King's Throne(35)

“While I appreciate your confidence in me, I have to admit it all seems rather…” Mitch trailed off, unable to come up with adequate words. He sighed heavily, running one hand through his disheveled hair. “My apologies. I just don’t know what to think.”
The king sat back in his chair and placed his palms flat against the table, his gaze troubled but patient. “That’s all right, son. A lot has happened to you in a very short time. I’d have been surprised if you didn’t question all this.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “Read the history. Study the Rule. Get back your strength. I’m always available to discuss anything you need. In the meantime…” He stood and everyone else followed suit. “I hear you’ve asked one of the Miller boys to spar.” The statement came out sounding like a question.
“Paul agreed to help me get back in shape. All this lying around is getting on my nerves.” Mitch grimaced and the king laughed outright, clapping him on the shoulder in a fatherly way.
“It is hard for a man of action to sit and watch from the sidelines. Believe me, I understand.”
Mitch heard the regret in Frederick’s voice and knew the sincerity of his words. What must it be like for this vital, intelligent man to have had to stand by and watch his brother usurp the power that rightly belonged to the king alone? Torture, Mitch decided. A very special, very painful form of torture.
The king and queen left shortly thereafter, promising to come back for lunch the next day as well. Mitch knew he had a lot of reading ahead of him, but he was looking forward to it. He’d always enjoyed studying history—especially the history of their people.
But right now, Mitch needed to stretch his muscles more than anything. He craved a hard workout. Either that or a marathon session of hot tiger sex with claws out and all that entailed. Since the latter wasn’t forthcoming, he’d have to settle for the former. Of course, it was for his own good. If he had to fight a challenge in the coming weeks, he sure as hell had better prepare.
Coming as close to death as he’d been, he had a ways to work to get back both his strength and his speed. He would probably take a pounding at Paul’s hands today, but Mitch looked forward to it with an animalistic glee. The tiger inside him wanted to stretch its muscles and try out its new fur—and any new abilities that might come with it. Mitch was a man of action, as the king had pointed out. Both sides of his nature had been sitting still for far too long.
Mitch helped Gina clean the kitchen area and wash the dishes and then went to change. He’d wear a T-shirt and sweat pants to spar with Paul. Loose clothes that wouldn’t hinder his movements. After putting them on, Mitch moved to the center of the room and began a series of stretches. He’d have to do more before engaging in mock battle with Paul down in the barn later, but it felt so good to stretch out muscles that had been inactive far too long.
It was some time before he realized that Gina was watching him.
 
She sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, pretending not to notice the play of sinuous muscles under stretchy T-shirt fabric. My, oh my, the man was smoking hot. Gina resisted fanning herself by wrapping her hands around the coffee mug.
“See anything you like?”
She’d been caught ogling his ass. Deciding to admit her attraction, she let her gaze roam boldly upward until it met his.
“What would you do if I said yes?” She favored him with what she hoped was a come-hither smile.
Apparently, she’d gotten it right. Mitch prowled toward her on silent feet, his gaze holding hers, his stare almost hypnotic. She rose from the chair, carefully placing her coffee cup on the table’s surface, ready as the tension in the room rose with each quiet step. He advanced until he was directly in front of her and then moved closer still, lowering his head toward hers.
“I might do something like this,” he whispered, his lips against hers.
And then he kissed her, taking what she offered and giving in return.
It just felt…right. Everything about Mitch felt right to her inner cat and her outer woman. Everything he did, every touch he gave her, every one of his inner thoughts he shared with her only made her more attracted to him. He was a man of honor that spoke to her own moral code, and he kissed like a dream.
Now if only he would take it beyond just kissing. She was old-fashioned enough to want him to be the aggressor, the dominant. Her inner tigress craved a man who could—and would—demand she give him everything, and give her everything of himself in return.
She sensed Mitch was just the man to do it, but so far, he hadn’t stepped up to the plate. And it would sort of defeat her purpose if she had to tackle him…though she was increasingly tempted to do just that. She wanted him and she wanted him bad. But more than just the physical need, she wanted him to want her and be bold enough to take what he wanted.