The hand he curved into the small of her back began a slow, deliberate circle, teasing the upper flare of her ass, then retreating again. His erection rubbed her stomach, a promise of the night to come.
The last night.
Mara dropped her head onto his shoulder. He really was the perfect height. She pressed her face to his throat, breathing in the rich masculine scent of him. Engine oil, aftershave and the dark musk of the lion. Ambrosia.
“Michael…”
That hand continued to work in lazy circles over the base of her spine, until she felt like all her nerve endings spiraled out from that spot. “Hmm?”
“Why did we think it was a good idea to go out?” If they were home, at least one of them would be naked right now. Just the thought of repeating this dance with bare flesh against her skin had another spike of pure, hot need shooting down to her core. She bit back a moan.
“Aren’t you having a good time?” His voice rumbled through his chest. Her nipples peaked instantly, pressing against the fabric of her dress.
If she were having any better a time, she’d orgasm right there on the dance floor.
He didn’t wait for an answer. Which was good, because coherency wasn’t a strong suit at the moment. How was it this man could take her perfect control and melt it with one searing touch? And why did she love it so much when he did?
“I asked you for a date,” he said for her ears alone, “because I thought it would be novel if we had an excuse to keep our clothes on for a change.” The hand at the back was killing her. Who knew there was a direct line from the small of her back to her G-spot? “I knock on your door and two minutes later I have you naked beneath me.” Or on top of him. Or in front of him. Or… The boy was nothing if not adventurous. “I thought, for a change of pace, we could try a little delayed gratification.”
Delayed gratification was great, in theory, but Mara’d had about as much slow simmer as she could stand tonight. She lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his eyes. “Exactly how long are we delaying this gratification?”
She leaned into him, canting her pelvis to rub against the base of his cock. Michael hissed, his eyelids flickering. His hands tightened on her. She reveled in his response…until she felt the telltale scratch of claws through her clothes.
Oh shit.
She’d forgotten, for a minute, why Michael so rarely left pride land, why she’d never suggested they go out before, why she’d chosen someplace she’d hoped would be abandoned at one a.m. on a Wednesday night.
Mara jerked back, even as a forbidden thrill curled in her stomach at the thought that she’d unleashed that wildness in him.
Michael Minor was never fully in control of his lion. Whenever his emotions ran high, it sprang out, forcing a shift, no matter how hard he fought against it. From the shallowness of his breath and the bite of claws against her back, he was fighting it right now.
Mara’s eyes flicked nervously to the drunks scattered around the bar. Had they seen anything? Were they sober enough to remember if they had? How close was Michael to losing it completely? A few claws might go unnoticed, but a fully grown lion suddenly appearing in the middle of a Texas cantina was bound to be memorable.
And just how depraved was she that the idea of being discovered was turning her on in a big way?
“Michael?”
“Let’s go.” His voice didn’t sound entirely human, like the lion was caught in his throat, trying to get out.
Mara’s breath left her in a rush. She grabbed his hand, tucking it against her skirt to hide the wicked claws. As they passed the bar, Michael threw a bill down to cover her drink. Mara was grateful he, at least, had remembered. The last thing they needed right now was an angry bartender chasing them outside.
“Relax.” Michael squeezed her hand and tried to smile reassuringly, but where his human teeth should be, there was a mouthful of wicked feline points.
“Shit. Michael,” Mara whispered, pointing to her own mouth.
His smile vanished and he didn’t say another word, hustling her toward the door and out into the warm spring night.
Haloed by the light of the neon Budweiser signs, Michael looked like a fallen angel, beautiful and untamed. Mara’s breath caught in her throat. She knew the danger of exposure was real, but so was the excitement it sent rushing through her blood. Adrenaline mixed with lust and whiskey in her veins.
She was a planner by nature, contained and analytical. Mara didn’t do anything on impulse, but in that moment she wanted Michael in a way that had nothing to do with Mr. Forever checklists and viable fertility schedules.
He was on the edge of control and Mara wanted to tip him over into wildness, a headlong rush into risk and need. Just one last time.
Chapter Two
The need to shift pressed against the inside of his skin, a clawing animal compulsion that pushed into the base of his skull, making each rational thought a struggle. It took every ounce of his control to keep from bowing his spine and giving into the impulse to take his lion form.
Michael swore under his breath as he guided Mara across the parking lot toward the SUV.
He knew he had limitations. His lion was always too close to the surface, ready to break through his skin. He’d adjusted to the fact that he had to be extra cautious whenever he left ranch land. The other shifters could go into town whenever they pleased, but Michael was different. They had to be careful with him. He was unpredictable.
Which apparently meant he couldn’t even take his girlfriend out for drinks and dancing without ruining it by almost going feline in a room full of humans. Dammit.
“Michael? Are you okay to drive?”
At least she wasn’t using her teacher voice—smooth, a little stern, and unswervingly calm, as if he was a cub on the verge of a tantrum who needed to be talked down. There was a breathy quality to her words, but Michael still barely restrained the urge to snarl at her. He felt three-quarters feral.
“I’m fine,” he bit out. “Did you bring a car?”
She shook her head. “No. I took a taxi. Do you want me to dri—?”
“No. Come on.” He was being a Neanderthal, dragging her across the parking lot and grunting out monosyllabic commands, but he didn’t have the control for manners right now. Thank God she didn’t seem to mind.
He’d parked on the far edge of the lot, instinctively drawn to the cover of the shadows there. The other cars left in the lot all clustered under the single lamppost near the door.
Michael pulled Mara around to the passenger side so the bulk of the Cherokee blocked them from view. He dropped her hand and leaned against the rear passenger door, pressing his forehead to the warm metal. Silently, he reached for calm. It had to be in him somewhere.
“Michael?” A feather-light touch brushed across his tensed shoulders. “Is there anything I can do?”
He was on the edge of losing it, his lion riding him hard, but something in her voice, the low, suggestive throatiness, called him back from the brink. “I’m fine,” he repeated, starting to believe the words. “Just give me a sec.”
He could practically feel her restlessness pulsing off her in waves. She fidgeted at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her twisting her hands together, as if that was the only way she could keep herself from touching him.