Read Online Driving Force by Jo Andrews - Free Book Online

full stretch of her arm, reached out to touch the white tip of that tail. It was solid and palpable under her hand, soft fur over firm bone. Nope, no way she was dreaming this.
    The tail twitched away from her grip, then lashed, hitting her hand with a hard thump. Real, and the reaction the same as that of any cat whose tail is grabbed. Sierra backed away hastily.
    The leopard rippled and turned back into Ian. He was panting through his open mouth, his profile against the pillow gaunt and strained, the one eye she could see clenched tightly shut. Despite the painkillers Doc had given him, he was hurting. She moved warily around to stand beside the bed where she could see his face better, wishing she could do something for him.
    His eyelid shuddered and opened, then he turned his head a little on the pillow to stare up at her, frowning.
    “Mouse?” He was still not seeing clearly, she guessed.
    “Yes, I’m here.”
    He reached out abruptly and shoved her hard with his shackled hands. She staggered backward, then recovered her balance.
    “Get away!”
    “Ian…”
    “Not safe…” Then he saw the manacles on his wrists and made a little sound of relief. “Good.”
    He went under again, his body sagging. He had been worried about hurting her. Sierra drew a little shaky breath. He didn’t want to hurt her, wouldn’t hurt her. She moved back to the bed with more confidence and bent to lay the back of a hand against his forehead. He was burning up. Doc had forgotten to tell her what temperature would be too high, but surely he wasn’t supposed to be this hot.
    She fetched a basin of cool water and a sponge, swabbed his face tentatively. The deep crease between his brows eased. She was doing the right thing. She pulled a chair up beside the bed and began to swab him down, the sponge running in slow, soothing strokes over his skin. He sighed and turned to it as it moved over him.
    After a while she saw a ripple go through him. She jumped hastily to her feet and backed toward the door. Sure enough, he changed to cat. She was starting to recognize the small signs that the transformation was beginning. She now had that moment of early warning. She stayed in the doorway until he finally shifted back to human once more, then returned to the bedside and picked up the sponge again.
    She had never touched him before. For all their years of running battles, flinging insults and snarky comments back and forth—cat fights, she thought in amusement—they had never once laid a finger on each other. Now as she ran the sponge gently over him, she was intensely aware of that beautiful body under her hands. The smooth satin of his skin, the resilient swell of muscle, that totally lickable six-pack. Superb definition all over. Running around as cat must really keep one in shape.
    His head turned on the pillow. He sucked in a shuddering breath.
    “Thirsty,” he whispered.
    She hurried to fetch water. He drank greedily, then his eyelids flickered open and he squinted at her.
    “Mouse.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Doc…”
    “He had to go. But he’ll be back.”
    “Shouldn’t have…left you with…me,” he said between gasps for breath.
    “You won’t hurt me,” she said with confidence.
    “Cat…might.”
    “I back off when the cat comes.”
    “Too much…of a risk.”
    She laid a hand gently against his cheek. “I don’t think so.”
    He made a sound of pleasure and turned his face into her hand, his cheekbone pressing against her palm. “Cool. ’S nice.”
    He drifted off again. A sudden surge of tenderness welled up in her. Automatic protectiveness, she told herself. Just because he was helpless now and she was caring for him. Nothing more than that.
    The changes were starting to slow down. He didn’t change into cat again for over half an hour. She had time to wash him down and put the salve on his cuts and bruises. The moment she saw the ripple go through him, she backed away, but not as far as the door, just to an