Whisper of Sin (Psy-Changeling #1) 5

Lucas nodded. “It’s not just the human gangs we need to worry about—we don’t handle this challenge right, other changeling groups are going to start looking at our territory.”

“Then let’s make sure we take care of business.”

Emmett spent the rest of the day ensuring his more shadowy informants knew to look out for the truck. By the time night fell, there was only one thing he wanted to do . . . and only one person he wanted to do it with.

Unfortunately, though his split lip had healed with changeling speed, he still had a fairly impressive black eye. No way in hell would Ria’s family let him in through the front door, especially at this time of night. If it had been his daughter, Emmett thought with a twist in his heart, he’d have done the same. But that didn’t mean he was going to stay away from Ria.

Finding his way to the back of the two-story house that was the Wembley home, he nodded at Nate, on watch that shift, and looked up at the window that he knew faced out from Ria’s bedroom. Nate gave him an interested look. “Wall’s got no handholds.”

“If I can hook myself up to that window,” Emmett said, working out the mechanics, “I can get up.”

The other man judged the gap. “Doable.”

Decision made, Emmett backed up until he had enough distance, kicked himself into gear and jumped. The leopard made sure he caught the ledge he

aimed for, and from there, it was a fairly simple climb. Holding himself up with one hand on the lower edge of Ria’s darkened window, while his feet found precarious purchase on the slight ledge of the kitchen window below, he tapped on the glass.

Silence. Then a shush of sound, as if she was wearing something that trailed on the floor.

His mind filled with a thousand erotic images, but the window didn’t go up. Instead, he heard Nate’s phone ring. Ria was being very careful. Smiling as he heard the sentinel answer, he waited.

The window went up a few seconds later. “Are you insane?” Ria hissed, sticking out her head. “How are you even staying up?”

“Not easily,” he said with a grin, the stress of the day wiped away by the sight of her all sleep mussed and kissable. “Let me in?”

Pulling back, she waved him in. “Dear God, Emmett,” she said the instant he was inside.

“You could’ve fallen and broken your fool neck.”

“I’m a leopard, mink. Climbing’s my thing.”

“I don’t think leopards evolved to climb two-storied—” A gasp and she nudged his face toward the light coming in through the window. “What

happened?”

“I didn’t dodge fast enough.” He pushed down the window, knowing Nate wouldn’t be able to hear anything now if they kept their voices low. “My own

fault.”

Ria slapped a hand on his chest. “I want a straight answer. Talk.”

He fingered the strap of her ankle-length satin nightgown. The material looked soft and utterly silky. He wanted to gather it up in his hands and bare something even softer and silkier.

“Emmett!” A low whisper, but her eyes were snapping fire.

Sliding his hands down her arms, he tugged her closer. “Who wants to talk?” He dropped his head, nuzzled the scent of her into his lungs.

Feminine heat and a delicate, exotic perfume.

Licking out to taste it was instinct. He wanted to know everything about his mate. The leopard smiled at the easy, absolute realization. Of course she was his mate. Why the hell else would he have climbed up that damn wall? Only for Ria. “I like your perfume.”

She shuddered. “You’re being bad again.”

“Did you buy it for me?” He stroked his hands down her back, pressing her softness against the pounding heat of his cock.

“I-I had it from a gift set.” She tangled her hands in his hair. “It said it’s formulated for changelings.”

“Mmm.” Nibbling his way up from her neck to her lips, he took her mouth in a slow, lazy kiss.

“Our sense of smell is so strong, normal perfume is too

intense.”

“I can’t even smell this one,” she murmured against his lips. “Guess you’ll have to buy my perfume for me.”

His cat purred, wondering if she realized what she’d just given away. “I’m going to buy you bubble bath, too.”

“Emmett.” A moan.

He kissed it away. “Does your door have a lock?”

“Yes.” She pressed her lips to the pulse in his neck. “But it’s not set.”

Groaning, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the door. “Do it.”

“Say please.”

He looked down into that teasing face and gave in to the urge to bite, sinking his teeth—very carefully—into the sensitive spot between shoulder and

neck. She trembled, and he felt the lock turn. “How quiet?” he asked, licking over the mark as he carried her to the bed.

“My mother has ears like a bat.”

Grinning, he dropped her lightly on the mattress, coming down on top of her as she finished the sentence. She was all soft and curvy under him, the

satin of her nightgown delicious torture. He ran his hand down the side. It snagged. “Damn.”

His hands were rough, calloused, nothing like her creamy

flesh.

“I love your hands, Emmett.” It was an intimate whisper in the night-dark of her room.

He looked down into those intelligent eyes, and knew he was lost. Raising himself off her and to the side, he said, “I don’t want to mess up your pretty nightgown. Pull it up for me.”

She swallowed, but her hands moved to the satin, pulling it up with slow, sensual tugs. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

“Hmm.” He cupped her knee as it was revealed, waiting for more, for everything.

“You going to mess up my interviews next time, too?”

The sweet slope of her thigh. “Probably.” He stroked his hand up, knew he’d have to taste.

A soft moan, her leg rising slightly, that knee bending as she rubbed her foot on the sheet.

“How do you do this to me?”

Shifting his hand fully between her legs, he cupped her.

EIGHT

Her gasp was almost silent this time, her body rising in a sinuous curve. Tempted beyond measure, he leaned in to steal another kiss. “The same way you do it to me.” She was so damp and hot under his palm that it was all he could do not to tear off her panties and slide his fingers into liquid-soft flesh.

Her hands tugged at his T-shirt. “Off.”

He considered it. “I’ll have to move my hand.” And he didn’t want to.

Ria’s lips parted. “Your eyes have gone leopard.”

“I can smell you, all slick and luscious and ready.” He pressed the heel of his hand against the enticement of her, teasing, playing, caressing.

Her eyes fluttered closed. “Emmett”—a husky order—“if you don’t get that T-shirt off, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

Moving his hand with reluctance, he pulled off the T-shirt, then got rid of the rest of his clothing—he wanted no more interruptions. Ria’s eyes went wide as he came down beside her again, his hand closing over her thigh. “I want to rip off your panties.”

Those gorgeous eyes went impossibly wider. “If you promise to buy me a replacement pair.”

He froze, so aroused he could barely see straight. Burying his head against her neck, he breathed deep. It only twisted the coils more strongly around him. And those coils were soft, feminine, erotic beyond all measure. Fingers tensing, he tore off the scrap of fabric that had so tormented him.

Ria arched up and he took her mouth again, addicted to the sugar and spice taste of her.

Under his fingers, she was pure feminine seduction, hot and slick with need. But he wasn’t ready to end this. Continuing to play his fingers between her legs, he licked and kissed his way down her throat, and over the satin to the hollow of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell in jagged breaths, her hand sliding through his hair.

“Emmett.” Her voice was husky, her passion unhidden.

Not yet, he told himself, and flicked his fingers over her clit, making her body jerk. When she tugged on his hair, he refused to go up. Instead, he closed his mouth over her nipple, sucking hard through the delicate satin of her gown. Her fingers clenched and unclenched convulsively, her entire body twisting as if it wanted to escape . . . and get closer at the same time.

Sensing that she was riding the fine edge of pleasure, Emmett slipped two fingers into her tight sheath, stroking her to trembling release. She bit his shoulder to muffle her cry, inciting the leopard to primal possessiveness. Petting her down from the orgasm, he moved to cover her body with his, one hand on the pillow beside her head, the other tangled in her hair as he tugged her back for an almost savage kiss.

She opened to him immediately, her arms wrapping around him. He nipped at her mouth and tore the straps of her gown, pushing down the material so he could close his hand over the sweet roundness of her breast. When he released her mouth, she pulled him back down. Growling low in his throat, he gave her what she wanted, molding her breast under his hand. She was so lush that he wanted to bite. Next time, he promised himself.

This time, his patience was at its limit.

Nudging apart her thighs, he nipped at her lower lip. “Put those pretty legs around my waist, mink.”

An exquisite slide of soft feminine flesh as she gave him what he wanted. Then she gave him more, pressing her lips to his throat, nibbling on him with delicate possession as he fought not to thrust inside her in a single hard push. Shuddering, he ran one hand down her back to tilt her at just the right angle.

And then he was sliding in, the liquid heat of her almost scorching. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his hand on the pillow and pushed, slow and easy.

“Next time,” he choked out, “I get to go fast.”

Gripping his biceps, Ria drew in a deep breath. “So long as you don’t get any bigger . . .