When a Liger Mates (A Lion's Pride Book 10)

by Eve Langlais

  “What’s my preference in wines have to do with anything?”

  “It’s got to do with taste. To find out what you liked, you tried a couple of vintages. Probably enjoyed a few before settling on a favorite. Yet even a favorite pales over time, so you go back to trying more, looking for the next wine that quenches your thirst.”

  “Am I understanding this right? You’re comparing all the women you meet to crappy wines you don’t want to drink?”

  “Why force yourself to like something? Shouldn’t the wine you settle on be perfect? Just like the partner you settle on should tick every box.”

  “And you’ve never met someone who came close?”

  He opened his mouth, and she expected him to say no. “Not until now.”

  She blinked at the allusion. Heat curled in her chest. She was elated by the statement; however, it seemed too perfect. She didn’t buy it. “Is this your dorky-ass way of saying it’s different with me? Let me guess, I’m like the champagne of all wines. Since you’ve met me, I’m the only thing you want to drink.”

  “Something like that.”

  She snorted. “Puh-lease. I am not that gullible.”

  “What makes you think I’m lying?”

  “Because it’s been like what, three days since we met? Most of that a high-stress situation. Meaning you don’t know the real me. The one who likes to sit around in pajamas on weekends and eat frozen dinners and do puzzles while binging Netflix.”

  “Add a roaring fire and that sounds like perfection.”

  “You think it sounds romantic? It’s not.”

  “Actually, it sounds relaxing and comfortable. Which I’m totally for.”

  “Stop trying to pretend this mating thing is going to work. Whatever you think you’re feeling right now isn’t authentic. Once we get back to normal life, you’ll realize I’m not the wife you’re looking for.”

  “What if you are?”

  “Why are you being so stubborn about this? And don’t tell me it’s because of the bite. Would you feel better if I wore a scarf and hid it?”

  “No!”

  “You can’t base your life off some silly ritual. Like you said before, I’m human. Surely any weird cat rules you have don’t apply to me.”

  His jaw locked. His body tensed with anger. “You want to leave me.”

  “Can you really blame me? Shit hasn’t exactly been sane since we met.”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. I didn’t exactly plan this. Definitely never expected you.”

  “Ouch.”

  He whirled. “That wasn’t meant as an insult. Just that you were a surprise.”

  “Like a puck to the teeth.”

  His turn to wince. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “But it wasn’t something you wanted. What do you want from me?” she asked. “Because one minute you’re like together forever, and the next you’re a man whore who will never settle down.”

  “How about I’m a man who wants a happily ever after but is worried he’s too much of a whore to settle down?”

  “That’s what I just said.”

  “Which just goes to show you how confused I am. I don’t know what’s happening between us. It’s new for me, too. All I can say is there is something about you. I crave you, not just your body but your presence, your voice. And when you touch me…” He purred, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  The words were pure seduction, and they fluttered over her flesh, tightening her breasts, clenching her pelvis. “Sounds more like a case of blue balls on account we were interrupted. You’d probably feel different if we’d had sex.”

  His lips quirked. “That is a possibility. And one we could fix.” He glanced at the bed. The only bed.

  She understood what he suggested. Sex. With him.

  And she was tempted. So damned tempted. But she’d spent the last few days working in a kitchen, being kidnapped—not once but twice—and hadn’t had a shower in as many days. Although she’d managed to sneak a number two earlier when she’d left during dinner to find a washroom.

  “Let me think about it.”

  He yawned rather than argue. “I don’t know about you, but I am looking forward to a night in a real bed.”

  The only bed drew her gaze. Surely it was big enough to handle them both because she wasn’t about to eschew the bed for her flimsy morals.

  “Think they left us any jammies?” she asked.

  He shook his head and pulled off his shirt. “Doubtful. Bears are even bigger nudists than lions. I’m surprised they were all dressed downstairs. Although, given the keg they rolled out, give it another hour and that will probably change.”

  “Your aunts…”

  “Will probably start the strip poker game.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Your family is weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  She softened her words with, “But they really love you.”

  “Yeah.” He offered a small smile as his fingers went to the waistband of his trackpants.

  She turned, cheeks flaming. It wasn’t as if she’d not seen it, but now was different.

  Much of her anger had faded. She was out of the woods. Safe. Being flirted with by the most gorgeous man. And now she knew what that man could make her body feel. Was it any wonder she tingled between the legs?

  “Come to bed, Peanut.”

  “I need to shower first.” She fled him for the chilly washroom with its ornate vanity, bowl sink, toilet with bidet—including a hot air blower she’d experienced on the main floor. No toilet paper here. And a big, multi-head shower with a glass partition and a pebbled bottom that also had a dark line of stone that waved up the white subway tile. The water took only seconds to jet out hot.

  She stepped into it and sighed. Heaven. Pure. Freaking pleasure.

  The glass wall steamed up, and she lifted her face into the spray. Groaned. Then gasped as hands slid around her.

  “Lawrence?” She whirled and found him behind her in the shower. “What are you doing?”

  “Hopefully helping you shower. Or do you want me to leave?”

  If he hadn’t given her a choice, if he’d said something cocky, she might have been able to say no. But he held himself still. Waited for a reply.

  She cupped his cheek, drew him down for a kiss, and whispered, “I think the shower is big enough for two.”

  He groaned as he lifted her off her feet and moved them until her back pressed against the cold tile, drawing a sharp inhale. His lips caught the sound in a torrential kiss, and she was just fine with that. With this.

  She wanted him. And right now, in this moment, he wanted her.

  Despite the frantic nature of the kiss, he eventually slowed, taking his time. He set her down slowly, even leaning his body slightly away from her that he might stroke his hands up and down her frame. He touched her lightly, tickling fingers over her ribs then down her side, following the slight swell of her waist and hips before dipping lower to cup her full bottom.

  He pulled her tight to him. The hardness of his cock became trapped against her lower belly. So hard. For her. A desire both flattering and exciting.

  His fingers threaded through her hair, angling her head as he took his time tasting her lips. The sensuality of it drew a trembling shiver. The slight motion enough to rub her nipples over his chest. They turned into hard buds that scraped his flesh, and he stilled.

  The kiss stopped but only because he had another use for his mouth. Soft nibbles trailed down her neck. She shivered and arched as his lips moved lower, the scruffy beginnings of a beard abrading her skin in a good way. The hands cupping her bottom slid up her ribcage until they hefted her breasts.

  He palmed them, squeezed them, pushed them together to rub his face in the crease. The tease had her wet and squirming.

  She reached for him, but he shifted his hips. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” she grumbled as he kept sucking at her nipples, each tug a pleasurable jol
t.

  “Because I don’t want this to be over yet, and if you touch me…” He didn’t need to finish. The arousal at his words flushed her head to toe.

  He growled against the flesh in his mouth, vibrating the bud, and she moaned. She threaded her fingers through his damp strands of hair and held tight as he suckled her nipples, nibbling and teasing each one in turn until she finally had to beg.

  “Lawrence, please.”

  “As you command.”

  She had no breath to protest when, instead of giving her his cock, he dropped to his knees. His lips found her thighs and pressed scalding brands on her flesh. He ran a finger along the part of her legs, and she spread them. He rewarded her with a stroke over her lips.

  Teasing her with a simple touch, he leaned forward and nuzzled her pubes, even as his fingers returned to drag across the swollen lips of her sex. Back and forth, and her focus was so intent he had to remind her, “Breathe, Peanut, or better yet, scream for me,” he said before he placed his mouth on her.

  Oh. My. Ohhh. Moans slipped from her as he lapped at her, his tongue quick and sure, the strokes just right as they lavished attention on her clitoris. When she thought she’d explode, he’d sense it and dip for a taste between her lips. Just as decadent and she clutched at him, gripping his wet head tight, mostly so she wouldn’t fall down because her legs had turned to jelly.

  As if sensing her pleasurable dilemma, his hands gripped her hips, which not only helped keep her upright but allowed a better angle to lick with his tongue. And when he tugged her clit with his lips?

  She couldn’t hold on anymore. With a cry, she burst, her climax rushing through her, making her throb and gasp and shudder. But he wasn’t done. He stood, and with one hand lifting her leg to angle it around his hip, he spread her wide for the thrust of his cock.

  He filled her perfectly, his cock thick and long, curved just the right way so that each stroke hit her in that special spot. With only a few thrusts, he brought her waning climax back to life. He hit her G-spot over and over, drawing short bursts of air from her. She clung to him, and when his lips sought hers, their kiss was more just a way of meshing even closer.

  His hips kept thrusting, and she felt it build then peak, the muscles of her channel clenching even tighter during this second orgasm. So tight he gasped.

  When the climax finally ebbed, she was boneless jelly. He was the one to help soap and rinse her. He was the one to wrap her in a big fluffy towel and then carry her to bed.

  She woke in the morning with him spooned around her, the hot length of his cock throbbing against her backside.

  “Morning, Peanut,” he murmured against her hair.

  “Mornin’.” She couldn’t exactly blush given what they’d done, and yet she felt awkward.

  Not Lawrence. “We have time before breakfast.” He wiggled against her.

  “There better still be bacon.”

  “I’ll give you something salty,” he growled into her ear.

  By the time he slid into her she was panting and writhing.

  For a girl who usually didn’t like morning sex, she came so hard she soaked the bed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte wouldn’t come out of the bathroom, and Lawrence couldn’t figure out why.

  “Peanut, what’s wrong?”

  “Go away.”

  “Not until you tell me why you ran in there and locked the door.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Would I be asking otherwise?” Because that seemed much more obvious to him.

  “I’m sorry about the bed.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s wet,” was her horrified whisper.

  He grinned. “Yes. Yes, it is.” He’d never felt anything more glorious than her gushing over his buried cock.

  “I didn’t mean to pee.”

  Only then did he realize she misunderstood what had happened. “Not pee. You’re a gusher, Peanut. You came so hard, you came.”

  “Gross. Erg.” He heard the creak of the door as she slumped against it. “Gushing is something those Juicy Squirt candies do. Not me.”

  “Because you’d not met the right man.”

  “Don’t you dare make this a cocky, I’m-so-good-at-sex kind of thing.”

  “Would you feel better if I said you’re the first woman I’ve ever made gush? And I’ve never been more flattered.”

  She opened the door a crack and peeked. “I couldn’t help myself. It was…”

  “The best sex you ever had. You’re welcome.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “Thanks for reminding me you’re a slut.”

  “Shaming me?” He arched a brow.

  “Making an observation.”

  “All before I met you.”

  “You expect me to believe that you’re suddenly a one-woman kind of man?” The door opened wider. “Please. I’m not that gullible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll get bored of me. I’m not a lion or a bear. Or anything interesting. I’m just me.”

  “Exactly.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You already had sex with me. You don’t need to butter me up.”

  “I see we’re going to have to work on the trust issue.”

  “There is no trust issue because there is no we.”

  “If you say so, Peanut.” But he wasn’t as sure as her. While he had his doubts about the mate thing, he could admit one thing at least. He wasn’t bored yet.

  “What do you say we find some food? I am starved.”

  There were a lot of hungover faces at breakfast. Not his aunts of course. They could drink even any man, or woman, under a table.

  It was as he finished eating that he asked his aunts, “When do we leave?”

  “We’re not going yet, but you can take the car if you want,” Lenore offered, working on her second plate of pancakes.

  “You’re staying? Why?”

  “Unfinished business.” Lenore winked at some fellow across the hall. He blanched.

  Lawrence might have argued, but if they didn’t want to come then that meant more time alone for him and Charlotte. Time to connect, only she wasn’t saying much. They had nothing to pack and were soon on their way.

  With each mile, she grew more withdrawn, but it wasn’t until they reached the city outskirts that he found out why.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “My hotel.”

  “Do you mind dropping me off at my apartment first?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

  “Why?”

  “For one, there are bad guys after us.”

  “Us. Or you?”

  “Even if they have given up, there’s an even bigger reason for us to stay together. Or have you forgotten what I told you about that mark on your neck?” She might not be taking the mate bond seriously, but for him, the conviction this was real only got stronger.

  She groaned. “Not the damn bite thing again. You bit me. We had sex. It’s done. We both know this isn’t going anywhere.”

  “Are you sure about that?” All he had to do was put his hand lightly on her thigh to feel her shiver.

  “So what if we’re still attracted to each other? Big deal. If you want, we can hook up again before I leave.”

  “Leave? Where are you going?”

  “Home. Back to America.”

  “What about finding your brother?”

  “It’s time I gave up. I have no more money. No leads. Nothing. I’m wasting my time here.”

  “I told you I’d help.”

  “Help how? It’s been months since he disappeared, and I’ve gotten nothing in all that time.”

  “I have access to more channels than you. Give me a few days, and I’ll have information for you.”

  “Don’t. Just leave it alone.”

  It was only by some strange perception that he guessed her fear. “You think if we go looking for Peter, we’ll find out he’s dead.”

 
She flinched. “Right now, I can still pretend he’s alive and just missing. I can have some hope.” Her lips trembled.

  “Ah, Peanut.” He wanted to hold her something fierce, but she remained withdrawn. Not the wanton woman he’d made come so hard just that morning.

  “I don’t want your pity.”

  “It’s called commiseration.”

  “Whatever. You need to turn at the next street for my apartment.”

  “We’re going to my hotel.”

  “I told you—”

  He cut her off. “In case you’ve forgotten, we were kidnapped a few days ago.”

  “You were. I was just an accident of timing.”

  “Were you? It occurs to me that I might not have been the man they were looking for.”

  “What are you talking about?” Said much too quickly.

  “Don’t play stupid. What if none of this was about me after all, and I was the accident in timing?”

  “You’re the one who declared they were after you.”

  “A valid assumption given I have a tendency of pissing people off, but in retrospect, I might have been wrong. No one ever asked me my name. Which leads me to wonder, what if I was never their target? But you were. What kind of business would you say your bother is involved in?” Her lips pressed into a line, and he had his answer. “Let’s hypothesize for a second. Let’s say those people were looking for your brother. That would mean he’s not dead but hiding.”

  “Then isn’t it better if we leave him alone until the bad guys stop looking? What if we lead them right to him?”

  “What if he needs our help?”

  She chewed her lower lip, making him very jealous. “If he’s in that kind of trouble, then I should be going to the police.”

  “You want to call the Russian police?” He arched a brow. “So you want him to go to jail?”

  The sigh was long and loud. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Let me put out some feelers, see if people in my network might have heard or seen him. At the same time, I can find out more about those people who kidnapped us. See if it’s your brother they wanted and, if so, what they were trying to extort from him.”

  “Can’t be money. He’s always broke, and I doubt he’s got any hidden treasure. I’ve been through his apartment. There’s nothing.”