Warriors of Poseidon 02.5 - Shifter's Lady

and…Sure…I‟ll tell her. Thanks!”
     
    Kat snapped her phone closed. “He offered to show you around Big Cypress and take you to dinner before I even asked. You must have made some impression on him.”
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    “I don‟t…Kat, I‟m not sure…Ethan and I—”
     
    Kat‟s eyes narrowed. “What did he say? Was he rude to you? I‟ll kick his ass for him, alpha or not, if he offended you. Ethan has this „all arrogant, all the time‟ thing going on, because everybody bows down before him, and he needs to get over it. It‟s nothing personal, though, if that matters.”
     
    Marie laughed a little wildly. Nothing personal? He wanted to lick her skin! It could not be more personal than that, could it?
     
    She needed to pull herself together. She was First Maiden to the Goddess of the Nereids, and she would not be thrown off balance by one…one…surly kitten.
     
    “On second thought, Kat, exploring and dinner with Ethan would be lovely. I‟ll just go change my clothes while you get ready for your meeting.” Marie rinsed her coffee mug in the sink, her thoughts already on what she would wear. So he liked her hair, did he?
    Had fantasies of it spread across his pillows? A slow, wicked smile spread across her face. Perhaps she‟d let him see exactly what he‟d been fantasizing about. As she walked down the hall to her room, her fingers were already busy undoing the dozens of intricate braids.

FIVE
    Ethan knocked on Kat‟s door a good thirty minutes earlier than he‟d planned to be there.
    So much for casual nonchalance. He‟d tried to do some work, but memories of his too-brief contact with Marie had insinuated themselves into his mind. Flashes of her skin, her hair, her ocean-colored eyes.
     
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    That smile that had knocked him on his ass, figuratively speaking. He planned to have the upper hand this evening, though. Be the perfect gentleman. Calm, cool, and completely unflappable.
     
    The door opened, and Marie stood there, smiling that perfect, kissable smile again. But he was prepared. He was unflappable. He glanced down, and the waves of her blue black hair and the dress she was almost wearing finally registered, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
     
    “Holy shit!” Okay. He was flappable. He was flapped. He was what-the-hell-ever, but no way was she going out in public like that.
     
    “Is that a common greeting among your people?” Marie asked, raising her chin and smiling. But underneath the smile was a hint of something else. Hurt, maybe.
    Nervousness.
     
    “Damn. I mean, no, that is not a common greeting. I‟m sorry, you just knocked me a little off balance,” he admitted. Then he stepped forward, forcing her to let him enter the cabin. He closed the door behind him and took another step toward her.
     
    The polite thing would have been to maintain a courteous distance.
    When she put that dress on, she should have known he‟d have no chance at polite.
     
    He deliberately dropped his gaze from her face and scanned her luscious curves in the silky dark blue dress. The neckline dropped low in some kind of draped fold, and the rest of it wrapped her waist and hugged her breasts and hips like it had been sewn around her body. The swing of the skirt caressed her legs just above her knees, and he wanted nothing more than to drop to his own knees before her, push the fall of fabric slowly up those silken thighs, and discover what exactly she was wearing underneath.
     
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    He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. “Did you wear that for me?” he said, almost not recognizing the raspy words as his own voice.
     
    The brave smile trembled on her lips, and she began to answer, then abruptly turned away from him and walked toward the kitchen. But the view from behind was just as sexy, and he had to shift his legs as he hardened painfully inside his pants. Waves of dark silken hair tumbled down over her shoulders and back, brushing against her rounded hips. The vision he‟d had earlier of her hair spread over his bed came back to him in full force, and he had to remind himself to breathe.
     
    She stopped on the other side of the table, as if using the furniture as a barricade between them. “It was simply a dress I brought to wear for dining,” she said. “Is it inappropriate?” She‟d uttered the