Catching the Cat Burglar (11 page)

He pushes up and caresses my full thigh, heating me again to the core. Reaching down, he tears my panties away, tossing them aside. His barely controlled lust for me incites me further. "I love your body," he growls. "Every inch of you. From your freckled shoulder to your sweet pussy. I've been dying to make love to you since I first helped you out of your car up on that mountain road."

I laugh, surprised. "Really? You had a very surprising way of seducing me, then."

He laughs darkly. "I wasn't trying to seduce you. Not then. That only happened over dinner."

I reach down and take his cock in my hand. Slowly work it without ever breaking eye contact. "I wanted you that night. I wanted you so badly."

Chase shifts closer to me, so that I can rub the head of his cock up and down my slit, sending shivers of pleasure and anticipation through my body. "What did you want me to do to you?"

"Ohh," I moan, closing my eyes so that I can focus on how delicious his cock head feels as it rubs over my clit. "I wanted you to bend me over the table. To drop my jeans and fuck me from behind, right there."

He growls, his body shivering as he restrains himself. My juices are flowing so heavily that I'm lubricating his cock without his even having pushed inside me. "I've been needing you ever since that night. Wanting to fuck you in every way possible."

I shift my hips closer so that his head parts my lips. "Did you want to fuck me in the back of the bakery?"

"Yes," he growls, hands tight on my thighs. "I could smell your arousal. Did you know it was me?"

"No," I whisper, and then groan as he slowly pushes forward, easing himself inside me. "Though, yes, maybe I did. On some level. I wanted you. Even though I knew it was so wrong. To be fucked by the man I was trying to arrest. There, oh - like that. Slow. You're so big."

Chase goes slower, sinking into me, stretching me with each inch that slides past my lips. "I wanted to fuck your beautiful mouth. I wanted to fuck you so hard it frightened me."

"Oh," I gasp, arching my back as he sinks to the hilt, completely inside of me, my legs wrapping around his hips. I feel breathless, like I'm floating in space, the whole world disappearing except for the sensation of his cock buried deep inside me. "Oh, Chase."

He growls and gyrates his hips, churning me within, rubbing himself against my undulations and ridges and sending swirling spirals of ecstasy through me. "You're so fucking tight around my cock," he rasps. "Your pussy is so fucking perfect."

"Fuck me," I gasp. "I can't take it anymore. Fuck me hard. Now."

My words shatter his control, and he slides back out only to piston deep and hard back into me. I cry out, and then again. And again. And again. Each penetration fans the fires of my need higher, till I'm sweating freely, lost in the power of his lovemaking, in his strength and size. Harder and faster, till my orgasm tears my thoughts apart, and I hear my scream rise up, a cry of pleasure and surrender that's matched by Chase's roar as he comes deep within me. I'm dimly aware of his whole body going rigid as he throws his head back, and streams of his cum fill my channel with his seed.

After an agonizing moment of sheer bliss that feels like an eternity while it lasts, Chase falls down onto the bed, still inside me, pulling me over so that I lie on his broad chest, wrapped in his arms, feeling his powerful heart thundering within his chest. Neither of us speaks. I listen as his heartbeat slows. We lie there for what feels like hours, our sweat cooling, but in truth it's probably more like minutes.

Finally I slide off him and to his side, propping my head on my hand and looking at his gorgeous body. I trail my other hand lazily over his muscles until he opens one eye and looks at me, that subtle smile pulling at his lips.

"You," he says, voice rich and deep, "are as amazing in bed as I knew you would be."

I take a deep breath and smile. "You weren't too bad yourself."

He mock-growls and sits up, kissing me hard on the lips before falling back down. "Not too bad," he mutters.

I grin. "All right. You were pretty decent. A lot of potential. With some work, you could get pretty good."

He closes his eyes, but his smile doesn't fade. "Well, if by 'some work' you mean constantly fucking you, then count me in."

My smile fades, and my fingers stop tracing the spirals over his chest. "How is that going to work out, though?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes again. "What?"

"Our being together?" I don't want to talk about this, but I can't help it. "With your being who you are, and me being, well, a cop."

He takes a deep breath and just watches my face for awhile. "I'll do whatever you want me to," he says at last. "That was my plan from the get-go."

I mull this over in my mind. "Nobody knows you're the thief except me."

Chase can tell I'm deliberating, and stays quiet.

"If you were to return everything you stole, and promise to never steal again, maybe... maybe we could just pretend that the thief has left Honeycomb Falls, never to return."

He cups my cheek with his palm. "We wouldn't be pretending," he says, and the rawness of his voice makes me feel faint with happiness. "That man is gone. I want to start fresh. With you. A new life. For the both of us."

"The both of us," I whisper, hardly believing the words. He grins, and it's the kind of grin I've always wanted to kiss off his lips. So, with a grin of my own, I lean forward and do just that.

Except. That's when my walkie-talkie crackles to life. It's the chief. "Kilmarten, do you copy? We're moving in on the suspect's apartment. We're calling in all volunteers and officers to assist. Over."

Chapter 12

My eyes go wide and I snatch up the walkie-talkie, Chase sitting up by my side. "Hi, Chief, this is Kilmarten." My heart is thudding violently. For a moment I don't know what to say. Then I remember that I'm not supposed to know how tonight's trap played out. "Did the suspect show up at the mayor's house? Over."

I can hear the chief sigh. "He did. And got away, somehow. But we had Blake, the werewolf from Honeycomb Hall, on the premises. He picked up the scent and tracked it back to an apartment on Oak Street. Bardwell's watching the front door, but this is a slippery character. We need all the assistance we can get before moving in."

I turn and meet Chase's eyes. There's a moment of silence, and then he bounds from the bed and snatches up his jeans. "We have to go."

"Go?" The world is spinning.

He yanks his jeans on, then snatches up his suitcase. "Escape. I can get us both out of here, but as soon as they come up they'll know my real identity." He pauses and meets my eyes again. "I can't stay in Honeycomb Falls."

I want to cry. I want to protest, but he's right. They'll know who he is, and Blake's testimony will stand in court where Groofy's wouldn't. If Chase stays, he'll go to jail.

He moves to the foot of the bed and places one knee on the mattress, reaching out to take my hand in both of his. "Come with me, Joanna. We'll settle down in the next town for good. I meant everything I said. I'm a new man. Start a new life with me. Come."

Now tears do enter my eyes. I love my home. I love my friends. I don't want to leave Honeycomb Falls. I don't want to become a fugitive. It will mean never becoming a police officer, or doing anything that requires a background check.

My walkie-talkie crackles. "Kilmarten? Are you there?"

I hold up the walkie-talkie, feeling as if I'm carved from wood and hollow through and through. "I'm here, Chief."

"Joanna." Chase goes to say something else, but then understanding dawns on his face and he releases my hand.

"I can't," I whisper. "No matter how much I care for you. I can't run. Break the law. Abandon everything I know and love. It wouldn't be
right
."

He nods and sighs. "I understand." His smile tears at my heart, that quirk at the corner of his lips. "And maybe that's why I fell for you so hard. I must have known on some level that you were always out of my reach."

"Kilmarten?"

I hold up the walkie-talkie forlornly. "I'll be there, Chief. You can count on me."

"Good. The address is 15 Oak Street. Hurry."

I drop the walkie-talkie into my lap and bury my face in my hands. Despair. My heart feels like steel hooks are tearing it apart. I hear Chase pad around to me and sit on the edge of the bed. He takes me in his arms. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, and fight the urge to cry. He pulls back and tilts my chin so that he can look deep into my eyes. I look deep into his. And what I see manifesting there frightens me.

It's an anger. Not directed at me, but blossoming, growing like a fire. His brow knits, and his mouth thins into a line. Only inches separate us, but the storm of emotion that boils within that space is beyond intense.

"Go," I whisper. "Don't get caught."

He's struggling with something. With himself. "No," he says at last. "There has to be a way."

I smile brokenly. "There isn't. You've been caught. There's no undoing what you did."

He freezes, as if struck by a thought, and then a lazy smile crosses his devastatingly handsome face. "Are you sure?"

Now it's my turn to frown. "Am I sure?"

He leaps to his feet and with that fluid grace I never tire of watching crosses to his suitcase. "They'll need evidence to convict me. What if there is none?"

Painful hope fights with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

He crouches and I see him pull out a short staff from his suitcase and thrust it into his black nylon rucksack. Then a large vial of honey. Then he snatches up the fake diamond from where it lies on the floor. "I'll return them. Wipe them of prints. How can they convict me of a crime, if no crime has been committed?"

I open my mouth to protest, but then stop. Would that work? They'd arrest him for sure, but not find any of the stolen goods. The only real evidence they have linking him to any of the crimes is a trail across town from the mayor's house to his apartment. They could maybe get him for trespassing, but with a little luck, that could be it.

Chase sees the dawning excitement in my eyes and throws the rucksack over his shoulder. He grins, and my heart flutters in the absurd way I thought could only happen to lovelorn women in romance novels. "Come on. We're getting out of here."

"But how?" I rise to my feet and quickly dress.

"The same way I came in."

My eyes go wide as I buckle my belt. "Across the rooftops?"

Chase nods, and then shifts right in front of me. He doesn't get nearly as massive as a werebear might, but still he grows, muscle and fur filling out his frame, so that in a matter of moments a gloriously beautiful werejaguar stands in the room with me, his fur the rich color of sunstruck amber, his black rosettes intricate and beguiling. Almost seven feet tall, with a powerful tail lashing the air in front of him, he's stunning, striking, and utterly awe-inspiring.

"Come," he says, and it's him. Chase's voice issues from that fanged mouth. "We need to leave." He extends a large, fur-covered hand to me, and with my heart in my throat I take it.

Then he moves so fast that things blur. He sweeps me up in his arms, throws open the window, crouches in the middle of the bedroom, then throws himself into a sprint that culminates in a leap just inches from the window. We surge out into the night air, and I hold onto him tight, burying my face in his broad chest as we fly out over the street. The leap is over in seconds, and we land on a balcony in complete silence, Chase again sinking into a crouch to take the impact.

I look down. Oak Street is dark and silent, but I know Bardwell is down there. Watching. Waiting. Did he see us? I can only hope not.

Before I can speak, Chase leaps straight up, catches hold of the roof with one hand, and vaults up onto the tiles. He runs across the sloping surface, reaches Ivy Street behind it, and in a series of hops and drops makes his way down to the pavement, setting me lightly on my feet like Superman lowering a rescued Lois Lane to the ground.

"I'll find you when I'm done," he says, his voice a low growl that stirs fires awake in my core once more. Then he turns and runs, leaping up to catch a tree branch, twirling like a gymnast around it to then fly up to another rooftop, and is gone.

I put my hand to my head and blink several times. I feel dizzy, enraptured, and torn between hope and terror. Will Chase's plan work? I have no idea, but for now I have to put on the best acting job of my life.

I straighten my hair as best I can, smooth my clothing, but I know I look like a hot mess. Several hours of lovemaking have left their mark. I can't just run up to Bardwell like this. Or, well, I guess I
could
, but I know he'd smirk at the sight of me. Make all kinds of assumptions. I hesitate, then take off at a run - the library is only a few blocks away. Sometimes I love how small Honeycomb Falls is.

Ten minutes later I emerge, face washed, hair combed and braided, looking as fresh and professional as I can manage. I stride back to Oak Street, and I'm almost there when a little form detaches from the shadows and comes running over in a uniquely shambling and awkward way.

"Groofy." I stop. "I don't have time to talk. I promise I'll buy you steak tomorrow."

Groofy stares up at me, his little eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I've been looking for you everywhere - wait." He sniffs sharply, and then his eyes narrow. "You smell of mating. And werejaguar." I feel the mother of all blushes descend upon me, and it takes all my self-control to not splutter. Before I can respond, Groofy grins. "Is that how the law says you should arrest criminals?"

"What? No!"

"Because if so," he continues mercilessly, sitting down and grinning, "I'd like to become a police officer."

"It's not what you think!"

He looks up at me with mock innocence. "Do you have to mate with everybody you arrest? That must get tiring."

"Groofy!" I plant both fists on my hips and glare at him.

His grin gets shamelessly wider. "What?"