Night of the Tiger(21)

As she continued to stroke his hair, a rumble of pleasure rose from deep in his chest. She felt the vibration against her skin and it warmed her from head to toe. It sounded almost like a purr. She grinned. She didn’t think he’d appreciate being compared to a giant housecat. No, not a housecat—that was much too tame for a man as elemental as this one. He’d be wild, like a giant lion or maybe even a tiger.

She felt a connection to the stranger, felt surprisingly safe with him. But of course, in the end, he was nothing but a figment of her very impressive imagination. She barely stifled a giggle. She felt almost punch-drunk. Well, it was her dream. She could feel any way she wanted to.

Satisfied with her assessment, Aimee continued her perusal. The quilt was tucked around his waist, leaving his impossibly wide chest and shoulders bare. She slid her fingers over the thick cords of his neck down to his immense shoulders.

Continuing her journey, she traced her fingers over his massive biceps. An intricate band was tattooed around it. Aimee had never seen anything like it. The ink was vibrant and it seemed to be ancient writing of some sort, rather than just a symbol.

She peered up at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep.

Emboldened, she shifted again so that she was resting on her side. The perfect specimen of manhood beside her conveniently rolled onto his back, giving her unrestricted access to him. A quick glance reassured her that his eyes were still closed.

He released a slow sigh and his breathing steadied. She waited a moment or two, but thankfully, he seemed to drift back to sleep. Which was fine with her. It gave her the opportunity to explore the bounty laid out before her. Bands of muscle corrugated his torso. She’d never seen a man so ripped, not even in magazines or on television. Yet he wasn’t muscle-bound.

Reaching out, she tentatively touched his chest. Sleek, supple muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as he shifted and settled himself more comfortably against the mattress. Aimee paused in her exploration, waiting until he was still once more.

He was so warm he was almost hot. Aimee flattened her palm against his chest and felt the heavy thud of his heart beating against it. A light dusting of black hair covered his torso before angling downward and disappearing beneath the quilt. It was almost exactly like the hair on his head—smooth and silky. It was ridiculous just how soft his hair was, especially when compared to the rest of him.

Aimee slipped her fingers down the center of his chest and circled his bellybutton. The quilt shifted and something nudged her hand. She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. He was aroused. There was no mistaking the hard, thick bulge for anything else.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched the quilt quiver in the predawn light. Should she lift up the covering and take a look? It wasn’t really an invasion of privacy.

Determined, she allowed her hand to rest on the edge of the quilt. Just a quick peek, she promised herself. There was no reason why she shouldn’t and every reason why she should. It was her dream after all. And how often in her life did a woman get to examine such a gorgeous hunk of man, even if he wasn’t real? Tentatively, she lifted the quilt and eased it down to the tops of his thighs.

Her mouth went dry. “Oh my,” she whispered. Now she knew without a doubt that this was definitely a figment of her imagination.

His cock was broad and long as it pushed upward toward his bellybutton. Deep blue veins pulsed up and down the hard length. His erection seemed to thicken before her very eyes. The head was wider than the shaft, plum-shaped and deep red. A bead of liquid pearled at the slit in the crown.

Aimee swallowed and let her gaze shift downward. A heavy sac rode low between his thighs, lightly furred like the rest of his groin. He was magnificent.

She opened and closed her hand reflexively as she reached for him. Her fingers hovered over him momentarily, almost not daring to touch him. Slowly, she lowered her hand and wrapped her fingers around his impressive erection.

Heat pulsed through her skin. His shaft jumped in her hand, flexing and expanding. Blood pounded in her ears and her breathing quickened. Heat flashed through her, and she shivered as her body reacted to his potent masculinity.

A low moan broke the silence of the room. Aimee’s eyes flew upward and met a burning blue gaze. He was awake.

She jerked her hand away, but quick as lightning, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Not hurting her, but as good as an iron shackle. There was no escaping this man.

“Please.” His voice was low, almost hoarse, as he guided her hand back to his throbbing erection. His eyes narrowed and his lips were set in a firm line, almost as if he was steeling himself for disappointment. Her fingers automatically closed around his shaft.