Burning Up

stress of the day wiped away by the sight of her all sleep mussed and kissable. “Let me in?”
    Pulling back, she waved him in. “Dear God, Emmett,” she said the instant he was inside. “You could’ve fallen and broken your fool neck.”
    “I’m a leopard, mink. Climbing’s my thing.”
    “I don’t think leopards evolved to climb two-storied—” A gasp and she nudged his face toward the light coming in through the window. “What happened?”
    “I didn’t dodge fast enough.” He pushed down the window, knowing Nate wouldn’t be able to hear anything now if they kept their voices low. “My own fault.”
    Ria slapped a hand on his chest. “I want a straight answer. Talk.”
    He fingered the strap of her ankle-length satin nightgown. The material looked soft and utterly silky. He wanted to gather it up in his hands and bare something even softer and silkier.
    “Emmett!” A low whisper, but her eyes were snapping fire.
    Sliding his hands down her arms, he tugged her closer. “Who wants to talk?” He dropped his head, nuzzled the scent of her into his lungs.
    Feminine heat and a delicate, exotic perfume.
    Licking out to taste it was instinct. He wanted to know everything about his mate. The leopard smiled at the easy, absolute realization. Of course she was his mate. Why the hell else would he have climbed up that damn wall? Only for Ria. “I like your perfume.”
    She shuddered. “You’re being bad again.”
    “Did you buy it for me?” He stroked his hands down her back, pressing her softness against the pounding heat of his cock.
    “I-I had it from a gift set.” She tangled her hands in his hair. “It said it’s formulated for changelings.”
    “Mmm.” Nibbling his way up from her neck to her lips, he took her mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. “Our sense of smell is so strong, normal perfume is too intense.”
    “I can’t even smell this one,” she murmured against his lips. “Guess you’ll have to buy my perfume for me.”
    His cat purred, wondering if she realized what she’d just given away. “I’m going to buy you bubble bath, too.”
    “Emmett.” A moan.
    He kissed it away. “Does your door have a lock?”
    “Yes.” She pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck. “But it’s not set.”
    Groaning, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the door. “Do it.”
    “Say please.”
    He looked down into that teasing face and gave in to the urge to bite, sinking his teeth—very carefully—into the sensitive spot between shoulder and neck. She trembled, and he felt the lock turn. “How quiet?” he asked, licking over the mark as he carried her to the bed.
    “My mother has ears like a bat.”
    Grinning, he dropped her lightly on the mattress, coming down on top of her as she finished the sentence. She was all soft and curvy under him, the satin of her nightgown delicious torture. He ran his hand down the side. It snagged. “Damn.” His hands were rough, calloused, nothing like her creamy flesh.
    “I love your hands, Emmett.” It was an intimate whisper in the night-dark of her room.
    He looked down into those intelligent eyes, and knew he was lost. Raising himself off her and to the side, he said, “I don’t want to mess up your pretty nightgown. Pull it up for me.”
    She swallowed, but her hands moved to the satin, pulling it up with slow, sensual tugs. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”
    “Hmm.” He cupped her knee as it was revealed, waiting for more, for everything.
    “You going to mess up my interviews next time, too?”
    The sweet slope of her thigh. “Probably.” He stroked his hand up, knew he’d have to taste.
    A soft moan, her leg rising slightly, that knee bending as she rubbed her foot on the sheet. “How do you do this to me?”
    Shifting his hand fully between her legs, he cupped her.

EIGHT
    H er gasp was almost silent this time, her body rising in a sinuous curve. Tempted beyond measure, he leaned in to steal another kiss. “The same way you do it to me.” She was so damp and hot under his palm that it was all he could do not to tear off her panties and slide his fingers into liquid-soft flesh.
    Her hands tugged at his T-shirt. “Off.”
    He considered it. “I’ll have to move my hand.” And he didn’t want to.
    Ria’s lips parted. “Your eyes have gone leopard.”
    “I can smell you, all slick and luscious and ready.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the enticement of her, teasing, playing, caressing.
    Her eyes