Her good humor vanished when she saw him dodging Manson’s batting claw when he crawled out from under the couch in a sneak attack.
“Are you afraid of my cat?” she taunted.
“That cat makes some of the felons I served time with look like angels.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
Manson hunkered down into stealth mode, his eyes turning into gleaming slits. When his tail started waving furiously as his ass went up, she almost felt sorry for Calder.
“Crazy Bitch!” Calder’s voice sank to a whisper when Manson’s tail moved even faster. “Why’s he staring at me like that?”
“I should have warned you. Next time, feed him first. He gets a little irate when he gets hungry.”
“What do you feed him?”
“Bikers who are stupid enough to wear shorts around him.”
12
Having a black cat stare at you malevolently as you undressed was unnerving. Calder debated opening the front door and letting it escape. If he didn’t think he would have to spend the rest of the night searching for it if Crazy Bitch discovered it missing, he would.
The cat jumped onto the bed and plopped down on his pillow, showing his gums in a feline yawn.
Not intending to move the cat or place his cheek where the cat’s ass was resting, he went to the door, intending to sleep on the couch.
The living room was dark, but the light from the bathroom shone, making it possible to see.
He silently walked to the couch and was picking up one of the pillows when he saw a movement at the window. Crazy Bitch was standing to the side, peeking out the window from the side of the curtain.
“Something wrong?”
She jumped, spinning at the sound of his voice and dropping the curtain.
“No. I thought I heard my neighbors arguing.”
“They do that a lot?”
“Not often.”
“You want me to go outside and check?” He took a step toward the door.
“No! They must have gone back inside.”
Calder was a recovering addict, so he was an expert at lying and when someone was lying to him. Crazy Bitch was lying through her teeth. She wasn’t meeting his eyes, jerkily moving away to the refrigerator to get herself a bottled water.
His balls tightened when she walked toward her bedroom, using a damp towel to dry her hair, her pale blue silk shorts showing the curves of her ass.
“You have an extra pillow? Manson is being a bitch and not sharing.”
“Huh? Sure, I’ll get it.”
Calder followed her into the bedroom, her preoccupation with what was going on outside sending a tendril of unease down his back.
She sat the water down on her nightstand then went to her closet to reach up for a pillow on the shelf.
“Sweet Jesus,” Calder groaned.
“What?” Startled, she jumped, knocking down the pillow she had been reaching for.
“What has you so afraid?”
“What in the fuck do I have to be afraid of with you here?”
He took her arm, preventing her from bending down for the pillow.
Jerking out of his reach, she started to push past him.
“You tell me. But something has you frightened.”
“I’m tired and I’m going to bed. Get the pillow and get out.”
Calder grabbed the ends of the towel that was hanging casually over her shoulders, holding her place. The scalloped lace that bordered her blue satin camisole top rose and fell with her ragged breathing.
“Tell me what’s up, Anna-Kate.”
With her fisted hands, she hit him on his bare chest. “The only thing that is up is your dick. And stop calling me that sissy name!”
Calder twined the towel around his wrists, tugging her closer. “Why? I think it’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
She locked her arms, preventing him from pulling her closer. Then she rolled her eyes as she gave a mocking laugh. “I’m too tired tonight to listen to another one of your lame pickup lines.”
“I’m not trying to seduce you. I’m being serious.”
Calder caught the brief flicker of decision in her eyes before she lowered her lashes, concealing her expression.
“Something has you spooked tonight, and I want to know what it is.”
Her lips mutinously curled into a provocative smile as she went up on her tiptoes to press her lips on his. His cock hardened at the feel of her soft belly against it.
“Crazy Bitch… don’t start what you’re not wanting to finish.”
He felt the subtle touch of her tongue as she parted his lips and then slid inside. He had dreamed of her when he was in prison, wondering how she would taste. Would she taste like tart cherries, or have the heat of cinnamon? When he opened his mouth wider, Calder discovered it was neither. She tasted like sweet strawberries.
Using the towel, he tilted her head so he could take control.
The smell of her freshly washed hair couldn’t disguise the faint odor of fear she was putting out. The woman was using his lust to keep from admitting she was afraid of someone or something.