He looks up at me, eyes crinkled, lip quirked. He grasps the sides of it. The veins in his neck bulge. His face hardens into a grimace. He lifts it, heaves it over a yard, and drops it onto the end of my leash with a thud that shakes the ground.
I shoot up, tugging at it. Trapped. “What the hell?”
He looks up at me. And he smiles.
Smiles.
And I forget to breathe. His smile lights his features, softens everything. Something flops in my belly.
“What the hell,” I say, pulling on my rope. He’s laughing.
I should be mad, but I’m having…fun. It’s the weirdest realization. When was the last time I had fun? Maybe before the kitten. Fuck, I forgot about the kitten.
I forgot about the kitten?
I yank on my rope. “This is so crazy.”
“I can’t let you run off. It’s too dangerous.”
“Don’t you see how ridiculous this is?”
“You’re my mate. I care for you. You don’t like it now, but you will.”
“I very much doubt that.”
He brings me closer. “Do you? Do you really doubt that?”
“Really,” I say, belly melting.Fucking caveman,I tell myself.Not into cavemen.
Softly, gently, he takes hold of my hair. He pulls down, as if he wants my throat fully exposed. I shiver as he presses rough lips to my tender neck. The entire surface of my body lights up with nerve endings, fanned by the brush of his lips, up, up toward the edge of my jaw.
Heat simmers in my belly.
Not…into…cavemen.
I tell myself it’s the crisp outdoor air. The exercise. The fact I forgot about the kitten.
He slides his lips over my pulse point and up, then whispers all rumbly into my ear, “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to catch a nice fat fish for us down there.”
“How?”
“With my hands.”
“What are you? A bear? You can’t catch a fish with your hands.”
“I can, Ann. Then I’ll make a fire.”
“By rubbing sticks together again?” I ask inanely. Because the rumble of his voice is doing something to my mind.
He lets my hair go. “I’ll use the lighter.” His tone is a dirty promise. “But if we didn’t have that, I’d rub sticks together. I’m home now. This place is mine. Everything here is mine.”
I swallow.
“Then I’ll cook it. It’ll be delicious and juicy, and you’ll eat it.”
“O-kay,” I say sarcastically.
A glint appears in eyes. I’m paranoid that he’s smelling my arousal right on my skin, like it’s misting out of my pores.