Beauty Dates the Beast(22)

I put my hands on my hips, ready to give her hell.

Beau’s arms tightened around me and he pressed a kiss against my neck, declaring his choice and silencing any protest I might have made.

Arabella was furious at that small gesture. She flung the keys against the wall. It sounded like a gunshot had gone off, and a massive chunk of log fell from the wall, a hole punched from the impact. Good God, she was strong.

“I want my things back,” she shouted.

“I gave them away to Savannah,” he said. “Six months ago, when you ran off with another man.”

Arabella’s eyes narrowed and her gaze refocused on me. “You can have him, you stupid human bitch,” she said. “He isn’t worth my time.” A slow smile curved her mouth and she gave Beau a triumphant look. “I hope you’re satisfied with your choice. She won’t make you as happy as I could.” Then she turned and stomped off. I stood there, frozen by her hatred, until the door slammed shut, reverberating through the house.

“That’s funny. I don’t remember being happy in that relationship,” he said idly.

I tried to slide out of his arms, but he didn’t let me. “So what’s all that about ‘nasty little humans’?”

He kissed my neck, his lips moving against my skin as he responded. “The Alliance views humans as weak and diseased.”

And he was the leader of the Alliance. “Oh, really?”

“You have to admit that the weaker part is true.”

Weak? Diseased! I shoved his head away from me and pushed at his arms. “Let me go!”

It was like fighting with an iron cage. Beau wasn’t about to release me, and that got under my skin. “Let me explain,” he said, his voice patient.

I turned away. “I’m not interested—”

“You’re going to listen,” he said, and then I was off the ground. Damn, he lifted me like I was nothing. I looked at the gigantic hole in the wall that Arabella had created with her angry key throw and shivered. These shifters were strong.

He was right about humans being weaker, but it still made me furious.

Beau carried me across the room and deposited me on the couch. When I tried to get up he lay on top of me, grinning. His heavy weight was a peculiarly pleasant feeling.

“You ready to listen?” he asked.

“You’re smothering me.” My hands shoved against his chest.

His hair was still wet from the shower, and a warm drop slid onto my face. I could feel the heat of his hard, naked body pressed against mine, sending traitorous trickles of pleasure through me. “Bathsheba,” he began, leaning in. A rumbling began low in his throat.

Was he … purring? Why did I find that so charming?

He grinned at my silence. “Do you know that when you get angry, your little chin gets pointed?”

“I’m sure it’s one of those icky human things,” I began, but I lost all concentration when he swooped in and pressed a kiss on my chin. First one, and then another, making me all distracted. He pressed another kiss along my jawline, nibbling up to my ear.

And oh, that felt nice. His teeth played with my earlobe, gently, teasing the soft flesh in a way that I imagined he’d tease the rest of my body. Tickling, tasting, exploring. He bit at my earlobe and my breath exploded from my throat.

“Arabella and I have been through for six months. She left me for another man. I haven’t seen her since then, so I couldn’t get back the key.” He began to work his way down my throat again, kissing and nipping each inch of flesh, then licking at the sensitive spots. “I’d never pick her over you.”

I shoved at him again. “Great. You picked the cootie-riddled human over the batshit-crazy shifter. You’re a prince among men.”

He chuckled, and his tongue licked along my collarbone. “I think you’re delicious.”

“Not disease-riddled?”

“Not in the slightest,” he murmured against my neck, breath warm and ticklish against my skin.

I grew very aware of his body covering mine. Hard, hot, and still slightly damp from his shower. Very naked. His chest pressed against mine, heavy but not crushing. My breasts were pressed against his chest, and I fought the urge to rub myself against him like a cat.

I was angry, I reminded myself.

When he nipped at my collarbone, though, a soft sound of pleasure escaped my throat and all my anger melted.

“That’s it, sweet Bathsheba,” he whispered against my skin. “Let me taste you.”

“No,” I protested, but it came out so breathy and soft that I didn’t believe it myself.

“No?” He leaned in, his nose brushing against mine in a playful motion, his mouth so close I could taste his breath.

The desire to kiss him shot through me, and I closed the gap between us and sealed the kiss. His mouth immediately plundered mine in return, hot, demanding, delicious. His tongue swept into my mouth, met by my own, and the kiss grew so deep and hot that my brain started to lose focus. I heard a soft sound of pleasure and realized that it had come from me.

He responded with a growl that was sexy as hell, and I forgot about everything but the intense kiss.

His hand slid down my side as our lips parted and the kiss ended, but Beau didn’t stop. He began to nip down my jawline again, the stubble on his face rasping against my skin slightly. It hurt, but it was a fascinating kind of hurt, and I squirmed with pleasure when he lapped at my neck again.

His hand slid all the way down my sweats-covered thigh in a caress, and my leg followed the pleasing motion. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until my legs parted and Beau’s heavy body slid into the cradle it created. And then entirely new sensations blew my mind. Our bodies fit together like magic, and his hand coaxed my thigh up, and then I was wrapping my clothed legs around his naked waist.

It felt so good, and from the heavy purr in his throat, he liked it, too. I could feel the hot, heavy heat of his erection at the junction of my legs, and when he rocked against me, I gasped. The meaning there was obvious.

Beau stilled against me, and his gray eyes searched for mine. “Are you all right, Bathsheba?” He pressed small, light kisses to my mouth, as if trying to soothe me. His hips rocked against mine in another blatant move, and liquid fire poured through me, my entire body tingling.

That felt very nice. Even terribly exciting. I kissed him again in response.

“Sweet thing,” he breathed against my mouth, punctuating his words with tiny nips and licks. “I want to kiss your breasts.”

I moaned at the visual, my hips rocking against his at the thought. He growled low in his throat and rocked back, pressing that hardness against the apex of my thighs, my sweatpants suddenly seeming too thin.

Beau slid down my body, his hands sliding down my sides, pressing his face against my collarbone and sliding lower, nuzzling me through the fabric. Inch by slow inch, he moved down until his chin rested between my breasts, and my breath came in short, rapid gasps as I watched him, waiting anxiously.

He looked up at me, and as he did so, his mouth slid over a fraction, and then lightly bit at one nipple through the fabric.

My breath exploded in my throat all over again. A thousand bursts of pleasure electrified in that one spot.

He continued to look at me, his gray eyes hot, his hands stroking and gentling me on my sides. “Are you all right?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Then I blurted, “Please … don’t stop.” I needed to feel that sensation again, and he was moving way too slowly.

He bent down over my breast once more, his eyes on mine, and as I watched, he bit at the fabric-covered peak once more. I moaned in pleasure. “Oh, yes … please. Beau, please.”

Beau didn’t need any more encouragement. As I watched him, his tongue emerged and he lapped at my nipple through the thin fabric of the shirt, toying with it. His mouth closed over the sensitive peak and he sucked, teasing the wet fabric against the tip. I rocked my hips against his again, a gasping sob emerging from my throat, and my eyes drifted closed. “Oh, please, Beau.”

Beau froze over me, then pulled away. “I need another shower.”

Then I was left bereft, my eyes opening just in time to see his bare backside disappearing down the hall, leaving me with nothing but a damp spot on my shirt, aching breasts, and an intense throbbing between my legs.

I needed a cold shower myself.





Chapter Ten





Beau returned fully clothed. He must have gotten dressed right out of the shower, because his shirt stuck to parts of his wet body, and his hair formed damp curlicues on his forehead.



He’d been gone long enough for me to compose myself. Beau sat on the edge of the coffee table and tried to take my hands, but I slid them out of his.

“Bathsheba, I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have been mauling you on the couch.”