Page 8 of Meow

She blinks. "What?"

I shove her purse at her, bending every fiber of restraint I have on not ripping the bag open and finding some sort of ID for myself. "Show me your driver's license. Now."

A slow smile spreads across her face as she reaches into the purse, pulling out a slim wallet. She flips it open, revealing her ID.

I study it carefully. Tabitha Marie Burrows. DOB confirms it—eighteen years and four months old. Legal. Mine.

"Satisfied?" she asks, as I hand it back.

I close the distance between us in one step, my body caging hers against the shelves. "Not yet."

Her breathing hitches as I plant my hands on either side of her head, bending until my face is level with hers. I inhale deeply, taking in her sweetly intoxicating scent, and she reaches up to trace one of my tattoos with a finger.

“I need something in return,” she says.

“Name it.”

Tabby licks her lips, then nods. “These cats.” She taps at the ink on my forearm. “Are you a cat person, or, like, a catsacrificeperson?”

I narrow my eyes. “You know any cat sacrifice people?” When she shakes her head dumbly, I draw a breath. “Because if you did, I would be taking names, and those people would not survive the day.”

She meets my gaze squarely, and I don’t look away. If this is her way of making sure I’m being honest, I’ll take it. I’ll never lieto her. If she asked me right now, I’d give her my whole fucking life story.

“Good,” she nods with a satisfaction that seems final and I don’t dwell, instead I close the remaining inches between us giving her a full court press of what she’s doing to me.

"Do you know what this is?" I growl, pressing my hardness against her stomach.

Her eyes widen, but not in fear—in wonder. She nods, a small movement that sends her pink hair dancing around her shoulders.

"Use your words, kitten."

"It's...you. Wanting me." Her voice is small but steady, and fuck if that doesn't make me even harder.

"And do you know what happens to little kittens who tease tigers?" I reach up, touching one of her sparkly ears, letting my finger trail down to the soft shell of her real ear. She shivers.

"They get eaten?" she whispers, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

A groan escapes me as I bend further, my lips hovering just above hers. "Smart girl."

I capture her mouth with mine, swallowing her surprised gasp. She tastes like chocolate and coffee and something uniquely Tabby that I could get drunk on. Her lips are soft, pliant under mine, and when I swipe my tongue against the seam of her mouth, she opens for me with a little moan that nearly brings me to my knees.

My hands move to her waist, spanning it easily—Christ, she's tiny compared to me. I could break her with one wrong move. The thought makes me gentler than I've ever been as I lift her, setting her on a shelf at the perfect height. Her legs part instinctively, and I step between them, pressing closer.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" I mutter against her lips, grinding against her center. "Every fucking minute since you walked down that hall this morning."

She flattens her palms on my chest. "Show me," she challenges, and that defiance sparks something wild in me.

I kiss her deeper, harder, one hand sliding up to cradle her face. My other hand finds her knee, tracing upward along the smooth skin of her thigh, pushing her skirt higher with each inch.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," I growl against her mouth, pulling back to look at her—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, those green eyes hazed with desire. "Too good for someone like me."

She frowns, fingers tightening in my hair. "Don't say that."

"It's true." I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "I'm a monster, kitten."

"You're not," she argues, gasping as I nip at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. "You're just...big."

I can't help the chuckle that rumbles through me. "In more ways than one."

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