She had more boots in her closet than she could possibly wear in a week. She never asked for them. She was careful, even, not to look at anything too long in any of the cool stores she’d found on the Internet, but the boots kept coming and she loved every pair. She didn’t wear them often, but Eli always assured her, when the danger to her was past, he would take her out often and she could wear her beloved boots.

“Kitten, where the hell are you?” Eli sounded irritated and bossy. Just like him.

She didn’t shout her answer back to him because she knew from experience he detested that. When he called her, he wanted her. Right there. In front of him. And when she came into the room he wanted her kissing him.

Catarina moved quickly through the hall down to the kitchen where Eli paced with a scowl on his face. The moment she entered, he whirled around and stalked toward her, looking aggressive, a leopard on the prowl. Her heart stuttered, just as it always did when she first caught a glimpse of him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his body cut with heavy, defined muscles. His face was that of a man, no boyish features at all. Right now his jaw was set tight and his eyes were very focused, predatory. She went straight to him, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen, going up on her toes to press her mouth gently to his frown.

He always responded the same way. The moment her lips touched his, his mouth took over, his tongue demanding entrance. He slipped his hand under her shirt to cup one breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple as her mouth met his. She wasn’t certain why he always touched her so intimately when she kissed him, but she liked it, almost as if it was his personal brand of ownership.

She had a brand of her own. When she stepped back, she allowed her hand to run down his chest, feel the tight, cut muscles of his abdomen and then brush lightly over his heavy, thick cock. He was nearly always semi- or completely erect after kissing her. Sometimes she wondered if he was always in a permanent state of arousal.

“Where the hell did you go when you left my bed this morning without waking me? And why?”

This time, his hand didn’t drop away from her breast when she stepped back. His thumb and finger caught her nipple and tugged hard. Rolled deliberately. Fire shot straight to her center. Heat burned. Her gaze jumped to his face.

“I just went out to the porch and sat for a while, Eli,” she said, puzzled.

“And nowhere else?”

It was a demand. He didn’t let go of her breast, but he cupped the soft weight and his thumb gentled, stroking there deliberately.