Page 21 of Purrfectly Trapped

She cocked her head and nodded at him. The term of endearment familiar to his kind, had accidentally slipped from his tongue. He couldn’t take it back now. Fuck that. He did not want to take it back.

She was hisshona. His sweetheart. The one bright spot in his life.

Yes, his heart squeezed in his chest at the acknowledgement.

Gretchen was his whole heart. She just didn’t know it yet. He waited, albeit impatiently, until she came back with a dish of shaving butter and a hot towel in her hands. She used the clipper to trim down the uneven mess that was his beard first. Then, she wrapped the hot towel on his face and mixed the butter to a froth.

He watched as she sharpened a straight-edged razor the old fashioned way, and he was immediately impressed. Gretchen removed the towel, standing in front of him, leaning over to reach his skin as she applied the foam to his cheeks, chin, and neck.

Fucking hell. He was going to go off like a volcano at her unwittingly provocative display. Gretchen held the razor up. For a moment, he wondered if this was a good idea, cocking her head to the side as if trying to find the right angle.

“Excuse me,” she muttered, cheeks going pink as she tapped his knees.

Reg could hardly stop the low purr in his throat as he moved his knees apart, allowing the slip of a woman to move between them.

“There we go,” she whispered, spreading more frothy cream on his upper lip.

Reg held still. It was all he could do while that certain part of him hardened like a steel rod. The damn thing was throbbing, aching so for her. Hell, it threatened to burst through his pants.

Fuck. This is not a good idea.He thought, but the Tiger disagreed.

Oh, yes, it is. A very good idea. Mine.

Reg had to work doubly hard to push the beast back. His Tiger had identified her as his fated mate and now the beast wanted him to claim the feisty beauty. He just needed to wait for the right time to talk to her.

Gretchen studied him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her bountiful breasts rustled the fabric of his cape, and he shuddered at the almost contact.

“Cold?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay. Hold still,” she whispered.

Reg inhaled, the foamy mixture smelled of peppermint, and some other woodsy spice he couldn’t name. It was light, and pleasant, but he wished it was unscented. He’d much rather get another lungful of her.

“Damn, Gretch, you give that close a shave to everyone? Cause then I’m next, girl,” Marion, a friendly thirty-something male with thick-rimmed glasses and spiky black hair called out.

He was one of her new stylists, and had introduced himself asMarion the Gay Blade, a tribute to his favorite Zorro movie, he’d said while holding up his rainbow colored scissors. Reg went to look at the male, a snarl on his lips, but Gretchen held him still.

“Don’t move,” she chided, grinning at her new worker’s shenanigans. “Hey, Marion, your poster is falling,” she told the male who shrieked and went to apply more tack to the back of his ten by ten image of the movie in question.

“Now, George, you stay put, honey, you know I need you,” he told the image of George Hamilton dressed in an avocado green Zorro costume.

Normally, Reg would have laughed his ass off. He liked that classic film. But for some reason, his first instinct had him wanting to tear the fucker’s head off.

Jealousy was a new emotion for him. One he wasn’t sure he liked. He knew Shifters tended to be possessive when they found their mates, but he hadn’t truly understood the sensation until just then. After all, he’d never wanted to claim anyone before her.

Mine. Mate.

“Okay, now, I have a straight razor against your throat, no sudden moves, got it?” she commanded.

“Yes ma’am,” his lips twitched, but he didn’t dare grin.

Gretchen narrowed her babyblues, so different from his own dark eyes, as she started to move the cold metal against his overheated skin. Oh yeah, Reg had a fever alright, and there was only one cure for it. Her.

Corny, but true. He needed her badly. His Tiger chuffed at the way she ordered him to stay still, the beast enjoying her bossy side. He’d never liked dominant women before, but if she wanted to tell him what to do, he was game.

It was pretty damn sexy. She moved with the same quick, efficient strokes against his face as she had his hair. Wielding the razor expertly, she didn’t nick him once. Not even a little.

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