Laurann Dohner - Brawn

“Perhaps you should go to bed and sleep. I’ve heard a saying that things always look better in the morning.”

“It’s early.” She patted the barstool next to her. “Come over here. I won’t bite.”

“Aren’t you afraid I will?” He couldn’t resist opening his mouth and showing her his canines, curious why she didn’t seem to fear him. Human women always did.

“Nope.” She patted the barstool again. “Come closer.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re kind of blurry.” She giggled. “I don’t drink often but when I do, wow boy, do I do it right.”

He’d never heard that phrasing before and approached her cautiously. It was a bad idea, he should go to his room, but worry kept him there. She needed someone to look out for her. Her mate wasn’t around anymore to do it and her father wasn’t living inside her home. It was up to him to make certain she didn’t have any misadventures in her defenseless state.

He sat on the barstool, too close to her in his estimation—and hoped she didn’t throw up the way he’d seen women do in movies. “I don’t understand why you would purposely do this to your body.”

“You mean the calories?” She glanced down. “I could lose some weight. I sit on my butt too much at work but it’s not as though I have to impress anyone anymore.”

“Calories?”

“You know, because I’m a little overweight.”

He studied her body. “You’re very small. You can’t weigh much.”

“I’m a hundred-and-sixty pounds.” She laughed then clasped a hand over her mouth and giggled before lowering it. “I usually lie.” She leaned closer to him. “I say I weigh twenty pounds less than I really do.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Lie?” She reached out and pressed her palm to his chest. “It’s what women do. We lie about our weight, our age and our sexual history.”

Confusion gripped him again and he tried to ignore the warmth of her hand soaking through the thin cotton of his shirt. “Why would you do that?”

“You want to know about humans? They lie. We’re sneaky bastards or bitches sometimes. If our mouths are moving, well, expect some bullshit. It’s just human nature. In my case, I hate admitting that I’ve only slept with two men. It sounds pathetic and I lie about my age because I’m coming up on the big three-o. Thirty. That’s a bad thing to women. As for the weight, we wear stuff, trying to hide the flab.”

“Flab?”

“You know, those extra little unsightly bulges.”

He glanced down her body, paused on her breasts and frowned. His gaze lifted. “There is nothing unsightly about you.”

Her free hand reached for his and he allowed her to move it to her side. She pressed it against her waist. “Squeeze.”

He gently did as she bid, amazed at how soft she felt through her clothes and the give in her skin. She smiled at him.

“Feel that? Love handles. I’ve got them.”

He opened his hand and released her. “You feel nice.”

“It doesn’t look so hot.” She patted his chest. “You’re so nice. I hope the guys on my dad’s team don’t rub off on you. Men can be real lying jerks but you’re different.”

“I’m honest.”

Her eyes narrowed and she licked her lips—her pink tongue darted out to wet the lower one and her hand slid a little lower to press over his heart. “Stay that way.”

“I don’t like deceit.”

“Me neither.” She inhaled deeply, leaned back, removed her hand and faced the bar. “But it’s necessary.”

“I don’t understand. You have secrets you need to protect?”

She wrapped her hand around the glass, lifted it and took a sip. A grimace twisted her features and she put it down. “The burn is gone but it tastes like shit.”

He inhaled, the vile smell of alcohol there, but nothing to indicate it would taste of excrement. “Don’t drink it.”

“It helps.” She stared at the bar. “Sometimes I want to forget stuff and when I’m hurting it helps numb me.”

Worry gripped him. “You need medical attention?” He sniffed again, leaned a little closer and tried to get an in-depth take on her scent. She smelled of strawberries, oatmeal and laundry detergent but he didn’t pick up any trace of illness.

She turned her head and smiled. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have the chemical smell of humans who take medications. It sweats out of the pores. You’re ill?”

“No. I just had horrible taste in men and my father drives me nuts. I think my grandfather left me the guesthouse because he knew I’d never talk to my dad otherwise. We don’t get along.”

“Is having a parent challenging?”

She released her drink and turned to face him. “You have no idea! He drives me nuts.” She put her hand on his thigh near his knee and he glanced down to see it curved over his jeans. “He’s such a dick sometimes, so controlling and judgmental. I always had to be perfect or he lectured me about it. He’s not, but I’m supposed to be.”

His gaze lifted. “Are humans always so into touching people when they talk?”

She looked down, laughed and squeezed his leg. “Sorry.” She lifted her hand and peered up at his face. “Your eyes are really amazing. Did I tell you that? I think they are so beautiful. Can you see colors and everything?”

“Yes. My vision is perfect.”

“My dad thinks you’re mixed with a lion or a panther. Do you have a tail?”

It shocked him that she’d ask. His lips parted but nothing came out.

“It’s okay if you have one. I’d still think you were hot.”

“My skin is warmer than yours naturally but I don’t have a tail.”

That set her off into giggles. He liked the sound and the way dimples appeared in her cheeks. She licked her lips again. “You are so funny. Do you dance?”

“Yes.”

“I bet you do.” She openly stared at his chest, taking him in, and sighed. “Off-limits. It figures. I’ve got really shitty luck. Did I mention that?”

“Would you like to dance?” The alcohol had affected her logic since she wasn’t making much sense. “You asked if I can and I enjoy it.”

“I don’t have any dollar bills.” That set her off into a fit of laughter and she nearly slid off her barstool.

He reached out and gently wrapped a hand around her waist to make certain she didn’t lose her balance. “Dance with me.” He stood and gently eased her to her feet. She swayed on unsteady, bare feet, her shoes on the floor under her barstool, which he hadn’t noticed until that second. “The slow motion might lure you to sleep. I won’t allow you to fall.”

“You want me to go to sleep?” She leaned in to him, her body lax against his and she felt small in his arms. “That figures too. Most guys would want to strip a woman and fuck her blind if she were blitzed.”

“You’re inebriated and not logical. I would never engage in shared sex with you.”

“Damn shame,” she muttered and turned her head, resting it against his chest. She gripped his biceps. “Show me what you’ve got, hot stuff.”

He ignored the fast beat of the rock song and adjusted his hold to make sure she wouldn’t fall if she passed out. He moved his body just enough to keep her swaying on her feet.

“You smell really good.” Her fingers brushed his skin. “And you’re really big.”

“Thank you. I’m not a danger to you.”

She snuggled closer and as he looked down, he noticed her eyes closed as they danced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her fingernails raked his outer arms and he bit back a growl as his cock stiffened even more at the light caresses. It was a really bad idea to share a house, especially with a woman who drank alcohol and admitted to being deceptive.