A Cougar's Claim (Charmed in Vegas Book 7) (3 page)

He hadn’t even apologized. In fact, he’d grabbed her and started making out with her. Got all handsy and shit and here she was moaning and grinding on him like she’d just drop her panties for him any second now.

Crap. She wanted to drop her panties. What an asshole.

The nerve. The fucking balls.

“Kit Barrientos, put me down right now.”

The tone of her command snapped into the air, and he went rigid.

“No.”

“No?” She wanted to punch him. Right in the face. Right after she punched herself, because his refusal warmed up that part of her that loved stupid, bad, fucking ideas.

“Why?”

“Why?” She parroted his question. “Are you for real right now? You need me to spell that shit out for you?”

The conflict of emotions playing out across his face might have amused her another time. Desire, anger, frustration, tenderness, fear, joy. Sighing in consternation, he stepped back and let her slide to the floor. Her knees wobbled, all the air around her gone stale.

“I’m sorry.” Both hands remained clasped around her forearms.

Arguing with him to get him to release her arms would only agitate him further, so she settled for a scowl and a healthy jab to his mid-section.

Questions roiled up and around her, muffling the world and drowning out everything but the unsteady
thump-thump
of her heart and the whistle of breath across her teeth. It was really him.

Kit. Her first love.

He still knew how to stop the world with a kiss.

They stared at each other. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him or tackle him to the floor. The cougar slowly receded, his human eye color leaching back in to replace the cougar’s gold.

He squinted and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The hem of his jeans was ragged and worn, little scraggly white bits of fabric fluffed around his heel like dandelion seeds. “I’m sorry I grabbed you like that. I thought...uh, actually, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, that makes it so much better. Asshole.” She hoisted her bag to her shoulder. Somehow it’d fallen to the floor and she hadn’t even noticed.

“It was instinct.” He cleared his throat, cringed, and edged further away, the tips of his ears red. “I, ah, damn... I shouldn’t have picked you up like that.”

“Right. You shouldn’t have.” Her hands clenched, aching to grab him, tow him toward her, and kiss him again until neither one of them could breathe, Rhiannon scowled and took a half-step back. Stupid instinct. The go-to excuse for Bad Fucking Idea shifters everywhere.

Strained silence pregnant with shared memories and a decade of hurt crowded around and through them. The chime of the elevator arriving in the bay down the hall broke through the air and with it the spell-like quality of the moment.

“So...what are you doing here?” Kit angled his lean, muscular frame in a way that blocked her view into the room.

What the hell was he hiding? “I live here.”

“In the hotel?”

A startled laugh bubbled up and she almost snorted. “No. Vegas.”

“Hmm.”

Heat fizzled over her as he swept his gaze from the crown of her head to her feet. Kit licked his lips, and that pull deep inside her pulsed with renewed energy. Swaying toward him without conscious thought, the tight tips of her breasts collided with his lower chest.

But then she recalled how he’d never tried to contact her. How he’d taken her innocence and destroyed all the fragile, incandescent hopes she’d shared with him. Hopes and dreams that had included him in her life. Screw him.

“Look, I get it. We only knew each other a week, right? I mean, summer loves aren’t meant to last. It would have been nice if you hadn’t run away and left me in the truck alone, but we were just kids. All those voodoo dolls I made of you obviously didn’t work since you have all your hair and probably an eight pack under that shirt.”

“Voodoo dolls?” The jerk smiled. He actually smiled and she had to fight the urge to smile back. “You care.”

“I so do not care.” Rambling. She was rambling. But at least if she rambled, she wouldn’t cry in front of the man who’d pulverized her heart. “There’s no reason to be all weird about it now. It’s been like ten years or something. I don’t remember exactly because it was over so fast. Like, I’m not even sure how long ago it was because it was just so... Anyway, I’m sure you’ve gotten better at, ya know—” Rhiannon made a circle with her left fingers and poked her right index finger in and out of the space.

The barest hint of color crept into his cheeks and the skin at the corner of his left eye twitched. “You’ve thought about me.”

Rhiannon compressed her lips. She’d already embarrassed herself enough. He could smell the arousal still clinging to her like a second skin. “Only enough to try and curse you. It obviously never worked though.”

“I’m sorry.” Kit’s nostrils flared. He reached toward her, hand palm up in supplication. “I am deeply, horribly sorry.”

She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t take his hand. She wasn’t giving in that easily. “For what?”

The hand fell to his side. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Not sorry for what he’d done ten years ago. Sorry for kissing her just now when she hadn’t even known who he was.

“That’s right.
You
kissed
me
. Not the other way around.” Pressing her advantage, she shoved him back with her palm. “You assaulted me. With your tongue. And you groped me. Just, you know, had your hands...and I’m not saying it didn’t feel good or whatever but it was totally not cool. Pretty damn rude actually. I have a show tomorrow night and if I have to cover up a big ass hickey on my neck you’ll be sorry.”

He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Rhiannon—”

“Shush. And don’t play with my hair. This is serious. I can’t get on stage all marked up like I’m someone’s woman, can I? It destroys the illusion.”

Kit shoved his hands in his pockets. “What illusion?”

“The illusion that they can have me. That I’m available.” Frustrated and out of sorts, she banged her head against the wall behind her.

“You’re not.” Heavy hands closed over her hips and dragged her forward.

“Pfft. Says who? You?” Hot, wet suction closed over her throat. Pressing her thighs together to try and decrease the ache building there, she allowed the pleasure of his touch to wash over her for a few moments. This was the worst idea in the history of ideas. Worse than that time she wore her kitty cat dance costume through a hotel lobby during a furry convention. “Kit, get off me right now, or I’m going to neuter you.”

Palm flat to the wall next to her head, he rested his forehead against hers. She should shove him away. She was so...so...so damn mad and hurt and confused and horny.

“You can’t do this. I haven’t seen you in
years
. You can’t just grab me and kiss me and make me feel—” Ugh. Fuck this. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” Cursing with his next heavy exhale, Kit toyed with her hair again. She slapped his hand away. “Tell me what to say. How I can fix this.”

Anger simmered along with a dozen other conflicting emotions. How in the hell could he not know what to say?
Sorry I took your virginity and ran away after I’d made you think I loved you
would have been a decent start.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, and rolled her stare up to give him her best I-hope-your-balls-shrivel-up-and-fall-off glare.

The ding of an arriving elevator caught her attention. A tall, waifish woman with hair the color of a sunset and the multifaceted gem-like eyes of a dragon shifter sauntered toward them in four inch spike stilettos, pausing to read room number plaques. Waving, Rhiannon forced a smile at the woman. She could use a friend right now, and spotting the dragon shifter felt like a mulligan tossed her way by the Fates. The whole kiss thing made sense now. Kit must have put in a call for some professional company and grabbed her by mistake.

“This makes way more sense than you grabbing me randomly and thinking I’d want to make out.” She really hadn’t known him at all, had she? The guy she’d fallen for wouldn’t be in Vegas partying with his irresponsible, thieving cousin, and patronizing prostitutes. No, her Kit was a hard working home body who’d loved small town life in the mountains.

“Hey, Inila, I think this is the room you’re looking for.” Rhiannon waved to the dragon shifter. Inila had two hobbies: having sex and making money.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t grab you randomly.” Kit frowned.

“Don’t lie.” Rhiannon turned her back on him to hug her friend. A few more minutes and she’d never have to see his sexy jerk ass again. A good thing too, because tears were gathering in her eyes and her throat felt funny. “Hey girl, I heard a rumor you applied to get a license to fly around the Grand Canyon for sightseeing trips. Is that true?”

“You know I’m always looking for a new market. The human FAA is giving me some grief, but I’ll find a way around them. Some promo photos with you on my back in the flame themed costume would be amazing. Don’t even think about saying no.” The dragon grinned, flashing the ever-sharp points of her canines. “We’ll hammer out a deal for upfront payment and something to take care of you on the back end as well. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you much at the club.”

If Inila ever decided to expand her empire into loan sharking, she’d take over the entirety of Vegas inside a month. The woman had unparalleled business sense.

“My mother got sick. I went home to check up on her,” Rhiannon cleared her throat. There’d been more to it than just checking up, but family business was best kept private. And now she had to find Jase. The dick.

Inila bent down and kissed her on the cheek, a subtle way of marking her with a measure of protection. “You smell like this male. I thought you were done fucking shifters.”

“I am. He grabbed me before I could get out of arm’s reach. Typical alpha-hole.”

“Really? I thought maybe you fell with your mouth open and landed on his face.” Inila snorted in irritation.

Well, maybe she deserved the derision. Inila had witnessed the walk of shame and the accompanying battles with ice cream too many damn times.

“No. This was all him. Him and his grabby hands and his muscles and his freakin’ sexy ass mouth—”

Kit smirked. “You liked it.”

“Go away Kit.” A flush prickled over her cheeks and across her chest. She shoved against his heavy chest with both hands. Muscles tensed under her palms. Kit sucked in a deep breath and before she could snatch her hands back he trapped them beneath his.

“No.” Turning so he obscured her view of Inila, Kit dipped his head and captured her gaze.

She stared, transfixed, as his eyes flared with magic and his beast looked out at her. A shiver raced over and through her, and every tiny hair on her neck rose. “Hi?”

A barely audible purr vibrated past his lips.

A deep, grinding growl that sounded like rocks sliding against each other rolled out of Inila’s throat. “Keep your hands to yourself shifter, or I’ll rip them off and eat them.”

Sparks rose and fell in Inila’s irises, a sign of her magic awakening. Not good. She didn’t want Kit to die, even if he had broken her heart and then thought he could randomly show up out of nowhere and molest her with his mouth. If Inila decided to shift and fry Kit, there wasn’t much anyone could do. Dragons were nearly impossible to kill—rumored to only be vulnerable to weapons made from dragon bones and scales.

Rhiannon doubted those weapons even existed. If dragons ever died, they slunk off alone in the night and hid their body like a sick pet cat.

Rhiannon cleared her throat. A messy ball of hurt and confusion crawled up her throat. “It’s fine Inila, don’t worry about it. He’s made it clear he’s not into being with me for anything other than a one and done.”

“Rhiannon—” Kit’s voice was a snarl she felt more than heard.

“Look Kit, I’m trying to find my...friend Jase. The desk clerk told me he rented this room.” Inching away, she wriggled her hands free and tucked them behind her back. Anything to keep her stupid hands from reaching for him. “How’d you get in here? Do you have a key? Are you here with Jase?”

Deep wrinkles formed between Kit’s eyebrows and bracketed his mouth. A muscle near his eye twitched. “I’m not here with Jase.”

“Well, do you know where he is? I have to find him.” A tiny spurt of hope ignited in Rhiannon’s chest. Finally, she was getting somewhere with this search that’d taken her into almost every bar and club on and off the Strip.

“He’s not here. And I’m not sorry about the kiss, in fact, I’m going to fucking kiss you again.” He crowded in closer.

“Back off pussy cat.” Inila sidestepped between them and elbowed him in the gut hard enough to force him into the middle of the hallway. “The clock’s ticking. Every minute you waste out here in the hallway is going to cost you.”

“What the—? I told you, I didn’t call you.” Kit tried to get around Inila, a scowl turning his lips down and the reflective gold of his cougar’s eyes glinting. “Damn it dragon, get out of my way.”

“I don’t think so.” Inila crossed her arms over her chest and popped a hip out. “Rhia, if you’re going, it’s a good time to get gone.”

God, her friend was right. She had to leave, now, before Kit touched her again. Each moment of skin-on-skin contact made it more difficult to leave him. If he kissed her again, she’d lose control and give zero fucks about the consequences. Rhiannon shook her head and turned on her heel. Deciding to let Inila play guard dragon with Kit, she stuffed all the hurt and confusion inside down deep where she’d hopefully be able to forget about them until she’d found Jase and the money.

She didn’t need men like Kit Barrientos in her life. Tossing her hair out and over her shoulder, she put some serious sway into stomping down the hallway like she’d just destroyed the runway.

Maybe one of the staff members had seen Jase sneak out. Desperation threatened to overwhelm her, gobble her up like the ogre she’d taken the loan from. Mancini had been happier than hell when she’d begged for an extension to get the money because he thought he had her backed into the perfect trap with no way out.