The Purrfect Man By Mary Winter
Pink Petal Books Presents Shifters
Release Date: October 2, 2008
Genre: erotic paranormal romance shape shifter
Cover Art by Celia Kyle
For Dante, his nine lives were running out.
Cursed into the form of a tom cat by a scorned lover, Dante has nine lives to get a woman to love him in order to break free of his spell. When he sees Althea, he knows she's the one. There's just one problem - she's allergic to cats!
Althea starts dreaming of a handsome man who caters to her every fantasy. Their dreamtime interludes become increasingly hotter. And she wishes that she could meet him in the flesh. Wishes he were weaving his way into her heart, instead of the stray feline who has taken up residence in her yard.
But when the cat is taken to the pound, Althea knows she has to act. Allergic or not, she won't let him be harmed. One act of compassion can make Althea's dreams a reality and show her that no matter what form he wears, Dante is her perfect man.
The masculine words sounded truly remorseful, and it took Althea a moment to realize she was dreaming. "It's okay," she automatically replied, though she knew not who this man was or why he apologized to her. In fact, she couldn't really see him. Instead, it seemed as if she still lay in bed, though the edges of the room seemed fuzzy. An effect of the sinus medication, she wondered, but she'd never had dreams like this before.
Gradually, her surroundings became visible. A man sat on the foot of her bed. Though he didn't move, she sensed an inherent lithe grace in his form.
"Wha--?" she asked, coming out of a medicine-induced fog. "Who are you?"
Tawny hair crowned his head and feathered over his shoulders. His brilliant blue eyes held warmth. A straight nose divided his face, leading to the fullest, most sensuous pair of lips she'd ever seen on a man. He wore no shirt, and the view of his chest nearly took Althea's breath away. Matching tawny hair dusted his pectorals, and then arrowed over a work-hardened set of abs and disappeared beneath the waistband of a gray pair of sweat pants. His feet were bare.
She blinked at the sweat pants. Until that modern piece of clothing, she expected him to be dressed in historical clothing. She didn't know why. She saw only his body; he hadn't even spoken yet. Still, something about his manner, the way he sat with his hands resting on his muscled thighs brought back images from a bygone era. She chalked it up to the timelessness of the dream state.
He moved closer, the efficiency in the way he inched toward her pillow reaffirming her belief that this was a man unlike any she'd met. After settling himself next to her hip, he trailed his fingers over her arm. The caress, so light, reminded her of the way she'd petted the cat on her porch.
"I'm Dante," he said. Reaching out, he brushed his thumb against her lips. "So beautiful. So warm." He bent over, replacing his thumb with his lips. Gently he kissed her, drawing her deeper into the dream, into him. His lips coaxed, nibbled, ate as daintily as a cat enjoying a tasty morsel. With his tongue, he traced her lower lip.
Althea parted her lips to allow him entrance. Dante's answering moan sent warm shivers darting through her body. She wrapped her arm around him, tangling her fingers in his silky soft hair. His hard body pressed against hers, and arousal drew her nipples into tight beads. She wanted to be devoured by him, to feel his lips on every inch of her flesh. Allergies forgotten, she clung to him and slid her other hand down over his muscled back to his buttocks. This was a dream, after all.
And thank goodness it was a dream. Her body hungered for the touch of flesh against flesh. Reaching for him, curling her fingers around his biceps, something awakened deep inside. She'd ignored the months of celibacy, hadn't really thought about them, but now, the need to make up for lost time drove her. She moaned as he deepened the kiss. Passion flared in her blood. She wanted him-her dream man. Now.
A quick tug pulled her shirt free of her jeans. His hand splayed across her abdomen. His touch branded her. He laid her back on the bed, tugging at her T-shirt. She released him long enough for him to pull it over her head. He unfastened her bra and slid it off her shoulders.
Althea reached for him once more. She wrapped her fingers around his hard biceps and pulled him to her.
Dante lowered his head and nibbled along her collarbone. He laved each kiss, each love bite, with a long sweep of his tongue that had her shuddering to her toes. The crisp whorls of his chest hair tickled her nipples and stomach.
She arched beneath him, her breasts begging for his touch. "Please," she whispered, unaware she voiced her plea.