She wasn’t surprised when his hand lifted and came down experimentally on her bottom. The sting sent warmth coursing through her. The smack wasn’t hard, and she knew he’d test her response. She was as shocked as he was at the flood of liquid heat bathing his fingers. Every inner muscle clamped down around his fingers. His hand rubbed and caressed over the heat.

“What does it feel like?” He whispered the words, his voice a sinful temptation. “You have to tell me everything.”

“Hot. The nerves spread straight to my clit. I can’t explain it exactly, but there’s so much heat, like a fire building that I can’t stop.”

“Do you like it?”

“As long as it’s not really painful. I wouldn’t like that.” But she loved the massage and the way his fingers moved in and out of her—the way he explored her body without reservation, with his hands and mouth. He was cat, and it showed in his oral need to lap at her skin, to tease with the edge of his teeth and massage tactilely.

“Then I’m sorry, baby, but I have to do this.” He withdrew his fingers, reached behind him to get the syringe. He pulled the cap with his teeth, put the syringe in his mouth and brought down his hand a little harder, hoping the sting would momentarily numb her skin. He plunged the needle in and pushed the plunger to dispense the antibiotic.

She hissed, a long, slow promise of retaliation. He wasn’t a male leopard for nothing. He recognized a female cat’s displeasure and he wasn’t about to let her up until he soothed her and made her forget such an indignity.

“I’m sorry, beloved, but you refused even the doctor.”

She turned her head to glare at him. Her eyes had gone cat, taking on the fiery glow of the night. In the moonlight she looked incredibly exotic, her pale skin soft and enticing, the perfect globes of her butt tempting and her red hair tumbling around her furious little face. His entire body tightened, his shaft painful and full.

“There was a reason for that, you dimwit. It’s called a needle phobia.”

“You told him you weren’t allergic when he asked you,” he pointed out. His hand began a circular massage to ease the ache and, if he was lucky, start a new one.

“A phobia isn’t an allergy,” she explained. “Now let me up.”

She was becoming receptive to his attentions again but her voice said she didn’t like it, she wanted to keep her “mad.” He stroked his tongue across the sore spot and slid his fingers deep inside her again.