Page 15 of Meow

I can’t quite stifle the grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

So I’ve just had my balls handed to me by an old lady. But I’ve also gained her respect. It’s a win, even if it means I have to walk away for one evening.

I can do that. It will kill me, but I’ll make the arrangements I need to hold on to my sanity.

A few silent minutes later, Tabby pushes the door open and comes into the room, taking a seat on the arm of the chair I’m occupying. I put an arm around her waist, and her grandmother doesn’t object. Neither does Tabby.

And that’s the way things should be.

“Would you like to stay to dinner, Duffield?” Nana asks, her expression unreadable.

I consider making a quip, telling her I thought there wasn’t enough food. But my father’s wise words come back to me:choose your battles.

“No, ma’am. I have business to take care of. I would like Tabby to walk me out though.”

It’s a liberty, but Nana gives me her blessing with a nod, and doesn’t follow us to the door. So I seize my chance stalling us in the little vestibule just inside the front door closing the other door that leads into the house, trapping us in the too small for my size space but it’s enough for now.

I check the front of the house from the window in the door, scanning, making sure there are no threats because I’m about to be distracted as fuck.

It’s a possessive instinct, honed over years of guarding what’s mine—or whatwillbe.

God, she’s small. A tiny thing, barely reaching my shoulder, but radiating a heat that could melt glaciers. And those damn cat ears. A black headband supporting delicate pink ears, perched atop a cloud of pink hair—a vibrant, unapologetic shade that somehow perfectly suits her. It’s almost…endearing.

Almost.

It makes me want to devour her whole, protect her from everything, and claim her as my own. I pull Tabby against me, capturing her mouth in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, a deliberate claiming, then quickly ignites. Her lips are soft, yielding, tasting of vanilla and a hint of something wilder. A tremor runs through her, and I revel in it. This…this is new.

My heart, which I thought had grown calloused over the years, is suddenly pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. This little thing…she’s dismantling me, layer by layer. I haven’t felt this vulnerable, this alive, in years.

My body responds in ways I hadn’t thought possible. A tightening in my lower abdomen, a warmth spreading through my thighs, a subtle ache between my legs. It’s almost painful.

Her vibrant green eyes are fixed on mine, wide and trusting, flecked with a desire that’s almost intoxicating. I see a flicker of nervousness, but it’s overshadowed by a simmering heat that sets my blood pounding. She’s a fragile porcelain doll, but with a core of fire. My body is responding before my brain can catch up. My pulse is a frantic drumbeat against her spine, my musclescoiled tight, aching to possess her. I haven’t felt this…consumed in years. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

My hands grip her hips, not gently, lifting her slightly, pressing her against the cool plaster of the wall. The satisfying pressure grounds me, a counterpoint to the rising heat between us. The pink of her hair brushes against my cheek, smelling faintly of strawberries. God, she's exquisite.

Her legs instinctively wrap around my waist, her soft center pressing deliciously against my hardness, a silent invitation. She moans softly, a sound that vibrates through me, and I devour her mouth, tasting innocence and a hunger that mirrors my own. The kiss deepens as my hand slides up her back, molding her against me, feeling the heat of her skin through the silk blouse. It’s a deceptively delicate fabric, hiding a core of fire.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough with desire. “Untouched. You’ve saved your virginity for me, haven’t you, kitten?”

That thought sends a jolt of possessive pleasure through me. She trembles against my hands.

Her lips part slightly under my pressure, inviting me deeper. I taste her, a sweet, innocent flavor, and it stirs something primal within me. A need to mark her, to possess her completely. To make sure every man that sees her knows she’s mine.

My hands explore, tracing the curve of her spine, feeling the delicate bones beneath her silk blouse. A warmth spreads through my fingertips, a tingling sensation that makes me want to burrow into her skin.

“What are you thinking?” she whispers, her voice breathless.

“I’m thinking of all the ways I’m going to claim what’s mine,” I growl, deepening the kiss, falling into the warmth of her tongue as it tangles with mine. Our lips part as I finish what I need her to know. “I’m thinking I’m going to bind you to me forever. You’ll be with me forever, body and soul.”

Her breathing comes in quick, shallow pants, eyes glazed with desire. Those eyes are fixed on mine, practically begging for more. I note the pulse throbbing in her neck, delicate and captivating. A small flush is creeping up her cheeks, adding to the vibrancy of her pink hair. She’s breathtaking.

“When?” Her small hand slides between us, caging my rigid length through my pants. The heat is immediate, searing, a pulse thrumming between my legs. I feel a pulse throb in my groin, desperate to be released, desperate to feel her wrapped around me. It’s almost painful, the intensity of my desire.

My hands slide beneath her blouse, exploring the smooth curve of her waist. A shiver runs through her, and I feel a tightening in my own lower abdomen. I want to feel her skin against mine, to taste her everywhere. I want to know every inch of her, to claim her completely.

My control threatens to snap. It always does with her. Years of building walls, of keeping everyone at arm’s length, and she's dismantling them with a single touch. I thrust against her palm, pinning her harder against the wall, feeling the satisfying pressure of her back against the plaster.

“Your grandmother is thirty feet away,” I remind her, a small, delicious restraint, even as my hand slips beneath her skirt, finding the warm, slick heat of her soaked panties. The silk feels like liquid fire against my fingertips, a promise of the inferno to come.

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