Dez squeaked and tried to bolt past him. He caught her around the waist, pushing her back. “What are you doing?”
“Running for my life. Much more of this and I’ll be walking like I’ve been in the rodeo.”
“You complaining?”
Dez frowned, deep in thought.
“Fine.” He started to walk away, but Dez’s hand on his rapidly growing cock stopped him in his tracks. “I didn’t say leave.”
“You didn’t say stay either.”
She pulled him toward her, using his cock as a handle. She kissed his chest, nipped the flesh.
“Stay, Mace. Stay with me.”
Wow. This certainly couldn’t be Dez MacDermot. The bitter ex-wife of a lawyer who told everyone in his office she was a cold fish with a dry pussy. Dez now realized the man was an asshole, because she was anything but cold.
She looked up and was startled by Mace’s expression. Intense and desperate were the words that came to mind. Funny, Mace never seemed like that before.
He stared down at her without saying anything. Simply stared. Then his hand came up and cupped her cheek.
She cleared her throat. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never had anyone look at me like that before. I can’t tell if you’re falling for me or if you’re going to kill me using my own kitchen knife.”
He laughed, which eased the moment for her. “I have claws. Don’t need the kitchen knife.”
“Well, that’s good to know. Now I can sleep peacefully.”
He pulled her naked body flush against his. Just her skin against his had his cock rearing right back to life. “Exactly which one is scarier?”
“You falling for me.”
Mace shook his head. “I’m not falling for you, Dez.”
“Oh.” Damn. “Good.”
“I’ve already fallen. Head first.”
Oh shit. “Um…”
He smiled. “Um?”
His hand lazily traced patterns across her chest, around her nipples, and under her breasts. She started to squirm from the pleasure of it.
“Mace, maybe we’re movin’ a little too—”
He cut her off. “Actually, I fell for you a long time ago, Dez. The day you dropped your books at my lab station and sweetly asked ‘Youse mind if I sit here?’” Dez smirked at Mace’s accurate portrayal of the Bronx accent she’d so desperately tried to curb. “And it’s not my problem if that freaks you out.”
“Do you even care if it freaks me out?”
“No.”
Christ, could the man be more like a cat?
Mace pushed her hair off her neck and licked her wound. “That still hurt?”
“Mmmhm…what?”
“You’re not paying attention, Dez.”
“Mmmhm…what?”
He grabbed her ass, pulling a squeak out of her. “Pay attention, baby.”
“What is it with you and ordering me around anyway?”
Mace leaned in, his nose right against her neck. He breathed in deep and sighed. “I love how it makes you smell.”
Oh, that’s a damn good answer. She could get used to these shifters. She understood their logic better than she understood any human’s she’d ever met.
Dez pushed at Mace’s shoulders. “I don’t think that’s good enough, cat.” He watched her, concern on his handsome face. He didn’t want to hurt her. Man, was she falling for this guy or what? That couldn’t be a good thing.
She stood up on her toes to get closer to his face. “I don’t take orders from any man.” She looked him up and down. “Especially you.” She quirked an eyebrow, and Mace’s concern turned to amusement. Well, amusement and lust.
He pushed her back against the wall. “You’ll do what I tell you to.” He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. “And you’ll enjoy it.”
Could a woman spontaneously come? Dez felt perilously close.
So that banging at her front door, not a welcome intrusion. Especially when it set her dogs off to full-on warning barks, and some rather scary fangs burst from Mace’s gums along with a growl that quickly became a roar erupting from his throat.
She heard Bukowski’s voice as Mace released her and protectively wrapped his arms around her body. “Dez, if you can hear me, open this fuckin’ door!”
“Who the hell is that?” Mace snapped. He really needed to find a way to control those fangs of his.
“My partner.” She pushed past Mace, grabbing the green and white blanket off the floor. “Stay here. I’ll get rid of him.” She glanced at him over her shoulder as she wrapped the blanket around her body. “And feel free to stay hard.”
She moved toward the door, eager to get back to Mace with his enormous dick and killer voice. Dez had no idea what Bukowski wanted, but it better be good.
As she neared the door, she heard Bukowski again. “Answer me or I’m breaking it down!”
Dez’s body froze, but not her mouth. “Don’t you dare!”
Her dogs stopped barking, running to stand protectively on either side of her. Fighting to control her anger, Dez snatched her front door open and came face to face with Bukowski.
Mace pulled his jeans over his painfully hard cock and thought about all the ways he could eviscerate Dez’s “partner.” He had no idea he could detest a man he barely knew, but the loud-mouthed bastard had interrupted their “playtime.” Unacceptable.
When he heard Dez’s “Don’t you dare,” he was all ready to go out there and kick some NYPD ass. But the smell of Irish Spring soap stopped him. He scented the air. They were moving through the backyard. Actually, they were right at the back door. He scented two…no. Three. Although only one of them used that particular soap.
Dez had guns hidden all over her house. He could smell the gun oil. The one in the cabinet under her sink was the easiest to get to. He crouched, his hands wrapped around the grip, when they came through the back door. Almost silently. If he’d been human, he wouldn’t know they were there until they were on top of him.
Still crouched, Mace released the safety, spun, and landed flat on his belly. The barrel of his weapon pressed against a throat.
Hard to enjoy the moment, though, with a .45 slammed against his head.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I kept trying to call you and never got an answer. I finally called your neighbors about an hour ago. The old couple next door. They said they thought they heard screaming last night.”
Maybe Sister Mary Joseph had been right. Dirty little girls like you, Desiree, get caught and dragged out in front of the town and stoned.
“Get in here.” She grabbed her partner by his arm and dragged him into her house, slamming the door behind her.
“Did that scumbag do this to you?” He motioned to the wound on her throat. It probably looked much worse than it felt.
“No. Of course not.”
“Don’t bullshit me, MacDermot.”
Exasperated, she snapped without thinking, “Do you think I’d let some guy do this to me and then fuck him?”
“Oh my God! You fucked Llewellyn?”
“I am not having this conversation with you!”
Dez, busy wondering how much time she’d actually do for killing her partner, barely noticed when her dogs suddenly spun around and charged back into the kitchen. She doubted they suddenly regenerated the balls she removed years ago and charge Mace. Someone else was in that kitchen. And one look at her partner’s face confirmed it.
Bukowski tried to grab her arm, but Dez yanked herself away from him, taking his sidearm with her. She headed to the kitchen but stopped dead in the doorway.
She lowered the gun to her side and took a deep breath to calm her exploding nerves. One false move here and she could destroy everything she held dear.