Panther's Promise: BBW Panther Shifter Paranormal Romance Read online

  And his fingers were wonderful, but they weren’t what she really wanted.

  She surged against him, pulling his face down to hers. “I want you inside me,” she demanded, and the answering glint in his eyes made her whole body thrill. She clenched around his fingers—she was so close, so close…

  Grant’s fingers slid out of her, and she gasped at the loss. Then he was looking down at her, concern in his vivid green eyes.

  “You said—” he began, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

  “I want you. Now. Please,” she gasped. “There—you’ve made me beg, now, please, Grant, I—”

  He moved above her, his broad chest brushing against her breasts, his hard abs sliding over the curve of her stomach. She opened her legs to him, more than ready. Desperately ready.

  Grant’s eyes burnt into hers. She could feel his need. She could feel him, long and thick and hard between her legs, as ready for her as she was for him.

  He slid his hand from behind her head and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. His eyes glittered.

  “You tease,” Irina gasped, and caught his thumb between her teeth. “You—oh!”

  Her words shuddered into a moan of white hot pleasure as Grant’s cock found her entrance and he thrust forward. He buried himself inside her, and she bit down, lost in sensation as her body adjusted to his size.

  Oh, God, she thought, too breathless to speak out loud. He was huge. She hadn’t looked, not really—just seen the bulge in his pants, and felt him press against her through his clothes. She’d imagined he must be big, but this—she felt pinned to the bed. Anchored. Overwhelmed.

  Wonderfully, gloriously overwhelmed.

  Above her, Grant grunted slightly, and Irina realized she was still biting down on his thumb. Hard. She murmured something that she hoped sounded like an apology because she was pretty sure her tongue wasn’t up to forming actual words. Not right now.

  She gently kissed the pad of his thumb. And licked it. And heard Grant groan, this time, a low, heart-felt sound of pure longing he let go just as she felt him move inside her, pulling back and then thrusting back in. Every nerve in her body sang as she felt every inch of him, pushing deeper, faster, harder.

  Irina wrapped her legs even more tightly around him, feeling the muscles of his waist flex under her thighs. Her body was sending her urgent signals, her desperate need reaching a breaking point. Gasping, she tilted her pelvis, and Grant’s next thrust hit her g-spot so hard and fast she saw stars. Her orgasm tore through her like lightning, white-hot bursts of pleasure that flooded her entirely, body and mind, and left her trembling.

  She opened her eyes and focused on Grant’s face above her. There was a strange look of wonder in his eyes, but it only lasted for a moment before he buried his face in her shoulder. He came with a groan so deep she could feel it in her bones, and as he subsided inside her, she let her own eyes fall closed again.

  Grant’s weight pressed down on her, hot and sweaty and indescribably wonderful. Covered by him, his cock still pressed deep inside her, she felt entirely content. Safe, and happy, and as though she was exactly where she should be.

  “Sorry about your thumb,” she murmured lazily. Grant chuckled and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

  “I think I’ll live,” he reassured her.

  She kissed it, just to be sure, and didn’t complain when Grant rolled over, his other arm wrapped around her so she rolled on top of him. She remembered, so vaguely it was like a half-forgotten bad dream, that she used to feel self-conscious about lying on top of her ex-boyfriends, worried that her extra height and weight would be too obvious in this position. But with Grant she wasn’t worried at all.

  Besides, given how he hauled you all the way up here, he can take it, she reasoned muzzily.

  Lying on top of Grant was… mmm. So good it was taking away her words again. And he was still inside her. Still filling her, but without the same barely restrained urgency as before.

  Without the same urgency… for now.

  Irina wriggled, and her afterglow of arousal kindled new sparks. She looked down at her lover, letting her hair fall in curling waves around his face.

  “Hmmm,” she said, drawing the sound out and lowering her face until she was almost nose-to-nose with Grant. “I think that almost makes up for stealing my drink.”

  “Almost?” Grant’s smile made her heart flip over, but she just managed to keep her cool.

  “Almost.” Irina bit her lip, not trusting herself to say anything more without breaking into giggles.

  Luckily, Grant was suave enough for both of them. He caught her face between his hands and kissed her passionately, his tongue teasing against her lips.

  “I am so very sorry,” he murmured against her lips, and then whispered into her ear: “Shall I try again?”

  8

  GRANT

  Grant stretched luxuriously in his bed, enjoying the smooth feel of the linen sheets against his skin, the mountainous tangle of pillows and comforters—and the warmth. Mmm, yes, the warmth.

  The warmth of not being the only person in the bed. Of sleeping alongside a beautiful woman, after a night of incredible love-making. He’d never felt this way with any of his previous girlfriends. It just felt so… right. As though he’d been waiting for it for—oh, for so long. His entire life. And now that he’d found her, it was the most amazing feeling in the world.

  Irina made a soft mew of protest as he bundled her into his arms. Her hair was a wild mass of curls spread out across the pillows. He gently brushed a stray curl away from her face, and one chocolate-brown eye cracked open for a moment.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured.

  “Mmmph,” she replied, and wriggled deeper under the duvet until nothing showed except her hair. Grant rolled on top of her, holding his weight on his elbows, and began to unwrap her. First, an ear appeared, and he bent down to gently nibble on it, feeling her squirm under him. Then her cheek—a kiss this time. Then his hands wandered lower, sneaking under the edges of the duvet to find the luscious, smooth curves of her breasts and belly.

  Small, warm hands batted his away. “Nooo,” Irina wailed softly. “‘m ‘sleep.”

  Grant leaned back on his haunches. Oh, he wanted to touch her, more than anything, wanted to wake her up with teasing strokes and kisses—but all cats knew better than to disturb another person’s slumber.

  Perhaps, though, there was one way he could tempt her out of bed…

  Grant pulled on a pair of silk boxers and prowled into the kitchen. His panther was as sleepy as Irina, satiated and content, but even it perked up as he surveyed the contents of the fridge and pantry. Cooking breakfast might not be hunting exactly, but it still meant bringing food to his Irina.

  The thought sent warmth flooding through his whole body.

  My Irina. Mine. In my bed, in my home, in my life…

  He plucked eggs and prosciutto from the fridge before he let his eyes linger over a selection of fresh herbs. He scooped all of it up and, half-distracted, carried it all over to the kitchen island.

  Everything had happened so quickly, he had barely had the chance to think. Last night had been all instinct, giddy and joyful, driven by a single-minded, hot-blooded need to—to…

  To claim our mate, his panther purred, and Grant’s blood ran cold.

  No. It can’t be that. Not now. Not with her.

  He stepped back from the kitchen counter, his mind racing. He’d been attracted to Irina immediately, sure, but it wasn’t just physical attraction he felt. He wanted to see her laugh, wanted to feed her and protect her and shower her with gifts. They had clicked, person to person.

  It couldn’t just be because of his panther. It couldn’t.

  He returned to the counter, chopping herbs almost frantically as his mind raced. He knew it had to happen eventually. His panther would find its mate and do its best to claim her. Grant had always promised himself he would be vigilant, ensuring he k
ept control so he didn’t pull an unwary woman into that trap.

  He hadn’t considered the possibility that he would walk straight into it himself.

  Irina. My mate. I am so, so sorry.

  Grant swiped the chopped herbs into a bowl, broke in the eggs, and attacked them with a whisk.

  What was he going to do now? He had to tell her—no, he couldn’t. How could he live with himself, knowing he’d done that to her?

  Oh, hell.

  The full seriousness of what he had done washed over him in an icy wave.

  This is what happens when you stop paying attention. When you lose control, and break the most important promise you ever made.

  He should never have brought Irina home with him. What was he thinking? He should have run the moment he saw her, and instead he’d led them both straight into a trap.

  Grant closed his eyes. Irina’s face appeared before him, her eyes filled with tears, the way he had first seen her. She’d looked so lost and alone, and he’d moved on pure instinct to protect her.

  No force in the world could have prevented him. Not even his own self-control.

  Grant took a steadying breath and opened his eyes. Nothing in the world could have stopped him from protecting Irina last night, and nothing would stop him now. Except now, he had to protect her from himself.

  From his panther.

  Grant sighed and lit the stove. His hands moved automatically to cook breakfast as his mind tried to find a way through the maze in front of him.

  Butter melted in the bottom of the pan. Grant scowled at it and then added another pat. I should have thought about this months ago. I should have had a plan. Why did I waste so much time with Lance figuring out bullshit like PR and travel instead of the important things?

  He slowly drizzled the egg mixture into the pan, whisking as he went. He knew why he had avoided talking to Lance about this. He just had to admit it to himself.

  He’d been afraid. He was still afraid. Secretly, Grant had hoped that he wouldn’t be the first of his friends to find a mate. That Mathis, or Harley, or Moss, or hell, even Frankie, would find their beloveds first—and provide him with a good example of how a shifter male was meant to behave in that situation.

  Because God knew he had no other good examples.

  A quiet shuffling noise behind him pulled Grant out of his unhappy thoughts. Inside him, his panther began to purr.

  Stop that.

  “Good morning,” he called out, looking over his shoulder. His stomach was twisting at how fast and strongly his panther had reacted, and he made sure he was smiling, so his discomfort wouldn’t show on his face.

  Irina was leaning against the doorframe, still wrapped in the comforter. Grant’s heart thudded in his chest at the sight of her. She was so beautiful, with her rumpled hair spread over her shoulders and her feet peeking out of the bottom of the blanket.

  Irina screwed up her face adorably and said:

  “Mmmph?”

  Grant’s forced smile melted into a genuine grin. “The bathroom’s back down the hall. First on your left.”

  “Mmmph.”

  That last one was probably a “thank you”, Grant decided, watching Irina as she shuffled away again. His heart ached. If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t be thanking him.

  A few moments later, the sound of the shower turning on reached his ears, and he had to take a moment to get his thoughts back in line. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He couldn’t think about the thick comforter falling to the bathroom floor, revealing Irina’s soft, creamy skin. The marble tiles would be cool under her feet—cool enough to make goosebumps race across her skin? Or to make her nipples pebble, the soft, pale pink darkening as they formed pale peaks. Her long, curly hair falling down over her shoulders, smelling of… burning…

  “Oh, damn it!” Grant cursed, snatching the pan off the heat. It was too late. His scrambled herby eggs were starting to smoke.

  Hissing unhappily, he turned on the exhaust fan and dumped the burned mess out into the garbage.

  What the hell are you doing? he berated himself, and sighed. The pan was still sizzling slightly, and one glare at the stovetop told him he’d had the heat on far too high. And for too long. He reduced the flame and launched the pan at the sink, where it landed with a clang.

  Grant cast a guilty look over his shoulder towards the closed door of the bathroom. There was no change to the steady rush of running water, so he could assume she hadn’t heard. Or was still half-asleep enough not to notice the noise.

  Irina, standing under the showerhead, hot water spraying down on her. He imagined her leaning back under the stream of water, eyes closed, water running in rivulets down her shoulders and between her breasts…

  Grant groaned and knuckled his forehead. Focus! This was where things had gone wrong last night. He couldn’t afford to lose his head again. He had to find a way out of this that wouldn’t leave Irina hurt.

  He needed to be human. And right now, he told himself firmly, that meant breakfast.

  He opened the fridge again, letting the cool air wash over his bare skin. More eggs—right. And yogurt, sliced fruit—bread from the pantry…

  He moved quickly, one ear pricked for noises from the bathroom. Fresh pan. Fresh whisk. Grant made a mental note to thank his housekeeper for keeping the kitchen well stocked, with utensils as well as food.

  This time he managed to keep his focus. The fluffy scrambled eggs came off the heat perfectly golden and light, accompanied by thick slices of toasted sourdough and with slices of prosciutto to the side. Small serving bowls for the fruit salad and yogurt.

  He debated briefly over whether to drizzle honey over the fruit salad but settled for placing it to the side. The mixed melons, dragon fruit and lychee were all perfectly ripe, despite being out of season on this side of the planet, so maybe Irina wouldn’t think they needed extra sweetening.

  Everything had to be perfect. What had he forgotten?

  Coffee.

  He had just finished blasting the beans through the grinder when the bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of scented steam and a fresh-faced but tousled Irina. She was wrapped in his plush cotton dressing gown, almost as swamped within its folds as she had been by the comforter.

  “Good morning,” she said quietly, her lips curving into a shy smile. “Which is, honest, what I meant to say earlier, but…”

  “...You’re not very good at mornings?” Grant completed her sentence for her and gestured to the food arrayed on the island behind him. His voice trembled, just slightly, as he said, “Breakfast? We can eat here, or at the table, or…” He stopped himself just in time. Back in bed? No. Bad idea.

  Irina groaned and closed her eyes. Grant bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for her to answer.

  “Too many options. Here is fine.” She padded forward on bare feet, just brushing past Grant. Before he knew what he was doing he reached out to her as she passed, slipping one hand under her damp hair and pushing it aside to lay a kiss on her neck. She hummed happily, almost a giggle, as the hairs on the back of Grant’s neck rose.

  Was that me, or my panther? How could I tell?

  He took a careful step backwards. “Coffee?”

  “Oh, God, yes. Please.”

  Grant pulled across a barstool for Irina. “I hope filter is okay.”

  “Perfect. Anything is fine. Dump the grinds straight in my mouth.” She sat on the stool and leaned forward, elbows on the granite countertop. Grant could have looked at her forever, but forced himself to turn away. He filled the French press without spilling hot water on himself, somehow, and slid onto the stool beside her.

  “This all looks amazing,” Irina said, her eyes sweeping over the food—and then lingering on him. “You made all this just now? And I thought I was doing well figuring out how to turn the shower on.”

  “I’m sorry. I—shouldn’t have woken you up so early.” Grant winced, then passed her a plate of eggs and toast and pushed the fruit s
alad a little closer. And the honey. He waited until she took a bite, eyes closed, before picking up his own knife and fork.

  “This is amazing.” Irina moaned in pleasure, and took another bite of eggs. “More than worth getting up at the early hour of…” She looked around the room for a clock. “Oh, hell, eleven o’clock? That’s late even for me. But I, er, I guess I was up late…”

  Despite himself, Grant caught her eye and remembered exactly what had kept them both up into the early hours of the morning. From the way her cheeks went red, she was remembering it, too.

  But what are you remembering? Your own desire, or your panther’s?

  Irina chewed slowly, a line forming between her eyebrows, and Grant felt a tremor of unease. She swallowed and put down her knife and fork.

  “Grant…”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He could see her shoulders tighten. “I just—oh, hell.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Last night was amazing, and this is wonderful, but I want to be sure. I know I don’t pick up on signals very easily when I’ve just woken up.” She looked away, bit her lip, and looked back at him. “You didn’t… expect me to disappear early, did you? I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with one-night stands, you know.”

  Grant’s panther jumped to its feet inside him, panicked. “Is that what you think this is?” he blurted out, and then covered his eyes with his hands. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  Irina was still watching him. “How should it have come out?” she asked cautiously.

  Grant took a deep breath. This is it. Your one chance to put things right.

  Wouldn’t it be kinder to break it off now? To save you both heartache later on?

  One look at Irina’s anxious face, and he knew he couldn’t. There must be a way to fix this, he reasoned with himself. To have everything work out, despite the mate bond.

  He reached out and took her hand. “For a start, this isn’t a one-night stand. At least, I don’t want it to be.”

  And that’s not even the half of it, he added silently, looking deep into her eyes. I want to be with you forever. I want every morning to start like this, with you tousled and sleep-befuddled, and me tempting you out of bed with breakfast. And I want every day to end with me tempting you back into that bed.