Wild Cat (14 page)

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Authors: Christine Feehan

BOOK: Wild Cat
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She shook her head. “I can't handle that, Elijah.”

He tugged on the braid. “You think I don't know that, Siena? You think I don't know just how bad I fucked up? You think it doesn't eat at me night and day that I hurt you like that? I know you now. I know I have to protect you, and I swear, Siena, you give me that chance, you let me in, I'll take such good care of you, you'll never have to worry about anything again.”

She didn't want the sincerity in his voice to break through the shield she was so desperately trying to keep up between them. Still, she couldn't stop the fluttering in her stomach or the curious melting sensation in her region of her heart. She recognized that she was very vulnerable where Elijah was concerned. She'd spent her teenage years dreaming about him. He had figured prominently in every single fantasy. In college, when she was so lonely, she had daydreamed about him.

“Elijah, I know you and everyone else thinks I came from a wonderful home, the princess everyone doted on. But that just isn't the truth. I loved my grandfather, but he sent me away when I was very young. I spent most of my childhood in boarding schools. Yes. They were private schools and I got a great education, and I had the best clothes and shoes money could buy, but I didn't have a home.”

Elijah transferred his hold from her hair back to the nape of her neck, his fingers beginning a slow massage she was now very familiar with. He didn't interrupt her. He didn't remind her of their guests. He simply waited for her to continue.

“I didn't have friends at school. My grandfather made certain my bodyguards went into the classrooms with me. That didn't endear me to teachers, administrators, students or the bodyguards. I was different. I always was going to be different. I blamed his worries about me on the fact that my mother and father were murdered. Then I was kidnapped. I have to tell you, security was
much
worse after that.”

“I do remember that,” Elijah murmured. “Your grandfather went ballistic.”

She nodded. “It was a terrible time. He didn't keep me home, although I begged him to. He sent me right back to school, but with different bodyguards. Alonzo was one of them and he practically didn't leave my side. Still, there was another attempt. After that, he made it clear I wouldn't be going on dates or to the home of any friend. I was even more isolated.”

She sighed and made a move to inch away, to put some distance between them. The heat from his body had begun to seep into her, warming her. His masculine scent surrounded her until she felt as if she was breathing him in with every breath she drew. Instantly, his arms came up to surround her. He locked his hands over her waist.

“Stay put. I'm interested.”

“I can tell you just as easily from a distance.”

“Yes, but I want you right here. Close to me.” His hands dropped lower until his palm was over her womb, his fingers splayed wide. “I like sitting here on our bed, you between my legs, my arms around you and our baby in my hand. Talk to me.”

There it was. His bossy. It was natural to him. Before she could protest, he rubbed his face against the side of her neck,
his lips leaving behind tiny flames with each kiss he gave her. Tiny ones. Barely there. She felt them all the way to her toes. She felt her sex flutter and clench, a slow burn starting. She sighed heavily, but he didn't loosen his hold on her, so she gave in. Like she seemed to be doing a lot of with him.

“Somewhere my grandfather got the idea that he wanted me to marry either Paolo or Alonzo. They ran things for him, carried out his orders, knew the business inside and out, he said. I thought he was talking about the winery and our other legitimate businesses. We own several, mostly to do with wine. We own several vineyards as well. I wasn't happy about it and I figured when I got my degree, rather than come home and face disappointing him, I would continue my education.”

“You went clubbing.” It was an accusation, and it came out like one. “I saw you. You were dancing and every man in the place was watching you. You wore a dress that clung to your body.
Dios.
So beautiful. I wanted my hands where that material was. All over you. It was all I could do not to carry you off that night.”

“I didn't see you.” And she usually had radar where he was concerned.

“I was so damned hard looking at you I could barely walk, let alone dance,” he admitted. There was a definite edge to his voice. “I couldn't take all the men drooling over you, and I knew if I stayed, I'd end up hurting someone.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder again. His handsome features had settled into hard lines and flecks of dark burst through the mercury of his eyes. It was fascinating to watch his eyes changing color.

“What did you do?”

He cursed in his native language, a rapid staccato of Spanish. “I took a woman home and fucked her brains out. It didn't help. I took a shower and jerked off. That didn't help either.”

She blinked, shocked at his honesty. Reading his anger in
his darkening features. “Why are you upset with me, Elijah? I went dancing.”

“In that fucking dress, without me to protect you.”

“I had bodyguards.”

“I don't give a fuck whether you did or not. You wore that dress. You look the way you do, and every bastard in the place had his eyes on you. Hell, half of them probably went into the bathroom and jerked off. I knew you were my woman, and I don't share with others. Not any part of you.”

She didn't like a word he said. Conversely, she liked everything he said. That's what he did to her, confused her until she didn't know how to think or feel. She liked that he noticed her. She secretly liked that he was jealous, but the rest of it . . . Even that. She needed help. He was making her crazy. She decided the best course of action was to carry on with her story because she was making a point.

“I didn't date. Not ever. You know I hadn't been with anyone.”

“Which is one of the reasons you didn't find yourself over my knee.”

She started laughing. She couldn't help it, and the sound startled her.

“What's so funny about that?” he growled, his chin settling on her shoulder.

“That's such a
you
thing to say. If you're trying to convince me I'm safe with you, that's not the thing to say.”

“You are perfectly safe with me. That doesn't mean I won't protect what's mine. You don't go anywhere in dresses like that without me right next to you.”

She wasn't touching that. Not even a little bit. “The point I'm trying to make here, Elijah, is that I never had a home, and that hurt. My grandfather wasn't who I thought he was, and that hurt. The man he chose for me
really
wasn't the man I thought he was, and that hurt big-time. I've had enough of being alone. I've had enough of never feeling loved. I want
that. I don't want to be hurt. You could hurt me. You
did
hurt me. The way you hurt me was worse than all the rest of it.”

She knew what she was admitting. She'd had feelings for him long before she'd ever driven the wine over. She had known she was being ridiculous, but she'd still fallen in love with the mythical man—especially after they had ignited together. She thought he felt the same way—that what they had together was love burning so hot and bright they wouldn't ever be able to be apart. She'd been wrong.
Way
wrong. She knew she'd been naïve. It had been just sex. Raw. Hot. Over-the-top chemistry.

“Baby.” He whispered it softly. Gently. His voice moved over her like velvet. “I'm telling you, what happened between us was something beautiful. The gift you gave me was precious. I didn't treat it like that after. I was so far gone, a dead body on the floor, and the shock of what I thought bouncing around in my head, nothing registered. That's totally on me. You have no part of that. I should have taken care with you. If I hadn't been so fucking selfish, I would have taken that care and I would have realized what you'd given to me. Never again. I swear to you, Siena, never again.”

“You can't promise that, and I'm not strong enough to take what you're capable of dishing out.”

“I'm not saying we aren't going to fight. Couples fight. The more passion they feel for each other, the greater the likelihood of it happening, but I know what I have now, and I'm telling you, I'll take care with you. I can give you my promise, my word on that.”

Siena didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything, more confused than ever. She liked everything he said, but he wasn't asking. She wasn't so blinded by her fantasies of him that she hadn't caught that. He was a man in charge. He could be in control nice or he could take control rough. She liked that he wanted to take care with her, but she had no idea how to process everything that had happened to her, let alone
that he wanted to claim her permanently. He hadn't actually said that. He wanted the baby, that much he
had
said.

“Siena? Talk to me.”

“I don't know what to say. I don't know what you mean. Are you asking me to stay here with you until the baby's born?”

His hand reached around, caught her chin and pulled her head around and back until it was lying against his chest, turned toward him. His eyes moved over her face. There was a hard stamp of possession there. It was in every line and the hard set of his mouth. Possession burned in his eyes.

“You know what I'm saying. I don't want you until the baby's born. I'm talking us. Together. Raising our child. You in my bed. You're my woman. I'm your man. I'm talking, you don't wear that dress unless I'm with you.”

That dress had really made an impression. She was going to have to go back and revisit that dress.

“I see.” Because he'd made it so clear even an imbecile—like her right now—could see. “I don't know.”

“You don't know about what?”

“You scare me, Elijah. I've been scared all my life. I don't want to be scared anymore.”

“You feel safe with me, Siena,” he corrected.

She started to shake her head but he stopped her.

“You're sitting here on this bed with me. You came home with me. You protested, baby, but you didn't throw a fit. You didn't tell the cops you wanted protection. You came with me because I make you feel safe. That's the truth.”

She opened her mouth to deny it, but then closed it again. He had a point. The problem was, she did feel safe with him, it was her heart that didn't feel safe. There was a difference, but she wasn't about to tell him that, so again, she said nothing.

He nuzzled her neck again. “It's all right, baby. I'll give you time.” He tugged her braid. “Let's go. I want you to meet Emma.” He moved around her to slide off the bed and reach
for her. “It's important for you to feel like you have a few female friends out here. Emma and Catarina both live on neighboring ranches.”

“I can't go out there like this.”

He tugged her to her feet. “My shirt's long enough on you to be a dress.” His eyes darkened. “Longer than the dress you wore to the club.”

“I was wearing underwear at the club.”

His eyebrow shot up. “I didn't see any lines.”

“Oh. My. God.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You looked that close?”

“I've got news for you, baby. Every man in that damned club looked that close. You're lucky I didn't commit murder that night.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. She had to have a long skirt she could slip on. One that dropped to her ankles and flowed around her so no one could tell whether she wore underwear or not. She rummaged through her bag and came out with a ruffled skirt that dropped to the floor.

He hadn't moved and she turned, skirt in hand. “Are you going to watch me get dressed?”

His white teeth flashed, reminding her a little of a wolf's. “Yes.”

She bit back her protest. What was the use? Elijah did whatever he wanted, and clearly he wasn't going to leave her side. She liked that it was important to him that she meet Emma—that he wanted her to have a female friend. That was nice.

Siena pulled on the skirt without looking at him. She looked in her bag for a shirt that would go, but without wearing a bra, nothing really worked.

“You look fine in my shirt. Come on, baby, stop stalling.”

She glanced in the mirror over the dresser and reached up to touch the gauze covering the laceration on her face. The stitches had been removed before she left the hospital,
but she hated how red and raised the scar was so she kept it covered with gauze.

He took her hand and tugged until she was beneath his shoulder. “Seriously? You look beautiful.”

She could hear the impatience in his voice. Mister Nice Guy clearly had a time limit on his nice. She hid a smile as she walked down the wide hall with him. Jake and his wife, Emma, were in the great room. The room was enormous and very comfortable with overstuffed chairs and warm tones, but the moment Elijah stepped into the room, he commanded it. There was no denying his presence.

He took her straight across the hardwood floor to Emma. She was at least seven, maybe eight months pregnant. Jake sat on the arm of her chair, holding her hand.

“This is Siena Arnotto, Emma,” Elijah said. “Siena, Emma, Jake's wife.”

Siena sent the woman a tentative smile. She'd never really had a female friend, not one who was real. A few girls had wanted to know her because of her name. Others had thought her bodyguards were hot. None of them got to know her as a person, and she knew she'd developed a shell, keeping others out to prevent herself from getting hurt.

“Finally,” Emma said, her answering smile soft and beautiful. “I couldn't wait to meet the woman who has stolen Elijah's heart. Big, bad Elijah turned inside out by a woman. You have no idea how wonderful it is to meet you.”

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