Realizing belatedly that her hands were free, Lila traced her claws over his bare shoulders, feather light. He rewarded her with a drawing pull of his lips, then his hands were shoving at her clothes again. She helped him tug the clinging fabric of her shirt over her head and discard her bra, and this time when she lifted her hips, he reared back to slide her skirt and panties down her legs, caressing every inch on the way to her feet. Then she was naked. Vulnerable—if ever a predatory cat can be vulnerable. And purring.
An answering sound rumbled from his chest as he looked down at her, sprawled out on the royal blue comforter on his bed. “Perfect,” he rasped, reaching for his zipper. He shoved his jeans and briefs down over his hips and Lila’s nerves returned in a rush at the sight of him, large and veined and thrusting up toward her, the tip a rosy purple. She didn’t know what to do, how to touch him, but she reached out and gently brushed her fingers up the side of his shaft, catching the first drop of moisture from the tip on her fingertip and bringing it to her mouth. Santiago’s pupils dilated and he growled, “Fuck, Lila,” low in his throat, reaching for her with hard hands, dragging her toward him and positioning her as he wanted, her hips at the edge of the bed.
He fitted himself to her, notching the heavy head inside her and Lila gasped, fighting the urge to squirm against the intrusion. He hissed in a curse and dropped his forehead down to rest against hers, whispering a string of barely sensible phrases, not all of them in English, praising the tight clasp of her body, urging her to open for him, all the while rocking his hips to push in deeper. Too much. Lila stiffened, the pleasure-pain shifting into pure pain. She wanted to love it so badly, wanted it to be as good as all the books she’d read and the fire in her blood had promised, but the pain stirred her doubt and she stiffened, a soft, uncertain sound escaping her throat. Santiago reached between them, still whispering his smoky encouragement, and found her clit, rolling it beneath his thumb in a tight circle that unknotted every muscle in her body and wound it tight with a new kind of tension. A building, eager ache, twisting toward something, striving and pushing. He thrust deeper and Lila moaned, pushing up to meet him, his thickness stretching her, filling her until she could feel him in places she hadn’t known she had.
He rolled his thumb faster and her cries changed in pitch, high and desperate. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured against her ear, his teeth catching the lobe. “Just a little more.”
How could she take more? As his thumb worked her clit, his other hand splayed over her hip, holding her steady as he pushed into her with little pulses. He grabbed her knee, pressing it toward her shoulder, and with the angle he hit something inside her and her tension catapulted to a new level, the last of her reservations swamped by a tide of pure, blinding sensation. Lila cried out, breathless, panting his name.
He sank his teeth into her shoulder, his free hand linking with hers as he released the pressure on her clit with the other, flicked it lightly, then rolled it hard and pleasure slammed into her, rolled her under, shuddering through her limbs and melting her bones.
He hilted with her orgasm, pushing into her with short, deep pulses, then withdrawing all the way and driving deep. Before she could catch her breath, she was climbing again, punctuating the end of each sharp, fast thrust with a little cry and sobbing with the force of a second release hard on the heels of the first.
Santiago growled and lifted her off the bed, still deep inside her as he spun and pinned her against the wall, pounding into her, his claws digging into the plaster as rough, inhuman sounds ripped from his throat. She clung, wrapping her legs tight around him as he groaned, driving hard one last time and holding as his body shuddered and he spilled into her.
Dazed, Lila trembled with aftershocks, closing her eyes and trying to memorize this moment. The heat of him. The sweat. The fullness and the ache. His arms coming tenderly around her. His lips brushing her ear, whispering soft words in a language she didn’t speak but somehow understood. The way his voice wrapped around the vowels of her name. The gentle brush of his hand, pushing her hair back from her face. His low, groaning chuckle as he peeled them both off the wall and slid free of her body, sweeping her up into the cradle of his arms and carrying her to the bed to curl his body around hers.
She didn’t want to forget a moment of this. Because she could never have it again.
Chapter Nine
Santiago lolled on his bed, feeling like the king of the universe. The water was running in the bathroom. His woman was in the shower. His woman. He should go in there and join her, but it was too soon to take her again. She’d be sore. He hadn’t missed the fact that she was a virgin.
He knew it made him a Neanderthal, but part of him loved that he’d been the first. That she was only his, and always would be. His lioness. His Lila.
Perhaps they wouldn’t go as far as Seattle. Just far enough to shake her free of the pride’s obligations, to show her that the world wouldn’t crumble if she didn’t marry Roman. Over to Billings, maybe. Or up into Canada. There was a wolf pack just north of the border Lila might be interested to meet.
The water shut off and he came to his feet, eager to see her again, even if they’d only been apart fifteen minutes. He pulled on his jeans to remind himself not to touch her and crossed to tap on the bathroom door she’d left cracked open. It swung back to reveal her standing in front of the vanity, wearing only a towel.
She met his eyes in the reflection and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
He hadn’t been as gentle as he would have liked. He hadn’t been gentle at all, but Lila had seemed to be with him all the way. He hoped she wasn’t regretting it now.
Her smile turned wistful. “Right now I’m so good I wonder how I’m ever going to leave.”
“So stay. We can pick up anything you might need on the road.”
The smile fell away from her face. “The road?”
“I thought you might be interested in seeing Canada. There’s a wolf pack—”
“Santiago. I can’t.”
He came up behind her, looping his arms around her waist, the terrycloth rubbing against his skin. “We wouldn’t be gone long—just enough time to get some separation from the pride. If we stay here, it’ll be that much harder to make a clean break, but if that’s what you want, I’ll stay with you.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” She turned in his arms. “I can’t go. Nothing has changed.”
Dread began to seep in around the edges of his perfect contentment. His hands curled into fists, the cat rising to press against his skin. “Everything has changed. You’re mine and I’m yours. You said—”
“I know. And I’ll always be yours. Nothing can take that away from us. But this can’t happen again. I’m sorry, but I have to go back. I have to do my duty for the pride.”
“You can’t be serious.” Anger throbbed, blinding and hot, with every beat of his heart. “What the fuck do I have to do?”
“Nothing. Santiago—” She tried to put her arms around him, but he shoved away, stalking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
The jaguar clawed and snarled beneath his skin, itching to get out, but he shoved it down. He paced to the bed and back as Lila hovered in the bathroom doorway, watching him warily. “Do you want me to challenge Roman for you? Is that it?” he growled.
“No! No, you can’t. You have to promise me you won’t.”
“Because it might destabilize the pride? Because every goddamn thing we do has to be about the fucking pride?”