Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(76)

A harsh caterwaul came from behind him. Startled, he nearly jumped out of his shoes. He turned to see the big, baleful cat glaring at him.

Zoë pulled away from Alex, her eyes wide. Seeing the cat, she laughed breathlessly. “I’m sorry. Poor Byron.” She bent to pet the Persian.

“Poor Byron?” Alex asked incredulously.

“He’s insecure,” she explained. “I think he needs reassurance.”

Alex gave the cat a narrow-eyed glance. “I think he needs to be drop-kicked from the front doorstep.” His attention was diverted as Zoë held up the gaping front of her dress with one hand.

“Let’s go into the bedroom,” she said. “He’ll settle down in a few minutes.”

Following Zoë, Alex turned and closed the door in the cat’s face. After a moment of silence, they heard a drawn-out yowl, accompanied by scratching.

Zoë gave Alex an apologetic glance. “He’ll be quiet if we leave the door open.”

There was no way he was letting a cat watch while he had sex. “Zoë, do you know what the word ‘cockblocked’ means?”

“No.”

“It’s what your cat is trying to do to me.”

“I’ll give him some catnip,” Zoë said in a moment of inspiration. Opening the door, she paused at the threshold and told him, “Don’t change your mind while I’m gone.”

“I can’t change my mind,” he said darkly. “I’ve already lost it.”

Zoë put a spoonful of dried catnip into a brown paper grocery bag, and set it sideways on the kitchen floor. Byron purred and arched against her hand, pleased to have her attention focused on him. “Be a good boy and stay in here, okay?” Zoë whispered.

The cat sniffed at the grocery bag and crept in. The paper crackled and sagged as Byron executed a slow roll inside.

Returning to the bedroom, Zoë closed the door.

Alex had taken off his shoes and was sitting on the edge of the bed, which was covered with a flowered duvet. He looked big and vaguely dangerous in the confines of her bedroom. The glow from the lamp played over the hard perfection of his features, the gleaming black layers of his hair.

“We may have to get creative,” he said. “Not being forewarned, I don’t have any kind of protection for you.”

“I bought some just in case,” she admitted.

One of his brows arched. “You were pretty sure I’d end up at your place.”

“Not sure,” she said. “Just optimistic.”

“Bring them to me.” The raw velvet of his voice caused the back of her neck to prickle in excitement.

Zoë went to the tiny bathroom and closed the door. After undressing and slipping into a soft pink robe, she found the box of condoms, and returned to the bed.

Alex’s gaze traveled slowly over the robe, down to her exposed ankles and bare feet, and back to her flushed face. Taking the box from her, he opened it, took out a packet, and set it on the night table. To her surprise, Alex took out another packet and set it beside the first. She blinked and felt her face turn hot. Sending her a pointed glance, Alex put a third packet on the nightstand.

Zoë couldn’t hold back an airless giggle. “Now you’re being optimistic,” she said.

“No,” came his measured reply, “I’m sure.”

She thought with private amusement that there were situations in which a touch of male arrogance was not necessarily a bad thing.

Alex set aside the box and stood. He unbuttoned his charcoal gray shirt and let it drop to the floor. His vee-neck undershirt was crisp white against tanned skin. Tentatively Zoë reached for the hem of the tee, the bleached cotton holding the warmth and salty-clean scent of his body. She pulled it upward, and he moved to help her. As the undershirt was stripped away, his body was revealed, elegant in its spare, hard strength. For a split second, she wondered if he would be gentle enough, careful enough. It had been so long since she’d been intimate with anyone.

He focused on her, taking in her dazed expression. “Worried?” he asked quietly, his hands coming to her arms, caressing over the robe.

“No, I …” She gave him an unsteady smile. “I just want to remind you that I’m not very skilled.”

“I got it covered,” he said. Pulling her closer, he nuzzled against her hair, the heat of his breath sinking to her scalp.

Yes. That much she knew. The awareness of his experience sent a nervous flutter through her stomach.

Alex drew her to the bed and lay beside her. His callused hand came to the side of her face, warmth and roughness cradling her cheek. He kissed her, slow and insatiable, the taste of him sweet and edged with lemonade tartness. She opened eagerly to the flavor and rolled to press closer to him, trembling in excitement at the feel of the hard masculine form all along hers. Her hands wandered over the arousing textures of him, the silky-coarse hair on his chest, the sleek hardness of his shoulders, the shaven bristle of his jaw.

He nuzzled beneath her jaw and worked his way to the hollow behind her ear, and touched his tongue to her earlobe. Shivering, she turned to find his lips with hers. More of those dizzying wholemouthed kisses, a little deeper, rougher.

Heat had accumulated beneath the pink robe. She wriggled to be free of the confining fabric, she was smoldering, suffocating. Clumsy with desire, she fumbled at the fabric belt. The knot defied her efforts, tightening adamantly until she began to wrench at it in frustration.