Page 13 of Kitty Cat

He didn’t mind all that much; sassing or not, god knew she had a beautiful smile.

“Yogurt?”

Normally, the answer should have been no, because he happened to have balls, but what she calledyogurtwas basically a spoon of the stuff, put on top of a humongous meringue, and covered in fresh berries, so he nodded, watching her closely as she moved. Listening, too; she was right. She didn’t make a noise; not when she stepped, anyway. The old cupboards betrayed her, but otherwise, the woman was incredibly quiet.

“You’re a hunter.”

It wasn’t a question, and she nodded.

“I’ve been raised as one, yes. These days, I’m just a baker, though.”

He sincerely doubted it.

Rygan sat on the high bar stool next to hers and gratefully nodded when she gave him a plate of anything-but-yogurt. One mouthful, and he moaned, taking his untold words back. Shewasa baker, and a good one at that.

“What the fuck is in this?” he asked, because it couldn’t be a damn meringue. At its center, there was a smooth mousse that tasted like heaven.

“That would be pistachio. I’m experimenting for a client who wants some for her wedding cake.”

“Experiment successful.”

All of a sudden, he understood why Daunte had asked if they could order from her bakery; he genuinely didn’t think he’d eaten something that made him consider licking the plate in a long, long time. If there had been no witness, he totally would have, too.

“I don’t know - I tried the mousse inside some choux yesterday - it worked a little better.”

Fuck, he was hard. Thinking aboutfood.Sweet food, too.

“Do you have any choux left?”

Aisling shook her head. “Nope. Ate two dozen of them, and my assistant finished the rest.”

He scrutinized her, wondering where the fuck all the mousse, choux and other dessert she ate went. She had curves, but they were all in the right places; her wider hips, her generous ass. He was pretty sure no one able to inhale two dozen choux had the right to look like her. Their kind were generally slender, because of the exercise they all did in animal form, but still.

“So, Aisling. You know my last name, my height, my profession, and age. You also know what I look like in nothing but a towel. I just know you like to make grown men cry - be it by withholding choux or kicking their ass. Wanna even out the scale?”

“I don’t know, I like being on top.” His dick pushed against his zipper at the visual that conjured. “What do I get for telling you things about me?” she asked, her voice dipping low and suave, shooting right to his already hard cock, making it throb.

She was flirting, probably unaware that he was already fighting to prevent himself from laying her on the table and licking the sweet spot between her legs until she begged for mercy.

“What do you want?” he countered, his gaze intense.

She should have looked away; or rather, females would have. He was quickly learning not to expect her to behave like anyone else, though.

“You get a question, I get one. That’s fair.”

He nodded slowly, reluctantly. There were plenty of things he didn’t like speaking about - namely, his family and that was what most people were really curious about.

Aisling waved, inviting him to go first.

“Last name.”

He’d looked around, and there was letters addressed to five different names on her mahogany dining room table.

Aisling shook her head. “Nope. I veto that one.”

He immediately narrowed his eyes, wondering what reason she might have to hide it. Was she hiding from someone? Was she on the run?

“That’s not how it works.”

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