She rolled then, expecting him to move away from her but he didn’t. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her body into his. She held her head back, glaring at him.

“If I have to choose between you and Rafe, I choose Rafe.” She ignored the fingers digging into her midriff. She ignored the warning in his glittering eyes. “At least he’s honest. I know what I’m getting. You’re all deception, and you don’t care about me any more than he does. Neither choice is ideal but better the devil you know than the one you don’t.”

His golden eyes moved over her face. Brooding. Moody. Scary. She found herself holding her breath.

“Lucky for me you don’t get a choice,” he said. “When your leopard emerges there’s only going to be me to help you.” There was satisfaction in his voice. “Now go to sleep. You’re trying to get under my skin and, Kitten, just a little FYI, you’re already there. Don’t push your luck.”

Something in his tone, in the set of his jaw and his molten eyes stopped her from taking another dig at him, although it was tempting. Instead, she turned away from him and closed her eyes, scooting all the way to the edge of the bed, willing him to leave. He didn’t. He just pulled her close into his body, spooning her. One leg slid over the top of hers, and his head leaned down to press into her hair.

She stiffened, hating the way her blood ran so hot. Hating that she was so aware of him. Hating the fact that she couldn’t fight him, too tired, too battle-scarred already.

“Just go to sleep, Kitten,” he said softly.

In that voice. The one she loved. If she cried again, she was going to hit him. She felt the brush of his mouth in her hair and somehow the tension drained out of her and she let herself drift off.

7

CATARINA woke with her body unbearably hot. Her breasts felt swollen and achy. There was a terrible burning between her legs. It was absolutely impossible to stay still. Her body writhed along the cool sheets. It was impossible to stop, even with the knowledge that she was pressed up against Eli Perez. His body had somehow become wrapped around hers, his knee intimately between her legs and his hand shaping her breast.

She tried to breathe away the fire, but the tension in her only coiled tighter. Eli was hot, his skin burning through hers. She realized that sometime in the night he had shed his boots and clothes. He wore only a thin pair of drawstring sweats and he was pressed tight against her buttocks. He felt . . . delicious.