Haze of Heat (9 page)

“Ah, Mom.” Porter slumped in his chair as if mortified, but the look he shot Rachel was full of sheepish amusement. “In my place once again.”

Rachel tipped her glass to him. “Just so.”

Porter’s smile widened. “You just keep surprising me. I think you need to re-evaluate an ‘interesting’ life.”

Rachel frowned. “That’s him, not me.”

“How the hell did I miss that?” Rome appeared disgruntled.

“Because he used his mother’s maiden name.” Rachel informed him, more than happy to focus on her father’s adventures than her own. Or lack thereof.

“Your dad was awesome. Why’d he retire when he was still a top name?” Santos wanted to know.

“Between the training and travel, and the occasional TV cameo, he got tired of leaving us. So he quit, took some classes, got a teaching degree and specialized in drama.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled. “After all, wrestling is a man’s soap opera.”

Gwen snickered. “So, want to see my card?”

“I would love to,” Rachel responded with a gentle smile. “But I don’t have my glasses with me.”

A sound almost like distant thunder came from across the table and Rachel turned her attention to Porter.

“You’re a shifter and you need glasses?” Gwen asked, obviously surprised.

“Uhm, yeah.” Rachel tore her eyes from the rising flames suddenly filling Porter’s to explain. “Genetics are strange. I got my mom’s hair, my dad’s eyesight, and my aunt’s, ah, special abilities.”

“What kind of glasses?” The thick question from Porter was barely understandable, the rough velvet quality rasping over her skin and making her nipples tighten against her bra.

So not the time or place to get turned on.

She coughed lightly. “Ah. Sort of squarish. Black frames. I only need them when I’m writing or reading close up, which is fine by me.” Rachel felt her lips curl at a memory. “I always think I look like the librarian I had in high school when I have them on.”

The bottle of beer in Porter’s hand shattered.

Chapter Nine

Rachel was nearly to the door of her suite when the seductive scent of amber enveloped her senses. Whirling around, she came face to face with Porter. A soft squeal of surprise eked out before she could stop it.

“You scared me,” she accused, putting a hand to her chest. Yes, she’d caught his scent, but she never heard him move. Had no idea he’d only been inches behind her. Either her hearing was going or the damn shifter was one uniquely quiet cat.

His eyes crinkled with merriment and she had to remind herself there was nothing sexy in the look. “Sorry.”

Her own eyes roamed over his bruised face. “You seem to say that quite a bit.”

“Only when it comes to you. For some reason you bring out the idiot in me.”

Refusing to be undone by his boyish smile and the flickering desire taking hold in her belly, she leaned against her door and folded her arms over her treacherous body. “How’s your hand?”

He lifted both up. “Which one?”

She shook her head at the sight of his scraped knuckles, the healing cuts on one palm, then frowned as his words took root. “I bring out the idiot in you? Are you saying I’m somehow responsible for your fight with Santos?”

Porter paused, his mouth pursing as if considering kissing her. Of course her gaze dropped to settle on his lips, her mind to fantasize how they would feel pressed to hers. Against her will, her nipples peaked under the soft cotton. She wanted those lips, his teeth, and his tongue on the pouting tips. She wanted to know if he remained a charming flirt when he had sex, or if he became as wildly passionate as his eyes promised.

His nostrils flared and sexual hunger ignited in his eyes. As if sensing the direction of her thoughts and concurring wholeheartedly, he crowded in, so that his body heat wrapped around her like a sensual blanket of temptation. He placed his hands on the door at her back, just above her shoulders. She could duck under his arm easily enough if she wanted to escape, but she found she couldn’t move.

“Not in a bad way.”

Her mouth dried up as he inched nearer. The dark blue Orchards T-shirt stretched taut over rock-hard muscles, as if daring her to touch and test that unyielding strength with her fingers. Her tongue. She hissed in a breath and fisted her hands. “How is there a good way to be the one who instigates a physical brawl?”

“I take it you haven’t been around that many male shifters.” His face was so close she could see his eyes weren’t monochromatic. Tiny flecks of gold glittered in those chocolate depths.

“Not really. Other than my grandpa, of course.” Her tongue came out to wet her lips and he zeroed in on the movement.

“Sometimes our other half gets the best of us.” Another subtle slid that brought him closer still, his forearms now resting on the door at her back.

Every breath she took was full of Porter; all she saw was Porter. She clenched her thighs as need dampened her panties. “And you become violent?”

“Sometimes our disagreements become physical. Part of that is simply being male. The other is the result of carrying a predatory creature that is hungry, wild, and territorial. But I’ve never touched a woman in anger and I would never, ever hurt you.” Something stirred deep inside, a type of visceral
knowing
that this man would never lash out at her, intent on physical harm.

Even her cat agreed, purring in rapture as his lips hovered at her ear, his words a moist caress that made her flesh tingle. “Shifters need an outlet for the power we hold. Physical release in any form helps maintain the mental hold on our beast.”

“Ph-physical release?” She was totally turned on. The wet, crazy, blind-drunk kind of turned on, and he hadn’t even touched her!

“Sex is, of course, the favored outlet.” Her body quaked when he ran the tip of his nose along the shell of her ear, his tone low, thick and rough, reminding her he was no tame tabby. Even as he continued to speak, her lids drifted shut from the bombarding sensations. “Lots and lots of wild. Sweaty. Debauching sex.”

The sound she made in her throat might have been a whimper. Her fists tightened until she was digging her nails in her palms so she wouldn’t explore the hard ab muscles pressing against her crossed arms. “I’m sure you get all the sex you want. Woman probably fall under your charming spell left and right.”

“Not you.” His lips closed over her lobe and she felt the slick slide of his tongue, the sharp edge of teeth.

“S-so I’m a challenge, then?” The shiver and shock at how sexually sensitive her ears were caused her to stutter.

“What you are is sexy, smart, and exquisitely feminine.” He breathed in deep. “You want me, and God knows I want you.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to hop into bed with you.”
Why not?
her girl parts screamed, which wasn’t helped by the way her feline was rubbing all over as if in heat. A dual attack that was getting harder and harder to fight, which she felt she needed to in order to maintain some measure of self-dignity and not become another notch on his belt. Or bed post.

“I don’t expect you to.”

Her eyes flew open. Well, that was—unexpected. “Then why did you follow me?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.” He trailed the bridge of his nose along her jaw. “And I was hoping to coax a goodbye kiss.”

Rachel knew he was leaving for a couple of days, taking Magnus back to his owner and retrieving Plato. She’d been mortified at how upset she’d felt upon hearing of the planned trip at dinner. An insane reaction, considering they’d only just met. She had absolutely no right to be privy to his every move.

Unfortunately, cool logic couldn’t freeze her heated emotions. “I don’t think so.”

A rough chuckle vibrated along the soft, vulnerable skin of her neck where he buried his face. “How’d I know?”

“Maybe you’re smarter than you look. Porter.” She wedged her hands onto his chest and pushed him back. “I may not be here when you come back. If they find the guy who’s been harassing me—”

“No.” He straightened to his full height, all hint of the charming rogue leached from his face. “You’ll wait for me.” His growl was proprietary and authoritative.

Her eyes dropped in a slow, incredulous blink. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll not leave until I return.”

“And you’ll not order me around. You are not my alpha, my father, or my mate.” She corrected, glaring up into eyes so dark they looked like midnight; brilliantly primal and unfathomable.

For some reason that made him go so preternaturally still he might as well have become a statue. A living, breathing statue that exuded raw power. Heat continued to pour from his body, and his heart hammered under her hands, which she only then realized remained on his chest. She dropped them as if scalded and shoved them behind her back.

He uttered something low in Spanish that eluded her. Probably for the best, since it hadn’t sounded good. Still. “Do I want to know what you just said?”

Chin hitting his chest, he shook his head. “Only that I really am an idiot.” Then he snorted in self-derision. When he looked back up, it was with the face of a friend. “As much as I want this asshole caught, I would very much like for you to remain here until I return.”

Something was different this time around. He wasn’t acting sheepish as he had yesterday on the road or charmingly unrepentant as when she’d caught him eyeing her breasts this morning. She searched his eyes, seeking the truth, but all that reflected back at her was amiable affection.

A funny feeling in the pit of her stomach made her cautious. “If the police need me to go home I’ll have no choice.”

A swift nod. “I understand.”

Her eyes narrowed. If all he wanted was to get in her pants and consider her another conquest, would he accept her argument so readily? Wouldn’t he push to get her in bed at the soonest opportunity? So it begged the question: just what kind of game was he playing?

Then again, who the hell was she kidding? If she were honest with herself, which sucked, she’d fall onto the nearest flat surface if he truly exerted any effort into seducing her. A foregone conclusion upon his return. Despite telling him repeatedly she wouldn’t sleep with him, she knew if she remained at the Orchards, they’d end up having sex. So? Did she stay or did she go?

“Otherwise I’ll stay here.” Four words and her fate was sealed. Anticipation thrummed through her veins.

His smile was brighter than the afternoon sun. “Good. I’ll be back late Friday morning.” He traced one finger over her parted lips before bringing the digit back to his mouth, tasting her. “Miss me.”

“Doubtful.” Just because she was eagerly awaiting what would happen in a few days’ time didn’t mean he needed to know. The man’s ego was big enough.

Male laughter rang out. “You are adorable, Rachel Laversse. Try to stay out of trouble until I get back.” He touched the tip of her nose with his finger before taking his leave.

Rachel watched him saunter off until he reached the stairs and disappeared from sight. She barely caught herself from sneaking to the edge of the wall to watch him descend.

“Pathetic,” she mumbled, letting herself into the homey suite. As she walked to the dresser, she lifted her hands to start the process of removing her earrings. First the right and, as she went to take out the left, she shivered, remembering the way Porter’s lips and teeth on the tender flesh had short-circuited her nerve-endings. Who knew ears could be erogenous zones?

With a small smile, she touched her left lobe, and froze. Lifting her eyes, she peered into the attached mirror.

Her left earring was gone.

Impossible. They were hooked, with long, clear plastic backers to keep them in place. A pain to be sure, but she liked them so much she didn’t want to chance losing them. There was no way they could just pop free.

Rachel took a step from the dresser and peered at her reflection. She wasn’t positive, but with the way her red lobe still tingled from Porter’s sensual caresses, she had to wonder.

And shiver anew. If he could remove those dainty dangles with just his lips and teeth, what could he do if he focused that kind of dexterity in other places?

Her legs lost all feeling and her butt hit the bed. “Oh.” She didn’t stand a chance against that kind of sexual expertise. She’d be a puddle of feminine goo in no time flat. Because when an alpha shifter wanted something, really wanted something, they would do whatever necessary to claim it. They would sneak, coax, manipulate, and even kill.

The whole killing part wasn’t something Rachel wanted to dwell on, and certainly didn’t pertain to Porter. However, it was part and parcel of the information Bethany bestowed after discovering Rachel had sought aid from the Greenleaf pack. Though relieved at the outcome, Bethany had warned Rachel to be cautious, because alphas were powerful, smart, and tricky, and Rachel was now a known and coveted commodity to Rand Hensen.

Falling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, her mind engaged on the only alpha shifter that intrigued her. Porter. He wasn’t like Rand. None of the Felix men were. She didn’t doubt any one of them could—and probably had—use manipulation, seduction, or tricks to get what they wanted. Yet she didn’t believe for one second they would deny help to someone who truly needed it unless it benefited them in some way.

As for Porter, Rachel wasn’t naive enough to think he wouldn’t use all that mouth-watering masculinity and sex appeal to coax her into bed. He had an arsenal of experience at his disposal, and wouldn’t be ashamed to use it. But it wouldn’t be just for his own gain or selfish desires. He’d make damn sure she enjoyed every single minute of his sensual attention.

Her lips slowly stretched in a carnal smile. He was an unforgettable and pleasurable adventure waiting to happen. She’d just have to remember, when the ride was over, to let go and move on. To not lose her head, or more importantly, her heart, to a fleeting moment of time.

Warm and erotic memories would last a lifetime.

She didn’t care to think, so would a broken heart.

Chapter Ten

Over the next couple of days, Rachel searched for her wayward earring every time she left her room. She even asked Katie and Melinda to keep an eye out for it, to no avail. Gwen had teased that the ghost of Cort had snatched the dangling bit of gold, but Rachel had another, and more provocative, theory.

Needless to say, the growing belief that Porter was responsible for the missing piece of jewelry kept her restless for two nights in a row. Dreams full of debauched, wild, sweaty sex that Porter had alluded to made her ache and want until her flesh felt on fire, her skin too tight to contain all the sexual need raging inside with merciless greed.

By Thursday evening, forty-eight hours since the last time she saw him, Rachel was starting to rethink her idea of an adventure. The way she was feeling right now was akin to torture, and she placed the blame squarely on Porter’s very fine head. And powerful shoulders. His muscled chest and slim hips. Those forearms roped with supple strength that flexed whenever he opened and closed his hands.

That tight ass.

Actually, just that
ass
.

If he hadn’t come on to her, planted those seeds of seduction, if he wasn’t so damn sexy, she wouldn’t be in the state she was in. Hot, wet, and so freaking needy she
hurt
.

Sinking under the cool waters of the indoor section of the B&B’s pool, Rachel counted to ten. This late at night she had the pool to herself, for which she was relieved. Dinner had almost been a chore. Not because of the additional guests, the food, or the easy flow of conversation, but because Rachel couldn’t settle, couldn’t find her happy place. Couldn’t think past how her own flesh felt too damn sensitive to every external stimuli, not matter how minute.

Lifting her head out of the pool, she cocked her head, listening as she treaded water. She thought she heard something. A whisper of footfalls?

The indoor/outdoor pool room was actually separated from the main house by a short, enclosed breezeway. A key card was needed on
two
doors to get into and out of the connected building. One of those recently installed security measures.

The pool house was dim, as she’d left the lights off. She might be farsighted, but her night vision was excellent. Added to that, the cloudless sky was free from city smog or phony lights, clearing the way for millions of twinkling stars to illuminate the room in a soft glow, thanks to the exterior wall of solid glass.

Even if she were human she would have left the lights off. To do otherwise would allow anyone outside to see her, alone, through that solid wall of glass, while she would be blind but to her own reflection.

She turned a slow circle in the water, scanning her surroundings, breathing through her nose, and not smelling much past the chlorine. Was she being watched or was it her imagination? Had her stalker found her once again, or was it simply an owl out hunting prey?

The ceiling fans, used rather than air conditioning to circulate air and keep the room from becoming stale, were idle. The partitions in the glass wall, the ones that could slide back to allow easy movement in and out of the building as well as an inlet for fresh air, were shut.

No one was in the room with her, which meant—

Peering out into the night, Rachel saw nothing stir. Heard no other sound.

Teeth clenched, she knew she had to make a decision. Either get out of the pool, grab her towel, and get back to her room, or duck under the glass partition and check out the exterior for herself.

And wasn’t it always the terrified blond bimbo who died in the horror movies? Then again, this terrified blond bimbo had some hidden strengths and wouldn’t be taken down without a fight.

She twisted in the water and stared at the exit. Or should she run? The fight-or-flight response was turning her brain into mush.

Dammit! This wasn’t getting her anywhere except a ticket on the fast train to paranoia, and that settled in her gut like a lead balloon.

What would her spunky heroine do?

Decision made, she dunked under the water once again, kicking toward the exterior half, keeping her eyes open and ignoring the mild burn from the pool chemicals. Once outside, she popped up like a torpedo and spun in a circle, water streaming from her hair and body in a cylinder arc to dampen the smattering of chaise lounges and poolside tables on the pebble-topped concrete edging.

No one.

“Well,” she muttered under the racing of her thundering heart, sinking back down to her neck. “Isn’t that annoying?”

Maybe taking off an intruder’s head would have quelled some of the adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream.

With a last suspicious frown, she turned back, only to have the scent of amber tickle her nose the same second a soft thud of booted feet reached her ears. She whipped around so fast her wet hair smacked into her cheek.

And there he was. Her pain in the ass. The one she was going to murder with her bare hands for turning her into a hormonal pile of hot, aching goo.

After she took what she needed from him first, of course.

She glared at Porter’s tall, shadowed frame, not able to tell if he was still carrying bruises from his altercation with his brother or not. “You scared the hell out of me,” she accused. “Again.”

His teeth flashed white in the dark, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes. No, those were dark, intense, primal, and very much lacking his usual flirting spark. “Now that, I certainly didn’t mean. I was only appreciating the lovely picture you made. A beautiful mermaid out to seduce the hapless sailor.”

“Lovely?” She was sick of the sugarcoated words, the inane charm. She wanted whatever this was between them to be different from the other women he’d bedded. Real. For however long it lasted. She was irritated, hot, and swollen with need, and cool and polite were no longer part of her repertoire. “What man uses the word lovely? Isn’t that too ‘girly’?”

One dark brow lifted at the irrational sneer, and a gleam of barely leashed fury and hunger flickered in his eyes. “Would you prefer I say you’re hot and sexy and all I want to do is strip you bare and fuck both our brains out?”

She flinched at the crude remark, but damn if she wasn’t turned on as well. “At least that’s honest.”

“You want honest?” Tight words from between snapping teeth. “I came back early because I couldn’t stay away from you. I want you and the need to sink my cock into your tight little pussy is making me bat-shit crazy.”

Holy moly! And she thought she couldn’t get any wetter. His unveiled words were having a powerfully erotic effect on her body.

And he wasn’t done. “I can see your nipples poking against your suit and all I can think about it getting my lips around them. Filling my mouth with your breast.”

Rachel could visualize that in her mind. Ached for it so much that her arms paused for a moment and she started to sink. “Better. Then again, you do talk big.” And she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut. What the hell was she thinking, provoking an alpha jaguar, for God’s sake? Did she have a secret death wish?

The low growl that emanated from deep within his chest made her shiver in sadistic anticipation. Her own eyes narrowed into slits as she watched his cat struggle to the surface.

Now, that was real.

“Talk big? I
talk
big?”

Her chin touched the top of the water, but she kept her gaze on him with a simple shift of her eyes. “Hmm. Goodnight, Porter.”

And she turned her back on him.

“
I don’t think so
.”

Knowing full well he was about to run her to ground, and relishing the chase, she swam lazily back toward the interior section of the pool house. Fabric fluttered, boots thunked onto concrete. Her mouth was fighting a naughty grin when she ducked under the partition, not rising again until she was at the shallow end, standing thigh-high in the water. As she rose to her feet, large, wet hands gripped her waist and spun her around.

In the blink of an eye she registered his fading bruises and the rough stubble on his chin. In the same instant she glimpsed a well-defined chest, muscled shoulders and six-pack abs. Then she was yanked flush against that solid chest. Burning excitement flooded her system, aided by the steely length of his erection under black boxers that pressed against her belly. Her lips parted to suck in air, but his were already on them, his tongue thrusting deep, one hand on the back of her head, holding her captive to his sensual domination.

His kiss was stripped of any sweetness or pretty flattery. It was raw and real and everything she wanted from him. She welcomed the hard, wet intrusion with a starving moan. Her hands widened to glide over the smooth, damp plane of his shoulders, gasping as she was jerked harder against his body, her back arching. She clutched fistfuls of wet, thick, hair to keep her balance, her knees becoming wobbly as his tongue plunged and ravaged.

Liquid heat pooled between her thighs, her nipples hard pebbles that rasped over his chest. She was damp and so very, very ready. Then one thick thigh wedged between her legs, pressing into her aching clit. She rode that solid muscle, wanting more. Wanting to spread her thighs wide and wrap them around his hips, holding on tight as he thrust that long, rigid length deep inside her again and again.

Dragging her mouth from his, she whispered his name. “Porter.”

He nipped her chin before settling his mouth hotly over the tender flesh of her neck. His teeth sank in, not enough to break the skin, but enough for Rachel to know just how dangerously close to the breaking point she’d pushed him.

The cat was warning her, telling her just exactly who was in charge, and it wasn’t Rachel.

“You taste so fucking good.” The open palm at her back slid down lower to sneak in under the boy-shorts style of her swimming suit. “I bet you taste even better here.” He demonstrated the location by slipping a finger further down until he’d reached her creamy sex.

“Porter!” This time his name was a ragged groan. “I need you.”

“No condom.” The low grating tone sent shivers down her spine, as did the edge of his teeth when they scraped along her neck. She bucked against his thigh at the shockingly erotic feel, wiggling to get that teasing finger where she needed it before she went insane.

“Don’t care.” And at that moment she truly didn’t. Lust was a greedy beast turning her vision into a haze of heat. Her body burned everywhere. “I’m clean and safe in my cycle.” Because with a shifter’s healing abilities and unnatural DNA, they weren’t susceptible to STDs. Cancer, diabetes, heart disease, yeah, those could take them down. But it was rare.

As for getting pregnant, her body couldn’t tolerate hormonal birth control. Female shifters rarely could. But she knew her body. Her monthlies were like clockwork and she had another week before hitting the danger zone.

His harsh laugh grazed her kiss-swollen lips. Not smug or amused, but agonized. “Wrong fucking timing, babe.”

With a snarl that would have shocked her had she been aware of it, she hopped up and wrapped both legs around his waist. The move pushed his finger past the throbbing and swollen entrance to lodge knuckle deep. “Yes.”

“Fuck.” Porter took her mouth again, his tongue thrusting in time with the thick plunge of his finger. A pause, and he added a second, filling her, stretching delicate tissue to accommodate the sensual invasion. His hips rocked into her, unyielding masculine hardness against feminine softness. His erection created an unrelenting friction over her clit that had her writhing in his arms, driving down over his body, meeting thrust for thrust.

The hunger inside her was blazing out of control. His fingers plunged, stretching, stroking her intimately, filling her, rubbing all the right spots so that she clamped greedily around him as the tension inside her grew heavier, hotter.

Her breath was coming faster now, a rough hitch of sound as his lips left hers and descended to her breast. Through the damp material of her tank-style swim top, the heat of his mouth enveloped her, his tongue flicking the pouting nipple with rough finesse, as if he too were a little crazed.

“Yes. Ohhh.” She trembled, urging him on with a gasp of his name. She wanted everything he could give her. Every little thing so that she would have no wonders or regrets.

Her body shaking now, she arched into him, pressing impossibly closer, harder, to all that delicious friction that was taking her ever closer to the abyss. Her legs tightened, her muscles tensed, and the sharp edge of his teeth grazed her nipple.

From the slight pain, the pleasure ripped through her and she came, holding on for dear life as she rode the waves of her orgasm, her cry cut off and swallowed by his mouth. The rapid pumping of his hips stretched her climax until she couldn’t stand the requisite sensations any longer. It was too much.

He stiffened against her, a rough growl caught in the back of his throat, his body now shuddering in her limp embrace. Then suddenly she was falling.

Still riding high from the mind-blowing orgasm, she wasn’t prepared to be dropped like a hot potato, or to sink to her butt in the cool depths of the pool. She came up sputtering, wiping her eyes clear of water. Spinning, she looked for Porter, wandering what the hell happened, but he was gone.

She barely had time to process the empty room when the lights went on. Flipping around as fast as the resistant water would allow, she blinked rapidly in the bright lights, staring in a stupor at the two older women who peered back. The widowed sisters, guests as of yesterday, were both dressed in long robes, carried towels, and wore identical looks of surprise.

“Oh, my,” Connie Worten finally said. “Sorry. We didn’t realize anyone was in here.” She looked about the room with curiosity. Her long mane of pure gray hair swung in a low ponytail.

“You’re not here alone?” This from Kay Miles, who narrowed her brown eyes in suspicion. In contrast to her sister, her hair was short, permed, and dyed an orange-red that defied anything natural. “The lights were off.”

Rachel could have very cheerfully drowned herself. It was apparent the two older women thought Rachel had come down here for a midnight rendezvous. While that hadn’t been her intention, it had most definitely been the outcome.