Hunted(13)

And gasped. They both did at what she found. Already he was hard for her. The grip on her shoulders became bruising a moment before he released her, mashed his hands in her hair, and held her.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, angry, hungry eyes scoring over her flushed face. “But I can’t wait to kiss you.”

His mouth came down and laid a claim on hers. A stake. Hard, wet, and hungry. He kissed her, groaning deep in the back of his throat, flooding her mouth with his wicked taste, with the promise of pleasure. Her hips naturally lifted against his to feel even more of him.

“Why would you ask me that question, little devil? If you’re thinking to try to tease me again, you have another thing coming.”

Then he attacked her neck with sensual kisses up to her the back of her ear. She wilted into him like a bouquet of dying flowers.

“I want to know. Because when I went home I touched myself, too. Thinking about you. Thinking about how I’d wanted you and all the things I wanted to do with you. About how I wanted to grab your—”

She never got to finish the statement, for Ryon growled like a rabid animal before hauling her body against his, lifting her feet clean off the floor, then slamming his mouth across hers. When her back hit the wall she didn’t think anything of it at all. It felt like the most perfect place to be. After all, it made it easier for Ryon’s hands to cup her breasts and stroke her hips. He drove her mad, her wetness already creaming her underwear.

“General,” she moaned as he bit down on the base of her neck. A dominant gesture.

“I’m going to claim you, Pen. I will. And after, I’m going to fuck your little quim and your mouth. All of you.”

His lips drifted across hers, soft and gentle, but they forced her mouth open to slide inside. He caressed a moan from her, and that’s how they were caught when her dressing room door swung open.

No one had locked the door

A startled woman’s voice interrupted. “Oh! Excuse me! I’m sorry. I had no clue.”

Horrified, Penelope pushed Ryon away only to pale at who’d caught them.

Tarina Mey stood there. Penelope respected few more than she did Tarina. Not only did she partly own Prima Donna’s, but she was one of the most moving ballet dancers Penelope had ever seen. Respect didn’t begin to cover how Penelope felt for Tarina. She certainly didn’t want her boss and friend to see her making kiss-kiss with a man in her dressing room. Inappropriate wouldn’t begin to touch the situation.

Tarina took in the two of them, and paused. “Sorry to…interrupt. Lansey’s called in sick and can’t perform the number to the adagio key. Could you come fill in?”

Pen was already nodding, and Ryon stepped back to give some much needed breathing room.

“I’d love to. I was just headed that way,” Penelope said. Her blush told an entirely different story.

Tarina saw it, but at least was kind enough not to say anything. “Great, I’ll see you in five. Curtain’s already up.” She turned and left, leaving Penelope alone once again with the man who loved to torture her dreams.

“I’m sorry. That’s my curtain call,” she told him, hearing the vamping music playing. “Looks like we’ll have to cut this evening a bit short.”

Ryon tried to grab her but she slapped his hand away. She didn’t know who she was angrier with—Ryon or herself. She was a professional. She’d never made out with a man in her dressing room—ever. She’d be lucky if rumors didn’t spread before nightfall. Just what she needed. More stress.

His mouth twisted. “Fine. Go. But this isn’t done with.”

Fine. Whatever, she thought.

The hallway that led to the stage felt longer than normal. Ryon might even stay to watch her dance.

Behind the massive red curtains, Penelope took lead position where Lansey normally was. The rest of the dancing troupe formed a V pattern behind her. As the music began the overture, the curtain began rising. Pasting on a delicate expression, a soft, gentle face, Penelope ignored the packed audience and focused on her routine.

For the first time ever her timing was wrong; her synchronization seconds behind. She couldn’t help it. Her mind sprinted at a mile a minute and didn’t seem ready to slow down. On top of that her heart was pounding. And then she saw him.

The general.

He stood in the back of the crowd watching her with a fixed expression. He meant to claim her? For some reason, until now, she hadn’t quite thought it through. Just what being his would entail. What if he did win her hand in marriage at the Claiming? She would actually be his, completely and utterly by law.