Wild Cat Read online

  "Honey," she whispered softly. "What did I do wrong? You have to tell me, and I swear, I'll learn."

  He stared down into her face. That beautiful face. In a deeply perverted way, he even loved that apprehension because it said so much. It told him she cared enough to be anxious. To want to please him. That maybe, just maybe, she could love him enough to see past the killer in him and want to stay even if she learned the absolute worst about him. He hoped so. He hoped he sucked her in deep enough to accept his life. To stay with him in spite of what he could never get out of--because he couldn't. He knew that. Not alive.

  "You stay if they tell you I killed people?" His fist gripped her hair harder. Involuntarily.

  Her gaze didn't waver from his. "Elijah. You might not have said that to me, but you certainly implied it. I heard rumors. I'm here."

  "You going to stay no matter what I ask for in the bedroom? Even if it scares you?"

  She blinked. Drew in a breath. "I trust you, Elijah. I imagine that if I were really scared you would help me get past that. Having said that, I'm willing to try anything you want at least once. Then I trust you to hear me if I say it didn't work for me."

  His heart actually stuttered in his chest. In his life, other than Rachel, his sister, who he had to pretend he didn't care about, and Joaquin and Tomas, his bodyguards, he didn't have a single soul who stuck by him. Not one he could trust. Not a single other family member who didn't want something from him.

  "What do you want from me, Siena?" he demanded.

  "I want you to be happy, Elijah." Her voice was soft. Her face was soft. Her eyes, intensely green. "Honey, share with me what's going on. Let me in."

  She was so far in he was totally fucked, but she didn't see it. She didn't see what she meant to him. He didn't understand how that could be when he felt the earth shake under his feet and his lungs burning with the need for air every time he tried to take a breath around her.

  "Here's me sharing, Siena. You didn't deserve a fucked-up grandfather who put your life in jeopardy, or a father who followed in his footsteps and got your mother killed. You sure as hell shouldn't be anywhere near a man like me. If I were any kind of a man, I'd let you go, but it's not going to happen. Ever. You get pissed, we talk about it. We work it out."

  "Honey, we had this conversation. You're skirting around what's really bothering you. Earlier, you had that same look on your face right after I . . ." She trailed off. "The same one after I had you in my mouth tonight. If I'm doing something wrong, you have to tell me."

  Siena tried not to think about the words Elijah had said to her when he'd thrown her out of his house. He'd proved time and again that he hadn't meant them, but they still reverberated through her mind when she caught that particular look on his face. For the first time her gaze slid from his, and she looked down at her body. Her breasts exposed, her skirt around her hips, exposing her bare skin to him. She had to look slutty.

  Siena shifted in her chair, drawing her legs back so she could sit upright. The problem was, he didn't move back. Not an inch. Not one single centimeter. She put a hand to his belly, trying to shove him back.

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" he demanded. "Fucking get a clue, Siena, the way you touch me, the way you work me with your mouth. The way you give that to me undoes me every single fucking time." The admission burst out of him.

  Siena looked up at his gorgeous, masculine face, the hard features even harder than usual. The silver eyes burning brighter than normal. Intense. Focused. Close to leopard. He looked aggressive. Dominant. Standing over her like a conqueror.

  The truth hit her then. Her man, the supremely confident, arrogant, powerful Elijah Lospostos, head of the Lospostos crime family, feared by everyone, was insecure when it came to her. Siena Arnotto. A virgin who knew nothing about sex. Who brought him trouble--the kind of trouble that could get a man killed. He was the type of man who reacted with anger and intensity when he felt threatened. She was the threat to him. More precisely, the way he loved her.

  She loved that. She also detested it with every breath she took. She realized that one woman, his sister Rachel, had been his Achilles' heel all his life. His love for her had made him vulnerable. He'd been forced to do vile things, things that shaped him into the dangerous killer who stood in front of her, staring down at her with a kind of fury gathered in the centers of his eyes. Rachel had made him vulnerable. What would loving Siena do to him? And he loved her. He wanted her in his life. He needed her.

  The thought of just how much he wanted her took her breath away. She understood. In that moment, she realized she mattered more to him than she ever had to her grandfather in all the years of her life. To anyone. Elijah loved her. Loved her. She'd never had that. Not like he loved her, with that intense, focused, single-minded purpose. It was the reason he was so protective. So determined the life they were both caught in, through no fault of their own, would never touch her.

  "Fucking look at me when we're talking about this, Siena. I thought we put this crap to bed."

  "I am looking at you, Elijah," she said gently. A whisper. Her hand slipped over his abdomen, tracing the defined muscles there.

  "You aren't looking where I want you to look."

  "Then you shouldn't be distracting me," she accused.

  He caught her chin and yanked it up, forcing her to look into his eyes again. His gaze burned over her face. Fierce. Possessive. "I love when you go down on me, baby. I dream about it. The thought of it and the way you do it, the way I feel you loving me, giving me that gift, and enjoying giving it to me, distracts me a million times throughout the day. I get hard thinking about the way you love me. And you fucking love me, Siena. I feel it every time your mouth is on my cock."

  His tone was just as ferocious as his expression. As the heat in his eyes. Her heart fluttered. Her stomach went into a slow roll and damp heat bathed her sex. "I do love you, Elijah. It's fierce and hungry and with me every second. It's also about taking care of what's mine. You take care of me in your way and I have to do the same. For me. I want to care for you better than any other woman ever could. Is that what puts that look on your face? The one that says you love me and you hate me at the same time? Do you feel I've trapped you in some way?"

  His face softened. Instantly. "It would be impossible to hate you, mi amorcito. I'm so grateful for that baby I put inside you. It means you aren't going anywhere."

  She shook her head. "You aren't getting it, Elijah. I choose not to go anywhere. I made a mistake earlier, just in my unfortunate choice of words. I have no intentions of leaving you. Ever." She added a little pressure to his belly. "But seriously, honey. I'm hungry and the food is getting cold and I really need to clean up. I get lost so can you please point me in the direction of the nearest bathroom?"

  He studied her face for a long time before he stepped back, drawing her up with him, so that she stood on her feet, swaying a little while her long skirt dropped to her ankles. "I love this thing you're wearing, baby. Do me a favor and wear it for me just like this while we have dinner. I love seeing what's mine."

  "I feel just a little exposed."

  "You live dangerous, baby, you want it or you wouldn't be with me, you wouldn't have chosen me. You're my wild cat. Your man wants to sit across a table from you seeing the candlelight play over your skin, I know you're up to that. You were up to letting me take my dessert and giving you yours right here in the fucking kitchen."

  Her heart accelerated. She not only had done that, but she'd been the one to initiate it. Worse, she hadn't even considered if someone might walk in on them. "What if someone comes in?" But she knew she was going to give him whatever he wanted.

  "No one will come in. They know better. The bathroom is there," he gestured toward a door. "Right off the kitchen. You can clean up in there." His hand cupped the soft weight of her breast, his thumb sliding across her nipple giving her another rush and a little aftershock. "Do me this favor, right?"

  She moved around him
because he didn't move. He said things like that. Do me this favor, right? She had never considered that she might be the type of woman who would want to have crazy hot sex in the kitchen, or sit across from her man half naked just because he asked her, but she was. She loved his voice, velvet over steel, rough and yet so sexy, his voice took her there every time.

  Elijah watched her disappear into the bathroom. He stood a long while looking at the closed door, his heart beating too fast. She had become his world, his reason for existing, and that wasn't a good thing for a man in his position. There was protection in his reputation, but there was also a great deal of danger. Mostly, he didn't know how to be loved like that. He was rough. He'd grown up rough. He was violent. He'd known no other way of life. He could find his way around the criminal world blindfolded, but a relationship with Siena wasn't going to be easy.

  He had sex with women and sent them on their way. He didn't spend a lot of time trying to impress a woman--truthfully he'd never had to. He tended to look at a woman and she went to bed with him, and then it was over because he wanted it over. He was in new territory--he loved Siena to distraction, and he had no clue what to do with her.

  He had heated the food and lit the candles when she returned. The moment she entered the room, his gaze was on her. It would always be on her. He would know if she was close. Not only did every cell in his body react, but so did his leopard, the male leaping toward her female every time. The large cat was just as enamored with her little female as he was with the human.

  He took a deep breath, watching her walk to him. She looked ethereal and very feminine in that long skirt, the way it clung to the curve of her hips. The camisole was tight through her narrow rib cage and tucked-in waist, but she hadn't done up the laces, given him just what he'd asked for. Her breasts, so beautiful, full and creamy spilled from the top, the material framing them.

  He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, bringing up her knuckles to his mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful, Siena, sometimes I'm afraid to look at you."

  He was. He was afraid if he looked too long, if he believed too much, she'd be gone, and the monster inside him, crouched and waiting, would swallow him completely.

  She stepped in front of him before he could lead her to the table, blocking his way. He halted and found himself looking down into her piercing green eyes. Those eyes that always seemed to find him. The man. To see him. The man. Never the monster. She could keep the killer at bay so easily.

  Her hands slid up his chest, she went up on her toes and her hands locked around his waist. "Look at me, Elijah," she whispered.

  He was looking. There was nothing else in the world for him but this woman and the child she carried in her body. His woman. His child. His own family. Right there in his arms. He locked her in place, holding her close to him, sheltering her with his body.

  "I see you, baby," he whispered.

  "Do you? Do you see how much I need you?"

  His heart clenched. Hard. Stuttered. He shook his head without thinking, an involuntary response to her question. How could she need him? He was a Lospostos. That name alone left a bad taste in anyone's mouth. Unless they were looking for a favor or a thrill, good people gave him a wide berth. She was good people.

  "I do need you. Just to breathe, Elijah. I've been holding my breath for so long. I have nightmares all the time. I'm always afraid. Since I woke up in that hospital bed, with you there, even when I was embarrassed to look at you, I wasn't afraid. Not in the same way, not that deep-down fear that any moment my life is going to end. You give me that. I'm not afraid to bring our child into the world. That's from you. That's big, Elijah. Huge."

  He shook his head. She continued, never taking her gaze from his.

  "I've never had girlfriends. You bring me two women who were nice to me. Good people. They didn't want anything from me, just to be my friends. You gave me that. I'm so in love with you, Elijah, I sometimes can't even contain it all."

  His hand came up to find the silk of her hair as his mouth found hers. She tasted like heaven. Like she always did. She'd rinsed her mouth, maybe even brushed her teeth because she tasted like mint. She didn't realize how she could twist him up and wrap herself so deep inside him he didn't know where he started and she left off. When he lifted his head she was smiling at him. Giving him the world right there on her face.

  "You have to eat, baby," he said softly.

  "So true. I'm starved," she agreed, and released him, turning toward the table.

  He held her chair for her, making it formal. He'd lit the candles and brought the lights in the room down low. He was right about the candlelight. It loved her, dancing over her skin and hair, casting the most beautiful glow over her.

  He watched her face when she tasted the dish, one of his favorites. He'd been careful not to make it too hot. He liked his food spicy but she was a novice. He didn't want to start out burning her mouth.

  "It's wonderful," she said, "perfect. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

  "My grandmother." His voice went tight, and he forked a mouthful of food.

  He felt the impact of her gaze. He'd been young when she'd died. Right after his seventh birthday. He knew his grandfather had taken her from her home when she was fourteen and married her. He knew that because his grandfather liked to brag about it. She'd been a very quiet woman and she'd stayed in her kitchen. He'd sought refuge there many times.

  The spices, the smells in a kitchen were comforting to him all of his life. When he was particularly upset, he always headed to the kitchen to cook. He could work out his problems when he cooked. He hadn't thought about the influence his grandmother had on him. He'd spent too much time thinking about the lives his grandfather, uncles and father had destroyed--ultimately, the lives he'd helped to destroy. None of them were good people, but that didn't matter. He had lived in the underbelly of the world so long he had come to realize there were layers of scum. Layers of bad. His family had been one of the worst.

  "Honey, you're going far away from me," Siena said softly.

  His gaze jumped to her. She was beautiful. All his. "I'm never going to be far from you, baby," he replied honestly. "I was just remembering my grandmother. I thought I just had my sister, but I had her. She gave me this." He gestured at the food, at the kitchen.

  "Do you use her recipes? Because this is really delicious."

  He nodded. "I have them all. She kept them in a book. I like looking at her handwriting. Some of the recipes were her mother's."

  "I want to learn to make them for you. For our children."

  "I can teach you. I don't mind trading off cooking. Although, Siena, you want me to bring in a chef . . ."

  "No. We don't need that. I always wanted to learn to cook. I'm good at picking things up fast. I'll try a few recipes out of the book."

  "It's in Spanish," he pointed out. "But I'll get it translated for you."

  "Thanks," she said softly. "I have to get to the winery and see what's happening with that. I can't neglect that. Too many jobs are at stake. I grew up around the grapes and the winery. I went to school for it. I don't want to lose that business because of the rest of it."

  He didn't hesitate answering her, but inside his gut coiled into hard knots. "We'll take care of that, mi corazon." He didn't want her anywhere near her grandfather's estate, not until he'd ferreted out Paolo and buried him deep. The man was never going to lay a hand on Siena, and he was going to pay for what he'd already done to her. And he was going to pay hard.

  She flashed him a smile. "Just thought you should know. My leopard is pretty eager to see her mate. I thought maybe they could run this evening."

  He nodded. "Sounds good to me. Keeping my male mellow helps."

  Her green eyes jumped to his face. "Is it difficult?"

  "I've been controlling him all of my life, baby. I'm used to the way he snarls."

  She laughed softly. "I can't believe I'm sitting here talking calmly about our leopards. It's kind of ins
ane."

  "It's just a fact. Who we are."

  "Elijah, if we have a girl, she has to know. I don't want what happened to me to happen to her."

  He winced. Cursed himself for not realizing what was happening the first time he took her.

  "Elijah?"

  "You give me a girl and I'm putting you across my knee."

  "That didn't work out very well," she pointed out, her eyes laughing at him.

  His breath caught in his lungs. He loved that look on her face. He loved that he put it there. He leaned across the table toward her. "I just need a little practice."

  Her fork was halfway to her mouth and she stopped. He saw the passion rising in her eyes. Yeah, she liked his brand of sex, no matter what he gave her. She was with him every step of the way. The moment they were finished, he was picking her up in his arms, carrying her back to his bed, and he was going to take his time, loving every inch of her body.

  He saw the answering burn in her heated gaze. The hunger that matched his own. Yeah, she was made for him. His woman. His wild cat.

  17

  ELIJAH woke abruptly as he always did. Fully alert. Listening. His leopard reached out into the dark room and beyond, looking for trouble. Finding none, Elijah buried his face in the thick silk of Siena's hair. He'd woken her twice in the night and both times she'd given herself to him exactly how he asked. She never hesitated. Trusting him. Loving him.

  The way she loved him brought him to his knees. She kissed him every single time as if she were giving herself to him. When her hands and mouth were on him, she did so lovingly, wildly and possessively. He loved that about her. She had two more visits from Emma and Catarina and after each, she'd been more than wild in bed, almost as creative as he was, thanking him in her way for the friendships.

  She'd told him Emma was on bed rest for the next month before the baby was taken by C-section and she wanted to go to Jake and Emma's to visit. Today was a good day for that because he had shit to do. Really fucked-up shit. He didn't want her anywhere near him when he was doing it.

  He brushed kisses along her temple and trailed more to the corner of her mouth. His hand slid over her breasts, which he swore were already fuller, down to the soft pooch that was her belly. He loved that pooch. It was forming fast. His baby. His child. He wanted a son only because he was certain if he had a daughter she would make him as crazy as her mother already did.