Shifters were tactile creatures. Touch was traded casually. Michael could see it was driving Mara crazy not to touch him, to soothe him the only way she knew how. Without lifting his head, he snaked out one arm and wrapped it around her, crushing her against his side.
Her arms came around him instantly, her body curving to align with his. He felt her ribs expand beneath his arm as she took a deep, relieved breath and let it out slowly, burrowing closer.
She was one of the most dominant females in the pride, but asking for the reassurance of touch wasn’t a sign of weakness among their kind. She rubbed her face back and forth on his shoulder and he wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to soothe.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his shirt. “I shouldn’t have teased you. I forgot—”
A flash of irrational anger had the lion surging to the surface again. “Don’t,” Michael growled. “You didn’t do anything.”
He wouldn’t let her apologize for something that was a failing in him. A woman should be able to flirt with her lover in public without worrying he was going to turn into an animal and expose all of their secrets to public scrutiny. If he let her apologize to him for his weakness, that came dangerously close to accepting her pity. The proud cat that was so much a part of him rebelled at the thought.
He ran a hand down the curve of her spine, the soft fabric of her dress catching on his calloused palm. “You look amazing tonight. I wanted to touch you the second I walked in the door.” He buried his face in the loose, dark-gold mass of her hair. He breathed in her scent, the familiarity of his pride overlaid with the unique sweet tang of jasmine. He whispered the next words, more for himself than her. “I wanted you to wear my scent, so everyone would know you were mine.”
Mara made him want to mark her on the most primitive level. Something about her cool, analytical reserve had always fascinated him. It seemed so foreign to shifters who often reacted quickly, instinctively. She stood apart.
Her low, controlled voice. The efficiency of her movements, each gesture deliberate, each shift perfectly contained. He’d been nothing more than a hormonal teenager when she completed her master’s work and returned to the pride to take up the teacher position, but she’d called to him on an animalistic level even then.
He hadn’t been stupid enough to make a pass back then. Cool, elegant Miss Mara was a million miles out of the league of a horny kid like him. It was almost a decade later, after he’d finally come to terms with the fact that he was never going to grow into his control the way all the other cubs did, that he finally made a play for the prim schoolteacher…and discovered she was just as wild beneath that restrained primness as he’d always fantasized.
Their relationship had started out as all sex and only sex, but Michael knew she wanted more than that. Mara wanted cubs. She wanted a family. And he wanted her. What had started off as a fling, pure chemistry, had subtly shifted until it was something more.
He loved kids, but he’d never really thought about being a father. Up until Landon took over the pride a year ago, a shifter who hadn’t developed control by his twenty-fifth birthday would have been sterilized to prevent the spread of an unstable gene. A family hadn’t really been an option. But now…
He knew Mara wanted kids like an ache in her gut. He saw the hunger on her face when she watched the little ones play. At first, he’d just wanted to do whatever he could to ease that ache, but lately he’d begun to entertain his own fantasies about tawny miniature Maras tripping around his feet.
His heart tightened. He’d never been in love before. For someone who felt every emotion as keenly as Michael did, to have skipped one felt significant. Like he’d been waiting for her.
He’d wanted tonight to be perfect. This date was his chance to prove he deserved her, to show they were more than just hot sex. He knew she didn’t think he was steady enough to be her mate, but he’d hoped to prove her wrong tonight.
Instead, all he’d proven was that he hadn’t changed at all.
His sister, Ava, would remind him it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it. The pride doctor said Michael was missing a neural inhibitor that drew the line between animal and man.
The science was small comfort. He would never be worthy of the woman curled against his side. How long could he expect her to stay with someone who could never give her the stability she craved? One more month? Two? Then who would she run to?
Michael forced the thought of the man who would take his place out of his head. Jealousy was savage—more likely than any other emotion to bring on a shift. He needed to get her back to the ranch, back onto pride lands, where a loss of control wouldn’t expose them all.
He started to set her away from him, preparing to load her into the front seat, but her scent curled around him. Michael froze in place, his hands tight on her. He barely managed to keep his claws from snapping out.
Intermingled with the sweet twist of jasmine was the sinuous spice of lust. He could taste her desire on the air. While he’d been contemplating his sabotage of their relationship, Mara had apparently been thinking more much luscious thoughts. Naughty girl.
“Michael?” She spoke softly, a whisper on the warm spring breeze, but he felt that sigh of sound like a fist around his cock.
She slipped between him and the SUV, rubbing her body against his front every inch of the way.
Over the last few months, they’d learned one another’s wants and needs. At first, they’d both assumed they would eventually grow tired of each other, but familiarity had only intensified each experience. They’d learned to play to their personal vices. He knew exactly how to touch her to get her wet in a heartbeat. And she knew he went hard at just the idea of pinning her to things—walls, doors, slippery shower tiles. He couldn’t seem to get enough of crowding her against firm surfaces until she had no choice but to yield her softness to him.
Michael leaned into her, looming over her and pressing her back against the door until he heard the telltale catch in her breath. She loved this too. Mara may be dominant, but she almost never wanted to be on top. She wanted the man who would push her until she gave in, trusting her pleasure to his strength. She wanted him.
Now if only he could convince her their compatibility didn’t end at the bedroom door.
Heavy-lidded eyes beckoned him. “Your wildness makes me feel wild,” she purred.
Michael hesitated. Mara was never reckless. She reasoned things out and made the good decision, every time. So there was absolutely no explanation for her current behavior.
He had calmed. He was ready to take her home. All she had to do was hop in the car and drive back to the safety of the ranch. So why was she inciting him?
She urged him forward and he followed her lead. He bore her back against the metal wall of the SUV until the vehicle rocked slightly. She seemed to bask in the warmth of his body, drawing him tighter against her, if that was even possible. A small, sinful curve of a smile flashed out around her mouth.
Was she thinking what he was thinking? If he took her here, against the Cherokee, would they tip it? He knew he shouldn’t want to try, but was captivated by the image teasing his thoughts. When she bit her lip, he wanted to bite it for her then suck that plump curve into his mouth.
“We should go.” His voice was as rough as the gravel beneath their feet, but he kept his hands gentle as they stroked down her sides, over the flare of her hips, pausing above the hem of her skirt.
They should go. He should back away. He could yank up that little skirt, wrap those long legs around his hips and fuck her senseless just as soon as they were back on pride land. A fucking parking lot, no matter how late it was, no matter how deep the shadows, was no place for this kind of game. He gripped her hips, fully intending to step away, but Mara—never, ever reckless Mara—forced his hand.