To Hiss or to Kiss by Katya Armock Page A

the time.
    “It’s only ten, so you still made morning.” Jorge smiles, then shrugs a bit as he sets the plates down. “And I was restless.”
    “I thought cats liked to sleep a lot. Glad I made you feel comfortable.” Sarcasm laces my voice as butterflies flutter in my stomach. I resolutely set my tea down on the table and sink into the chair in front of my plate of food.
    Jorge touches my cheek. “The cat thing doesn’t apply to shape-shifters. But more importantly, you do make me comfortable. I just wanted to do this for you before you woke.”
    The sudden tenderness makes me melt. I could be a puddle on the floor, and I’m not sure how I’m still sitting upright. I feel my eyes get a bit watery and that makes me blush. So much for my tough fearlessness.
    Jorge’s voice turns slightly teasing, as if he knows I can’t handle the sentimentality of the moment very well. “Please tell me you aren’t going to cry. It will totally ruin my image of you as a warrior princess.”
    God, I really love this man.
    I feel my pulse race, and I don’t know if it’s acceptance or bald-faced fear. Maybe both. “Warrior princess?” I laugh, scoffing.
    “What? I have some awareness of pop culture. And who says you can’t be a princess?” He’s still touching my cheek, his thumb softly caressing.
    “Well, then, does that make you a prince or a manservant?” My voice deepens as the heat in my core rises.
    Jorge’s tone turns slightly more serious, slightly softer, as if to match the caress of his thumb. The intensity in his emerald eyes burns across my skin in the most pleasurable, and terrifying, of ways. “For you, whatever you want.”
    I try to hold his gaze, but the panic in me is threatening to burst through. Don’t screw this up, Chloe! Yet years of keeping almost everyone at bay is taking over control of my brain. I never met someone who tempted me out of my comfort zone of me, cats, and, on occasion, Naomi.
    I try desperately to bring back the bravado of last night, but suddenly this is very real and I don’t know what to do . Is it too early to ask for scotch? At that I dissolve into giggles. I can’t stop. I am laughing so hard, I start to cry.
    Jorge drops his hand. I glance up, but amazingly, he isn’t looking at me like I’m crazy. His eyes show amusement and something deeper. “You are a confusing woman.” He shakes his head at the echo of his words from that first night we met.
    “So I-I’ve been, uh, told.” I hiccup through my giggles.
    Suddenly Jorge leans forward, cupping my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. “I’m not giving you up.” He’s dead serious. It’s almost enough to sober me up, but I’m still hiccupping giggles. “Ever.” He holds me captive with his hands and his eyes until the giggles finally subside. I don’t know how long we are like this. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes, maybe hours.
    His eyes bore into mine, and I have never felt so possessed in all my life. I want to trust this man, this jaguar, my jaguar man. I try to tell him this with my eyes. Be patient with me , I plead. And maybe more important, don’t hurt me—again .
    He wins our staring contest.
     
    * * *
     
     
    “So, intel?” I say when I can no longer bear his stare. I feel like a coward, but it’s better than running out the door.
    Jorge must understand, because he drops his hands from my face. I irrationally miss their warmth even as I feel some relief at escaping the intimacy of the situation.
    “Yes, the intel.” His voice is flat as he rises to retrieve some papers from the living room. I watch him come and go out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to risk full eye contact.
    He’s all business as he walks back in and spreads some papers around, shoving his abandoned breakfast plate out of the way. He focuses on what appears to be a rough blueprint of the first floor of what I presume is the farmhouse down the street. “Cameras are located here, here, here, and here.”