My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) by Shelley Munro

Author:Shelley Munro [Munro, Shelley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: paranormal romance, feline shapeshifter
Publisher: Munro Press
Published: 2016-07-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Gerard led London into the tiled en suite off his bedroom. While he and Henry shared the house, they’d decorated their private rooms to their personal specifications. Heavily soundproofed too, to keep the illusion of privacy because they intended to share their house even after they found mates. As he turned London to face him and reached behind her to flick her bra closure, he spared a thought for Henry. He’d heard Henry and Jenny when they’d got busy in the kitchen, before he’d closed his bedroom door. They’d been happy and now sadness engulfed his friend, along with anger and a craving for revenge. His breath hissed out at the last bit.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’ll keep a close eye on Henry. If we find the man—person—responsible for Jenny’s death, his wolf will want blood.”

“Blood?”

“Revenge,” Gerard said, going for truth. Best thing, he decided.

“I understand. I feel that way myself.”

“How big is this Royce character? How tall?” He should have asked her earlier. He traced the loosened cup of her bra, skimming her creamy curves and reveling in her swift intake of air. “London?”

She coughed and delicate color shaded her cheeks.

He laughed and pressed a butterfly kiss to her heated skin.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Can’t help it.” He reached past her and turned on the shower. “Strip.”

“I don’t react well to orders.” That prissy English accent again. God, it made him hot.

“Please strip.”

“Better,” she said grudgingly and slid her bra down her arms. “Stop staring.”

“Hard not to. You’re beautiful.”

She snorted, and he grasped her upper arms, turning her to face him.

“I mean every word. I wouldn’t change a single thing. The man or men in your past who hurt you didn’t have a clue about class and beauty. Their loss, my gain.”

“Sweet-talker.”

“Get naked and into the shower. I have plans for the rest of our evening.”

She shimmied from her jeans and panties and sauntered past him to stand under one of the showerheads in the tiled wet room. He’d liked the idea of no cubicle and multiple showerheads to pummel his aching muscles after a hard run or a sparring session with Henry or Sam, when he was in town. Plus, there was plenty of room for two.

He crowded London closer to the wall, fitting his front to her back, and nuzzled her neck. The temptation to bite struck him like a punch—not unexpected. Not prudent either, yet he allowed his sharp teeth to scrape across her mating spot. She shuddered, her reaction not helping his restraint.

She turned in his arms and smiled up at him through wet hair. “Are we going to talk here?”

“No.” A comfortable bed beckoned. “In bed, after we’ve made love.” He never mentioned making love to another woman. With his past women, it had been about sex and feeling good, lighter. Oh, he made sure they’d had as much fun as he did. Different now. More important. Now, he cared about her reaction, her enjoyment, her comfort. If he could concentrate on something else, he’d control his demanding feline.

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