Burning Up

Amber’s cell phone?” Ria had told him about the calls this morning.

“Disposable.” Lucas’s anger was clear. “But we got another one of the bastards. He made the bad decision to try to shake down a couple while Clay was running patrol.”

Emmett’s leopard smiled, its teeth razor sharp. “Is he dead?” Clay didn’t see the point in keeping vermin alive.

“Clay thought we might want to question him, so he only broke a few ribs. Man’s refusing to talk, but I’ve had Clay prowling around him in leopard form—he’ll break when those teeth get too close.”

“What’s your gut say—small fry or big gun?”

“Very small fry. He’s not likely to know anything important.” A sigh of frustration. “Keep on the girl. They’ll do anything to get to her, because the longer she remains alive, the more traction Vincent loses.”

Emmett traced Ria’s form with his gaze as she went through her routine. The curve of her butt was the perfect shape to fit into his hands. “I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

FOUR

Having done two reps of the routine Emmett had shown her, Ria turned to see him walking back to her.

The savage edge in his eyes raised every hair on her body.

The man looked hungry. No one had ever looked at Ria like that. It was almost terrifying. But she stood in place, waiting, wondering.

“Ready for the next step?” His voice was deep, holding the beginnings of what sounded like a growl . . . a leopard barely contained.

She swallowed. “Sure.”

He padded to a spot opposite her, still dressed in the jeans and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. It was obvious why he hadn’t bothered to change—he hadn’t so much as broken a sweat with what they’d done so far, while her muscles were starting to protest. Now, he crooked a finger. “Come on, mink, use what I just taught you.”

She was so startled by what he’d called her that she completely lost her focus. He was in her face an instant later. “What the hell was that?” he growled. “If you blank out in a fight, you’re dead.”

“You called me a mink!” She refused to back off.

“Did I?” Moving at inhuman speed, he closed a hand around her throat before she knew what was happening. “Let’s make sure you’re not a dead mink.”

Eyes narrowed, she reached up and tried to break his nose using the flat of her hand. He caught it using his free hand. Her knee was already aiming for his crotch, and when he blocked that, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth hard into his forearm.

“Fuck!” The hand around her neck remained in place, but he released her other hand. She immediately went for his eyes and his crotch again. Her knee brushed against something very hard, before he twisted away and swore. She kept going, kicking, trying to scratch, even attempting to break the pinkie of the hand he had around her throat.

He finally let go. “Truce.”

Her heart was in her throat, exhilaration in her bloodstream. She knew he’d been playing with her—with his strength and training, he could’ve had her on the ground in one second flat. “How did I do?”

He glanced at his forearm. “I didn’t teach you the biting.” It was a snarl.

Or maybe he hadn’t been playing the whole time. “I decided to add it on my own,” she said, though in truth, it had been an instinctive response to his arrogant provocation. Her eyes went to the marks she’d made. Deep and red and perfectly formed. Guilt invaded. “I didn’t mean to bite you that hard. But . . . I’m not sorry.”

“Oh?” He walked over, slow, so slow. This time, she backed up. It was one thing to play with a predator who was keeping his claws sheathed, quite another to know you were prey. He kept coming. She knew the door out of the basement was only about a foot away. Making a quick move, she went to dart left.

Too late.

He was there before her and somehow, she found herself pasted up against the closed door, very aware she was all alone with a big, dangerous leopard in human skin. Except instead of fear, it was a vivid excitement that beat in her blood as he placed his hands palms-down on either side of her head and bent until their breaths mingled. “Boo.”

She jumped, then wanted to slap herself for it. “Stop acting like the big bad cat.”

A blink, and when he raised his lashes, the eyes that looked back at her were in no way human. “Mmm, I smell a pretty little human in my territory.” A soft whisper against her lips, bright green-gold eyes daring her to respond.

Her breasts brushed his chest as he pressed closer, her breath coming in jagged pants. “You’re behaving very badly.” It was a husky reproach.

“You bit me.” He angled his head a little to the left, and though she couldn’t see those amazing eyes except for a glint through his lashes, she knew he was looking at her lips. “Say sorry.”

She didn’t know what made her do it. Parting her lips, she said, “No.”

His mouth was on hers before the syllable ended. She found herself being kissed as she’d never been kissed in her life. He took over her mouth, slicked his tongue in, and tasted her like she was the finest candy and he was starving. Against her, his body was a hot, hard, impregnable wall. Her hands were somehow under his T-shirt and on his back, touching skin that burned with a wild fever that made her moan in the back of her throat.

A sound akin to a growl rolled up from his chest and into her mouth. Before she could process it, his hands were at her waist and he was lifting her up against the door. Wrapping her legs around him, she gave herself up to the possessive demand of his kiss. It fed fire through her body, a hot, pulsing storm. Then one of those big hands stroked down her back to squeeze her bottom.

She gasped, breaking the kiss.

He followed, taking her mouth again before she could do more than suck in a breath. Oh, Lord. He was stroking her butt, cupping and petting even as he devoured her mouth. It was wild, raw, primal. The heat in her stomach was matched only by the dampness between her thighs. Part of her was scandalized at her response, but that part was drowned out by the wild thunder of her pulse as pleasure sizzled through her veins, pure liquid flame.

Emmett broke the kiss just as her head was starting to spin. An instant later, she felt those delicious male lips along her jaw, down her throat. And that hand on her bottom . . . she swallowed, tried to think, lost the thread when Emmett shifted his hold so that his fingers brushed the heat between her legs. She cried out. “Stop.”

A fluttering stroke that arced electricity right through her. “Please tell me you don’t mean that.” His stubble brushed her throat as he leaned in to nibble at her ear. “Come on, mink. Just a little more.”

God, the man was a devil. And he smelled so good. A faint hint of sweat, the luscious warmth of male body heat, and the unique scent that was Emmett. She found she was kissing his jaw, fascinated by the contrast between the stubble and his skin. “Random sex isn’t my style.”

“Who said anything about random?” Another teasing brush, another rush of exquisite pleasure. “I plan to have sex with you on a regular basis.”

The arrogance of the comment should have snapped her out of it. Instead, her mind bombarded her with images of naked limbs intertwined, a heavy male thigh pushing between her own. He’d be no gentle, easy lover. He’d demand and he’d take. He might even bite. “That’s assuming an awful lot,” she somehow found the willpower to say.

A press of his fingers this time, not a brush. She sucked in a breath, her eyes closing as she waited for it to pass. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he lifted her until she was positioned just right . . . and began to rub himself against her in slow, grinding circles. She almost screamed. And then his fingers were on her again and she did scream.

Emmett caught Ria’s scream with his mouth as he continued to tease her with his