Leopard's Prey

“You’ve lost your mind, Remy.”
    But she was still slipping the gown down her thighs and legs. She began to peel her sheer stockings from her legs.
    “Maybe, but if I’m right, and I’m certain I am, your leopard is close to emergin’. Your joints hurt. Your jaw. Your body feels like it’s on fire, burning from the inside out. And you have to have sex. Right now. Even in the car with me on the edge of the road. Would you ever really do somethin’ like that if you weren’t under extraordinary circumstances?”
    He wasn’t explaining things very well and she didn’t have much time.
    “I want sex every time I’m anywhere near you, Remy,” she admitted, tossing the stockings into the backseat. The only thing she had left on was a lace panty that didn’t cover much but enhanced and intrigued. “That doesn’t make me a leopard, it makes me like my father, with no self-control and clearly some kind of sex addiction.”
    Remy winced at the distaste and self-loathing in her voice. He glanced at her. “Ouch. You could at least pretend you think I’m so overwhelmin’ly sexy that you can’t possibly resist me.” He let out his breath trying to concentrate on the narrow road to get them to safety. “Take off your panties, Blue.”
    Bijou could barely use her hands. Her knuckles felt inflamed. Her mouth hurt. Even her scalp hurt. There wasn’t a joint in her body that wasn’t sore. Most of all, her body was on fire. She felt desperate for sex.
    She hooked her thumbs in the lace and drew them down, balling them in her fist and holding them almost protectively against her. She had no idea how that tiny scrap of sheer lace was going to protect her against the man she craved like a drug, but if he didn’t pull over soon and let her out of the car, she wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened.
    “Now, what?” Her breasts ached, felt swollen and needy. She took a deep breath, utterly aware of her naked body and the way she was affecting Remy. She could feel the heat pouring off him.
    She didn’t like the spotlight unless she was performing. Maybe she turned into someone else when she sang, but she liked feeling as if she could fade into the background, quiet and observant rather than being the center of attention—until tonight in the club when all those men had surrounded her so protectively. She’d been aware of every one of them—just as she was aware of her bare skin, the heat and Remy right now. She detested herself for that.
    Her attraction had at least been reserved to Remy exclusively. It had been humiliating enough to be so crazy for him that she’d done things she hadn’t even known possible. Now, to think that even for a moment she’d been so insane, feeling sensual and alluring surrounded by the men. She’d smelled them, the various scents so acute, in some way affecting her, and that shamed her. Now what was she doing? She was riding in a car totally naked, doing exactly what Remy wanted of her so she could have wild uninhibited,
ferocious
sex with him. It was all she could think about.
    “Take off my jacket.” He’d worn the dress jacket as a concession to her elegant club. Jacket, white shirt and his jeans. It was the best he could do when he had known clothes would be coming off fast.
    She didn’t argue with him but pulled at his sleeve as he lifted one hand off the steering wheel. She jerked his sleeve off and as he leaned forward, took off his jacket for him. It went sailing into the backseat to land over the top of her gown.
    When she started to settle back down, he shook his head. “Now my shirt,” Remy ordered. “Hurry, Blue. It’s goin’ to be too late in another few minutes.”
    She didn’t know what he meant by too late, but she leaned into him to unbutton the immaculate white dress shirt. He’d looked so handsome when he’d walked into the club. Her heart had nearly stopped, and then began pounding hard. She loved the way he walked with such confidence. The moment she saw him again, she knew she was lost. Remy was her hero, and he always would be. She had no idea she would have such a physical reaction to him, especially when as a teenager and during her college years she had never once been tempted to give herself to a man.
    Her hands were clumsy on the buttons, her knuckles aching, the tips of her fingers on fire. She could barely breathe as she slipped the buttons free of the openings. Her hands kept brushing his bare skin, sending little electrical