Grabbing the hem, he pulled it up and off her in seconds, only to be pulled up short by her bra. A part of him said he should take his time, explore her slowly. But as more blood flowed from his brain to his balls, that wasn’t the part he listened to. All he could think about was getting her naked and burying himself so deep inside her she’d feel him for days.
His fingers attacked the front closure. The plastic clasp snapped from his hurried motions, but he didn’t care. A broken bra meant she couldn’t put it back on, which was just fine with him. He yanked it from her arms and let it fall to the floor as he got his first glimpse.
Her skin was like cream accented with apricot flecks surrounding the pale pink nipples of her sweet breasts. Breasts he could spend all night teasing with the pads of his fingers and the tip of his tongue. But not right now. Now he needed to devour them. Devour her. There would be plenty of time to torture each other later.
Aiden attacked her like a starving man offered his favorite meal. His lips sucked, tongue flicked, teeth scraped. As he kissed his way back up her neck, his hands roamed…and that’s when he noticed it.
Something was wrong.
Drawing back, he studied Kat’s composure. Her head was turned to the side and her eyes were closed. Not like they’d drifted down in the heat of passion, but like she’d shut them on something she didn’t want to see. Even worse, her hands were down at her sides and clenched into fists.
Aiden cupped her face in his hands and gently brought her back to center. “Kat?” Her eyes opened, but they weren’t focused. She could’ve been looking right through him. His chest tightened. She was scaring the shit out of him. “Katherine!”
That seemed to get through to her. At least enough that she blinked and focused on him again, but her body was still tense enough to be in rigor. “Hey, there,” he said softly. “You with me now, kitten?”
She nodded, scanning the room nervously before meeting his eyes again. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He arched a brow. “I don’t know. I was kinda hoping you could tell me. Looked like you went somewhere else for a minute there.”
She was getting skittish. Like a trapped animal itching to escape. If he didn’t lighten things up, she’d probably bolt in the next thirty seconds. “Sorry,” he said, “it’s been so long I think I forgot how these things work. Was I supposed to take you to dinner before or after I ripped your bra off?”
His bad attempt at humor paid off in the way of a small grin. “You’re a moron.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that, sweetheart,” he quipped. Now that he knew she wasn’t about to take off on him, he dropped his clown act. “Seriously, though. What’d I do wrong? And don’t even try telling me nothing, ’cause I swear I’ll tan your hide for lying to me.”
She gasped. “You would not.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow in challenge. “Try me.”
Headlights swung through the windows in the living room with the accompanying sound of a ’72 Nova. He muttered a curse under his breath. “Xan’s home.” He reached down to where her shirt and bra lay in a heap by the door and placed them in her hands. “Go on into my room. I have to talk to him for a few minutes, but then I’ll be in.”
“Maybe you should just take me back to my apartment.”
“Not a chance. I’ll take you back tomorrow if you want, but you’re staying here tonight.” He placed a kiss where her shoulder met her graceful neck, then farther up where her pulse beat a rapid tattoo. He tilted her chin up and skimmed his thumb over her bottom lip. “With me, remember?”
“Irish, I don’t—”
“Please, sweetheart. Go and wait for me.” Her features softened and, with a resigned sigh, she crossed to his room and shut the door behind her.
Kat MacGregor was becoming more mysterious by the minute. They say ignorance is bliss, but they also say knowledge is power. There was no way he could ignore the red flags now waving in his head. He had to talk to her. Had to find out what set her off like it did and how to make sure it never happened again.
But first he had to talk to Xan about getting him into that tournament, or demystifying Kat would be the least of his worries.
Chapter Nine
Kat stood at Irish’s bedroom window, staring through the glass panes at the ghostly scenery. Murky browns and greens of the bayou had turned into hues of gray from the pale moonlight. Cypress trees wept with moss frozen in time without even the barest breeze to give them life.
Lifting her eyes, she gazed up into the night sky to admire the waxing moon. She exhaled and sagged against the wood frame, imagining the soft illumination wrapping its protective rays around her. As a teenager, Kat had found solace in the moon during some of the darkest times in her life. It passed her window most nights, like a glowing guardian in its ever-changing forms, there to center and ground her.