Rio lay listening to her breathing, his body so hard he felt that just one more brush against her skin might be the last straw. He would shatter into a million pieces. Sleeping on the floor away from her wouldn’t stop it. Cold showers didn’t help. The house was too small for the two of them to
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share unless they were together, and sleeping in the bed next to her and not touching her was just plain impossible.
Intellectually he knew it was because she was close to the Han Vol Dan and she was affecting him with her ripe scent. He wanted to blame it on that, the age-old call of female to male, but in truth, he wanted her in so many other ways. She made him happy and he didn’t even know why. He didn’t care why. He wanted her in his home. At his side. With him. It was fairly simple as he saw it.
Women. They always managed to complicate the simplest issue. He sat up, careful not to disturb her. He would get no sleep if he didn’t slip out into the night and run. The farther and faster the better.
Rachael hoped she was dreaming. It wasn’t a frightening nightmare, but it was disturbing. Not so much the images, but the idea of it all. She could see herself, stretching her body, arching her back, in the throes of sexual need. Not just a wanting—a craving, an obsession. The need was so strong she could think of nothing but finding Rio. Being with Rio. Rio’s hands touching her, stroking her body, driving into her with wild abandon. There was heat and fire and still she wasn’t satisfied. She could see her body rippling With pleasure, her body sleek and moist. Rio rolled over, pulling her on top of him, arid Rachael threw back her head, thrust her breasts in invitation as she rode him frantically. She turned her head to look back at the sleeping Rachael, her face contorting as fur rippled over her body.
Rachael shook her head, stirred drowsily, wriggled a little to find the warmth and reassurance of Rio’s body. He wasn’t there. She turned over, careful of her injured leg. She was definitely alone in the bed. The house was dark, not unusual, Rio never lit a lamp, preferring to pad around the house barefoot, in the nude. He seemed to have such an affinity with the night, preferring that time to any other. Nothing in the shadows affected him or frightened him. He never really seemed to sleep deeply. The few times she
woke in the dark, he was already alert, the change in her breathing enough to awaken him.
She lifted her head and studied the room. The mosquito net hanging over the door swayed like a dancing ghost in the wind. The door was open. Rio had gone on one of his many midnight adventures. He always came back more relaxed, the tension gone from his body. He was usually covered in sweat and would walk softly over to the basin to wash. Rachael loved watching him. She should have felt guilty, a voyeur, but she didn’t. She simply feasted her eyes on his body, watched the ripple of his roped muscles and appreciated the fact that he was so intensely male.
Something shoved at the mosquito netting. A large dark head thrust its way into the house. Rachael froze, her heart in her mouth. Fritz snarled, hissed and rose to back unsteadily toward Rachael. She reached put her hand to the little clouded leopard, touched the fur as he slunk beneath the bed, still hissing. Rachael didn’t take her gaze from the huge, heavily muscled animal pushing his way through the flimsy mosquito net into the house.
The leopard was the largest wild animal she’d ever encountered. It was a male, weighing close to two hundred pounds, pure muscle, exotic black fur from its head to the tip of its tail, its eyes a vivid yellow-green. The leopard swung its head this way and that, peering around the room, ignoring the small snarling cat as if it was beneath its dignity. It stepped fully into the house, the tail switching from side to side. It rubbed its shoulder against the chair and sink, all the while staring at Rachael with far too much intelligence in its eyes.