Free How Cat Got a Life by Tatiana March

and volatile, ripping right through him. It felt as if his very soul soared away and then slowly gathered back into his body with the steady pulse that rocked his shoulders against the end of the tub.
    “Are you on birth control?” he asked when she pulled away.
    “Un-uh.” She made the sound without opening her mouth.
    “Don’t spit in the water,” he told her as sanity returned. “The little buggers are good swimmers.”
    Brock watched as she reached for a handful of tissues and dealt with his sperm. His hands clenched into fists as he realized he couldn’t fully take her, not tonight, not without protection. He cursed himself for not being prepared and almost laughed out loud at the thought. Prepared? How could a man be prepared for breaking his principles?
    “The water is cooling.” Cat sprawled on top on him again, not bashful in the least. Her head tipped back and she inspected him with sultry eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d enjoy it so much. I’ve always thought it’s something women do only because men demand it.”
    “That’s what I’ve always thought too.” He clasped his hands around her waist and levered her up, then hoisted her to her feet. “Let’s get you dry.”
    ****
    “You do remember that I’m not on birth control?” Cat stared at Brock as he carried her across the room and deposited her on top of the bed.
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll manage.”
    He had dried her with a mix of gentleness and efficiency, not pausing to linger on her curves. Apart from one single kiss on her belly as he knelt to rub the towel along her legs, he hadn’t caressed her. Disappointment ached inside her. He’d had his pleasure, and now he’d lost interest.
    Heat swirled around the room, drawing moisture back to her skin. She’d flipped the thermostat to maximum when they arrived, planning to turn it down again after a few minutes, but she’d forgotten.
    “Could you adjust the temperature?” she asked.
    “No.” He unraveled the fluffy white towel from around her. “I want it warm, so we don’t need to get under the covers.”
    He straightened and raked his gaze over her naked form, his eyes hot and unfathomable. Reaching down, he trailed his fingertips along her front. “How did your husband satisfy you, if he was impotent? What did he do to give you pleasure?”
    Her mouth went dry. “Why are you asking?”
    “Because I want to do every single thing to you that he did and more. I want to put my stamp on you. Wipe out any memory you have of anyone else ever touching you. I don’t care if it takes all night, or uses up every ounce of energy I have left. By the morning, you’ll belong to no one but me.”
    Heat pooled between her legs at his words and the predatory glint in his eyes.
    “There are no memories to wipe out,” she told him. “When I realized I’d been tricked into a marriage of convenience, I agreed to stay, provided that’s what we would have. A practical arrangement, nothing more. He never touched me, and anyone else was so long ago that I’ve already forgotten them.”
    Satisfaction flashed in his expression. His jaw tightened with determination, like a man facing a challenge—scale a mountain, traverse a desert, sail across an ocean. He climbed up on the bed and settled kneeling beside her.
    “Turn over,” he ordered, placing one hand at her hip.
    Cat rolled on her stomach and pressed her face to the shiny comforter. Every cell in her body tingled. When his lips brushed her neck, she cried out, startled. It was nothing but a fleeting contact, but the pleasure radiated all the way to her toes.
    Her breath began to pant as Brock explored her spine, vertebra by vertebra, until he reached the top of her buttocks. With his calloused hands, he cupped one side, then the other, gently squeezing. Too soon, he withdrew his touch, leaving her bereft.
    Then a fingertip drifted to the top of her cleft and hovered there before breaking the contact.
    “I’m thinking of