Lion's Dangerous(Kings of the Jungle #1)(48)

It didn't take a telepath to know what he wanted, but it still shocked her to realize that she could almost hear his voice in her head. That either she was imagining things because she knew the man behind those alert, seeing eyes, or he had somehow actually forged a connection with her thoughts.

Her head was a jumble of everything, making it impossible to fully decide how she felt about such a link. If it was a link. If it was … then what? She loved the way windows could let in the sun, but she never failed to draw the drapes once the moon came up, because looking out was so much different than inviting someone to look in. She hadn't even really invited Jude to look in, had put so much effort into keeping him out-or maybe keeping herself inside-that she'd emotionally exhausted herself. And yet there he was, despite everything.

Despite everything.

She pressed her lips together because that encompassed a lot that most men wouldn't have put up with. She'd turned away from attraction to him in order to go to a club and bare herself to strangers. To one stranger in particular, and if she'd been in Jude's shoes, thrown over for another, she'd have walked away without a second glance. Maybe a satisfyingly hard slap, but not a second glance.

Slowly, she reached to turn the deadbolt. The lion's position forced her to lean in and stretch her arm over his back. He didn't move to make room for her, actually shifted closer. As she straightened, he pushed his face against her stomach. She was lifting her hands to his mane before she'd fully processed her intent.

The burnished fur was thick and coarse, cool at the tips and warm at his base. Sinking her fingers deep, she gloried in the heat he put off. Here was a creature-a man-who would never leave her cold, never let her go cold, physically or emotionally.

If she backed away, he would follow. He'd pull her in again. Where she'd spent months terrified Paul would try to pull her back in, the knowledge that Jude wouldn't give up was both relief and reassurance.

A low rumble came up from his deep chest, drawing her out of her own head and back into the moment. She realized she was gripping his mane in clenched fists and slowly uncurled her fingers. Freed, the lion angled his head and ran his tongue up the inside of her forearm, tasting her from elbow to fingertips.

The rough, sandpaper-y caress was almost too much, and she shuddered at the intense sensation. It rooted her in the moment, brought her back to his fierce eyes, and he tossed his mane as though satisfied with the result of his attention. Breaking eye contact, he padded past her. No, not past. He rubbed his side against her legs and then came back to slide along the backs of her thighs, then her hip, and repeated the circle twice.

"You're marking me," she breathed.

In answer, he did it again. Her knees gave out. Sinking into him, she slid to the floor, and suddenly he was a majestic, ferocious king. And she should have felt like a lowly subject kneeling at his feet, but instead of erasing her, his shadow seemed to transfer its power to her.

As his strength flowed into her, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. He smelled different like this, like heat, musk and beast. The spicy scent she'd come to associate with him took on new depths, and the layers weren't all intrinsic to him. She'd marked him with her own essence.

Opening her eyes, she straightened and looked into his. Her reflection dominated his pupils. The golden striations framed her image like a crown.



       
         
       
        

"I'm not standing here waiting around for whatever this guy has planned for me," she said fiercely, fists tight on her thighs. "I want to go after him. Make him know how it feels to be hunted."

His lips stretched into a semblance of a grin, baring the sharp points framed by four deadly fangs. Lowering his head, he butted against her like a house cat might, and then he caught his clothes between his jaws. She watched as he padded toward the back of the store, realizing he meant to change back, but not in front of her.

Disappointment didn't have time to set in. As soon as the lion disappeared into the storage area, someone rapped on the window. Lily's heart leapt into her throat. Swallowing around a lump, she rose to her feet.

"Jude," she said softly, eyeing the slatted blinds.

Something in the back of the store fell with a crash. A grunt followed. She reluctantly looked away from the windows in time to see him walk, barefoot and buckling the belt slung low on his hips, back into the showroom.

Mouth dry, she wordlessly pointed at the door.

"I heard." He strode past her, but not without brushing his fingertips over the curve of her hip.

She understood the touch as possessive and reassuring, but her body took away a different message. As he parted two of the blind's slats to look outside, she crossed her arms over suddenly hard nipples. How had she ever tricked herself into believing she could work Jude out of her system by replacing him with a surrogate?