Deliciously Mated (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Clara tried to take her time. She really did. But she had a feeling it wasn’t enough.

Her circumstances weren’t anything she’d ever imagined for herself. Trapped indoors with a paranormal creature. His apparent mate, whatever the hell that entailed. And many years of possible jail time nipping at her heels. The wild part of her kept looking for chances to escape back to her camp. To her skink. To anything that was her own. But the rational side, the thinking, planning, logical side of her knew the truth. That from the moment she’d lost her book to Eagan, her days of freedom were numbered.

All she could do now was ride this out.

And maybe… just maybe she was ready for a change. When she’d taken to the woods so long ago, she’d had no plan. No time limit for how long she planned on being gone. She’d told her sister not to look for her. Maybe she’d listened, maybe she hadn’t. There was no way of knowing. But she’d had her own family to take care of. A husband and two small children.

Clara let herself wonder about them. As a rule, she didn’t think of her past. It wasn’t welcome in her woods. But technically, she wasn’t there anymore.

Esther would be eight now, and Hillary, eleven. Almost a teen. She would have missed so much of their childhood.

Clara closed her eyes, letting the water hit her face and wash away any tears. She wasn’t sure if they were there or not, and she didn’t want to know.

Better not to know. Feeling was too hard.

At base, she needed to survive. She did
not
need to feel.

She grabbed the disposable razor she’d found in Eagan’s cabinet. It felt like hitting the jackpot, finding one that he hadn’t used. She didn’t even care that it was a man’s. A razor was a razor was a razor. And this thing had five blades so it was like, the Lamborghini of razors. Who the hell needed five blades?

She looked down, considering her bush, and amended that.

What
man
needed five blades?

Using Eagan’s spicy smelling conditioner as shave cream, she carefully dragged the razor over her legs. But there was hardly anything to remove after her spa clay treatment.

She shivered.
Never again
.

She repeated the process with her underarms and tried to figure out what to do with her bikini area. The cavewoman in her said to leave it. The hair was there for a reason. But maybe a little trim would be a good idea. Who knew when she’d find another razor.

Did they offer razors in prison or was that something you had to buy with the three cents you got for making license plates or whatever.

She started at the crease of her thigh and worked inward, but it was less shaving and more hacking away, machete in the brush style. Eagan’s Lamborghini razor wasn’t cutting it.

Clara sighed. A slight culling would have to do.

She turned off the water and dried her body with his too-soft towels. She’d miss sun-drying. Bathing in the hot springs. Even that harsh unscented soap.

Quickly, she dressed in Eagan’s clothes. He was right, the fabric was much softer than her jeans and flannel. At one time she’d have considered it comfortable. But now she was used to rough and tough. She had calluses. Plenty on the outside. And not as many as she’d hoped for on the inside.

In the cabinet, she found mouthwash. She rinsed and gargled. It was the best she could do with her toothbrush being back at camp.

With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped into the main room. Eagan stood at the bed, fluffing a pillow.

“Feel better?” he asked, not looking at her.

“A little. You?”

He found her eyes, smirking. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay, you know. Masturbating is perfectly normal. Functional even.”

His jaw opened in surprise. Why did he always look like that with her? What she’d said wasn’t
that
weird.

Unless…

“Or maybe cat-men don’t masturbate? I-I don’t know how all that works for you. I just assumed—”

“It works the same,” he blurted.

She shrugged. “Okay then.”

He tossed the fluffed pillow to the bed.

“I didn’t masturbate.”

“Oh. Well. You know… not my business really. You said you needed time so I thought…”

Eagan closed his eyes as if his head hurt. “Dear god, woman. Can we stop with the sex talk?”

She wanted to laugh. He was strong and gorgeous and he probably had women often, but he came off like a prude.

Clara frowned.
Did
he have women often? The thought bothered her. If she was his mate and all, it seemed like something she should know about him.

“Aren’t you a sexual person, Eagan?”

He froze but then answered her. “More than you know, little woman.”

So he did have sex. He just didn’t like to talk about it.

A kernel of jealousy niggled at her.

“Get in bed,” he commanded.

“We aren’t sleeping together.”

“Oh, yes we are. It’s the only way we’re sleeping. I’m not letting you out of my reach so you can escape me. We have shit to work out in the morning, but for tonight, this is what’s happening.”

Clara eyed him. Something told her she wasn’t getting out of this. She glanced at the bed. The idea of sleeping in a real bed after so long left her uneasy. But after what he’d done in the kitchen to keep her safe…

If what he’d said about being kicked out of his clan was true, then she owed him big time. What kind of man gives up his family to protect a stranger? She didn’t understand it.

Gingerly she placed one knee on the mattress. It was firm, but still had so much give. Inch by inch, she crawled forward, settling on the plush pillow and pulling up the mock fur blanket until it reached her chin.

Eagan stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Then, to her surprise, he began undressing. Slowly, he peeled his shirt up, revealing his rippled abs an inch at a time. His skin was smooth and tan with just a light dusting of hair around his navel. Her eyes snagged on those cords of muscle around his waist forming a cut V to his hips and she licked her lips.

Why was that part of a man so attractive? What function did it serve?

Up and up he went with his shirt until his strong chest was showing. The muscles of his arms bunched and rippled as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

Her breath caught. This man, her cook, he was beautiful. Like art you shouldn’t touch for fear of ruining it.

He stared at her, his eyes stormy.

Clara swallowed the beat of her heart. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking off my clothes.”

With rough movements, he undid his belt and then the button of his jeans. He never took his eyes off her as he shoved his pants down and stepped out of them. Before she could look away, he’d yanked his boxers down, adding them to the pile.

He stood there, his eyes lasered on her, his fully erect cock jutting proudly in front of him like it was the bow of Good Ship Eagan. Like the needle on a compass and she was true north. It was huge. And
hard
.

God.

She looked away.

“What’s wrong, Clara? This?”

She looked back to find him gripping his erection in a tight fist. He ever so slowly, thrust his hips into it. Once, twice, three times.

“It’s just functional, you know. It’s basically just a sperm hose for making babies.” His voice was low and rough.

She knew that. Of course. But her eyes were riveted as he continued to thrust into his own hand.

“I… I… never said there was no use for sex as pleasure,” she muttered, crossing her arms but unable to look away.

“Didn’t you? You said our bodies were less sexual and more functional. I tend to disagree.”

Okay, she could admit she’d been purposely obtuse earlier. But with the way he was throwing around the word mate, she figured she should remind him of the basics.

He sighed heavily, his mouth hanging open, his face growing red from the pleasure he was obviously feeling. “This feels pretty damn sexual to me.”

It did to her too. Watching him was turning her on big time, and it had nothing to do with functional. Desire whipped down her spine, settling in between her legs and tingling until she squirmed.

“Okay, stop already,” she blurted.

His hand paused at the head of his erection, and the corner of his lip curved up in a rueful smirk.

“What’s the matter, little woman? You need some time?”

Some time. Like he’d needed after she’d undressed.

She met his lust-filled gaze and nodded.

“Good. Because I need a shower.” He strolled toward the bathroom, giving her a stellar view of his ass. Twin globes of perfection, with a slight indention in each side.
Hot
.

Clara blew out a breath and fanned her face.

His body was plenty functional. Its function was to make her sweat. And pant. And lust.

“Oh,” he said, just before he closed the bathroom door. “I’m going to masturbate now. Thought you should know.”

Her jaw hung open and she didn’t even try to contain it. The door clicked shut and she threw her head back on the pillow.

How would she ever sleep now? With that vision of Eagan pumping his erection every time she closed her eyes. After six years, she’d thought she was over sex based on lust. Sex based on purpose had a point and fit into her neat little survival criteria. But what she’d just experienced with Eagan—what little she’d just experienced—left her feeling truly wild. Like even the woods didn’t make her feel.

What was happening to her?

***

Eagan could sleep through a lot. Like the dead, some would say. He was a cat after all, and cats were notorious for sleeping. So all his mate’s tossing and turning didn’t bother him much. He was aware of it, but it never brought him out of sleep. When she touched his shoulder though, that was a different story altogether.

“Wake up,” she hissed. Her mouth was close to his ear. He could feel her breath on his shoulder, and it sent all the blood in his body straight to his cock.

He inhaled deeply, her scent invading his nostrils and making him even more hungry for her. His wild little human was divine. And the fact that she wasn’t unaffected by him… that was just icing on the cake.

“Eagan.” Her whisper broke the silence with another shove to his shoulder.

He rolled onto his back, peeking at her through slitted eyes. “What is it, mate?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I noticed,” he murmured, reaching trough the darkness to touch her cheek.

“Yeah, right,” she said, but she leaned her face into his touch. “You were sound asleep. Snoring, in fact.”

He grinned. “I wasn’t snoring.”

Her lips turned up. “You kinda were.” She sighed, her smile evaporating. “Can I sleep on you? The bed it too soft and you’re obviously hard.” Her eyes skimmed his chest.

“You want to sleep on me?” he asked, unsure. “Like a bed?”

Clara nodded. “It’s either you or the floor. And I’m thinking you’d be much warmer.”

His female wanted to sleep on him. And she was right, he was hard. In the wrong place. His erection throbbed at the mere idea of her on top of his body. She’d surely be even more uncomfortable if she knew.

But how could he tell her no. Those big gold-brown eyes staring at him expectantly, it was impossible.

“Climb up,” he rasped.

Her relief was apparent in the way her shoulders went from tense to slack. He held the covers back for her while she slung her leg around his waist to straddle him. When she was maneuvering, he adjusted his erection so it was laying on his belly. Slowly, she lowered her head to his chest, her torso pressing his hardness between their two bodies.

Eagan grit his teeth. He could do this. His mate needed sleep, and he was going to help her get it.

Easing her legs until they lay parallel with his, she let out a sigh and he felt her body relax.

Aw, damn that felt good. His mate’s comfort was almost as satisfying as sex might be. And a hell of a lot more satisfying than the palmer he’d given himself in the shower.

He took a deep breath and felt his own body relax. But there was nowhere for his arms.

“Better?” he asked.

She nodded against his chest. “Much. Am I too heavy?”

“Not a chance. You’re perfect like this.”

She relaxed a fraction more, making his chest tighten with emotions he’d have to deal with come morning.

“Can I put my arms around you? Would that keep you awake?”

She was silent for so long he wondered if she’d already drifted off.

“Go ahead.”

Eagan slowly brought his arms up until one was wrapped securely around her waist and the other with his palm between her shoulder blades. She let out another relaxed sigh, and he was struck with the realization that everything was as it should be in that very moment in time. A perfect second in an infinity of seconds.