Predator's Kiss (Gemini Island Shifters, Book 1)

by Rosanna Leo

  They got back to Ryland’s suite, and a couple of cops took up posts in the hallway outside. It was still dark out, barely early morning. And as much as her body craved rest, Lia found she just didn’t want to sleep. Her brain was too charged.

  It seemed Ryland couldn’t sleep either. As soon as the door to the suite was locked, he reached for her and pulled her in for an embrace. Lia felt so beautifully vulnerable in his arms, so protected at the same time. Her body wanted to be ravished by him, and from his unsteady breathing, she thought he felt the same. She expected him to toss her onto the bed, but he surprised her then. Instead, Ryland quietly undressed her and then himself. He picked her up in his arms and bundled her into bed. He crawled in next to her and just held her. He pulled her to his body and rested his lips on her forehead, as he wound his arm around her hip. And she relaxed into his grip, feeling for a moment that everything was right with the world. She was so happy to be sharing his bed, even if she wasn’t sure where this affair was headed. All she knew was that if he’d taken the couch instead of lying with her, her heart would have crumbled into brittle, pathetic pieces of nothing.

  For a long time, they said nothing and just held each other. He clasped her hand and played with her fingers as if trying to memorize the shape of each knuckle and the texture of her skin. She wound her legs around his and let her toes curl up next to his. She loved the feel of his hairy legs brushing against her bare ones, the soft, sensual caress of those hairs on her skin. Ryland was hairy in all the right places. With a smile, she ran her hand over his chest, softly tugging on the coarse hairs there, comparing them to the sparser, smoother hairs on his flat belly.

  There were no kisses, but the air pulsed with electricity as quiet and reassuring as it was demanding. His breath mingled with hers, and she closed her eyes, awash in emotions that were so strong she feared they might carry her away.

  He finally spoke. “Tell me about your brother.”

  Lia laughed quietly. “Antony? He’s the life of the party and my best friend. We’ve always been close, although I haven’t seen him much lately.”

  “Did you and Antony always get along?”

  “Always. It was kind of eerie. Of course, with him being gay, we had a different dynamic than some siblings. We just got each other. Growing up, he was my kindred spirit and we were each other’s refuge when our parents came down hard on us.”

  Ryland wove his hand through her hair and shivers traveled down her spine. “Did you always know he was gay?”

  “I think so. At least, I sure did when he offered to braid my hair the first time.” She giggled at the memory. “It upset our parents so much to see that side of him, but I never cared. He was my brother. He might live a different lifestyle, but he’s part of me.”

  Ryland grew quiet once more, and she sensed she hit a nerve. Trying to alleviate the tension, she asked about his childhood.

  “Oh,” he said. “I was a little shit disturber. I hate to admit it. You might be surprised, but being a shifter was something I had to get used to. I was frustrated a lot, felt different from other kids. I picked a lot of fights. One day my dad pulled me aside and gave me a pair of boxing gloves. Pretty unusual for a hippie, but that’s what he did. He brought me to a gym and pointed me toward a punching bag. It was the best thing anyone could have done for me. I needed an outlet for my anger. I still do sometimes. I got into boxing and did really well. It helped my self-esteem and life didn’t seem so bad.”

  Lia smiled against his chest. “That explains the killer arms and washboard abs.”

  Ryland chuckled quietly and squeezed her. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” she admitted, feeling heat in every limb and digit. “I noticed from that first, towel-clad day.”

  Ryland laughed. “I’m glad you approve.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “I still box, you know, for exercise. I have a gym down in the basement. I teach some of the shifter kids in the community as part of our mentoring program. The ones you saw before. Kids who are experiencing what I went through.”

  “You’re a real philanthropist.”

  “Nah. As Soren says, I’m just ornery. I need something to help me with that. You help me with that.” He pulled away and switched on a bedside light. “Hey. Do you wanna see my gym?”

  She squinted at him in the light. “I already saw the exercise room.”

  His mouth curved in a naughty grin. “No. My personal gym. The one no one else gets to use.”

  She got the sense it meant a lot to him. “You’d show me?”

  He got up and pulled her with him. “As long as you don’t tell anyone where my lair is. Come on.”

  They dressed again and left the suite, and Ryland let the officers know of his plan to get a little late-night exercise. One of the cops followed them to Ryland’s personal basement fitness center and stood watch at the outside door. Ryland led Lia inside.

  Smiling, she followed, thinking the room would be a pimped-out closet. What she saw took her breath away.

  He waved an arm around the room. “What do you think of my fitness room?”

  “Room? It’s more like a fitness palace,” she enthused. She walked around, touching the various machines and weights. Some of them looked so intimidating they could be instruments of torture. They were top-of-the-line—that she could tell—even without knowing anything about them. It was no wonder Ryland’s body was his temple when he had all these devices at his disposal. To top it off, making the place a veritable man cave, there was a large flat-screen TV affixed to one wall, state-of-the-art speakers, and even a Jacuzzi tucked into one corner of the room. The walls themselves were decorated with framed photos of Sugar Ray Leonard and other boxing greats.

  This room was his private haven. And he was sharing it with her. The import of the moment made her almost stagger.

  He walked over to a closet where he’d stored boxing gloves and other paraphernalia. She watched him move, his muscles flexing like a great cat rather than a big bear. Between his too-good-to-be-true looks and the testosterone-filled atmosphere of the place, Lia’s heart began to race. He grabbed a pair of gloves and turned to her, a sexy grin on his face. At that moment the sexual rush in the room was so intense, she worried she’d faint. She clenched her thighs together, trying to banish the telltale moisture of her arousal.

  Overwhelmed, she plunked herself down on his bench press. He walked over to her, his face changed by concern. He sat down with her and ran a hand over her hair. “You okay? Is your arm hurting?”

  “No. I’m just … I’m okay.” She was suddenly desperate to have him inside her again, and was fighting the impulse to beg him to take her.

  “I’m glad.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You looked a little winded when you came in here.”

  “I was. I am,” she confessed. “I just like being with you. More than I would have expected.”

  He exhaled and his eyes crinkled with happiness and what appeared to be surprise. “Me too.” Then, an excited flicker of light danced through his black eyes. “Hey, would you like to try boxing? You know, with your good arm? It’s pretty therapeutic. I think I even have an old glove in your size.”

  He looked so enthusiastic Lia couldn’t help but go along with the idea. She watched him dash about the room, collecting a few items. He returned to her, all smiles, and proceeded to wrap her hand with an elastic bandage, looping it first around her thumb and winding it around her wrists.

  “You have to protect the hands in boxing, especially such dainty, pretty, lady hands.”

  She let out a puff of air. “Being dainty is something I’ve never been accused of.”

  He frowned at her. “Who’ve you been hanging with all your life?” He shook his head, unbelieving, and continued to slowly wrap. “You’re a beautiful woman, Lia. Rick may not have told you, so I’m telling you.”

  Lia swallowed. Come to think about it, she didn’t think Rick had ever commented on her looks once. To know Ryland tho
ught her beautiful was enough to make her tackle him, right there on his bench press.

  He stared at her and then looked down at her hand, wrapping the bandage around her palm. “Don’t hold yourself so tight. Spread your fingers for me.”

  Lia gulped. He’d said it in such a hushed, concentrated voice. He proceeded to spread her fingers for her, slowly stroking each one. It was so damned sexy, he might have been asking her to spread her legs instead. And she knew in that moment, she would have gladly done so.

  Ryland focused on her hand, as if the same rush of feeling was coursing through him, and he was trying desperately to forget it. He wound the bandage between each finger, and then crisscrossed it over her wrist, anchoring it there. He fitted her with a leather glove, tying it firmly but gently. When he next spoke, his voice was hoarse. “There. You’re all set. Why don’t we just try a couple of simple jabs?”

  Unable to do more than nod, Lia followed him to his punching bag. He positioned her right hand so that her arm was bent, slightly away from her body, but near her shoulder and protecting her face. “When you jab, you’re going to strike right from the shoulder. Nice and easy, not too hard for the first time. Just snap it out.”

  She looked at the punching bag, and envisioned her stalker. Even though she didn’t know what he looked like, she’d created an image of him in her mind. A hazy image whose details were murky aside from a twisted leer and piercing eyes. The picture came out of nowhere, taunting her, telling her he wasn’t done. That he’d find her, and he’d hurt Ryland when he did.

  Her arm snapped out with a force she didn’t anticipate and she made satisfying contact with the bag. Hard enough that Ryland’s eyes widened. He had to hold the bag from behind it. “Whoa. Dainty and strong.”

  She practiced a few more jabs, enough to work up a little sweat. Ryland watched and coached her the whole time, grinning like a proud teacher, always careful that she didn’t involve her injured left arm.

  Lia was surprised at how good it felt. After a while, she stopped and smiled at him. “You’re right. That did feel like therapy.”

  He drew her in for a hug, glove and all. His breathing was almost as uneven as hers, but as he embraced her, she listened as their heartbeats slowed down, finding a matching rhythm.

  A rhythm fused together and underscored by impatient need.

  Before her raging libido got her into more trouble, she extricated herself from his hug and sat back down on the bench. She watched as he carefully unwrapped her hand. “Boy, talent runs in your family.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Me? Nah. I just know how to hit stuff. Soren’s the real talent. He plays, he teaches music to underprivileged kids when he has spare time and, thanks to all his travels, he knows three or four languages.”

  “You don’t know any different languages?” she asked, teasing.

  The corner of his mouth twitched in a roguish grin. “No, but I can say ‘fuck’ in seventeen.”

  Hearing the coarse word fall from his lips, Lia’s heart began to pound again. Oh, sweet Jesus, she wanted this man. Would let him take her right here on the bench if he wanted, both of them already glistening with sweat.

  She tried desperately to change the topic, to steer it away from her need to have him screw her senseless. However, her lust would not be ignored. Not now that she’d had a taste of him. Not after feeling him slip inside her with such hunger and power. How was she supposed to forget about that? How was she supposed to pretend it hadn’t happened?

  Her lungs tightened as she drowned in yearning. “Ryland,” she implored in a broken, famished voice she barely recognized.

  Staring at her, he finished untying her glove and bandages. He tossed the equipment into a corner. He brought his face toward hers and she realized she was panting; she wanted his kiss so much. He angled his face. Their noses touched. Her lips parted, ready.

  His tongue slid inside her mouth, finding a home there. As he kissed her, he scrambled to throw off his clothing. First his shirt went flying and then his pants. Lia didn’t see where they landed and didn’t care. She just wanted him joined to her in every way. Once he was gloriously naked once again, he knelt before the bench press, between her knees. He reached for the hem of her shirt and tore it. Shocked and tickled, Lia stared as the fabric ripped away from her body. He pulled the pieces off her and grinned. “You can borrow one of my shirts. I just need you naked.”

  She didn’t argue. What did she care about a T-shirt when she could be pressing her flesh against his?

  Ryland yanked off her shoes and socks, and then worked at her jeans and eased them down her legs. Once she was nude, he sat her back on the bench press and leaned into her, capturing one of her nipples in his mouth. Sucking and sucking, making her spine dissolve into useless jelly, teasing her until she was ready to fall to the floor.

  Just when she thought she might, Ryland again claimed her mouth, kissing her as if he’d never kissed her before. As if neither of them had ever quite learned how to kiss before meeting the other. His kiss was a savage, sensual caress. Primal and otherworldly.

  As he overwhelmed her with his clever lips and tongue, Ryland explored her body. Branding her with his passion. Tweaking her breasts. Dragging his fingernails lightly across her nipples. Digging his fingers into her flesh. He was demanding. Ruthless.

  If she’d had any socks on, he would have already knocked them off.

  He plundered her. Always careful around her wound, but taking control of her every last muscle and fiber. Completely masculine, and absolutely unafraid to be so.

  And Lia wouldn’t have had it any other way.

  She wanted him to put his stamp on her. She wanted him to show his need. Every time he held back a little, for fear of hurting her, she spurred him onward. Wanting more. Wanting so much more. And he seemed to understand because his embraces became more fervent as he nipped and bit at her skin.

  Ryland slid down her body and she relished in the feel of his hard muscles gliding along the length of her. As he situated himself between her legs, she ran her hands over his strong shoulders, loving the feel of each undulating muscle.

  Ryland toyed with her moist sex. Teasing her entrance with his tongue until she moaned in a loud, unfamiliar voice. Just as she thought she might lose her mind, Ryland eased her from the bench and pulled her to the floor with him. He lay back and urged her to climb atop him, her pussy over his face. As she slid over him, her face at his crotch, she closed her mouth over his thick cock. He tasted so good, with just a hint of sweat and a whole lot of effortless masculinity. She swallowed him up, never so hungry, and he made a meal of her pussy.

  The most delicious food chain she could ever imagine.

  As she tasted the first drop of Ryland’s essence, as her own juices began to flow, she extricated herself from him. She wiggled away just a few inches, lay on her back, and spread her legs once again for him.

  “Now,” she whispered.

  With a devilish grin, Ryland pulled her on top of him instead. She followed his lead, happier than a hungry puppy with a fresh, juicy bone. He made her straddle his lap. On a labored breath, she eased herself onto his ramrod cock and let out a cry. He felt even better than before. How was it possible? His every touch inflamed her, made her doubt that any other man could make her feel the same. God, this man had destroyed any recollection she had of other men and she’d never been so delirious about losing her memory. She rode him and he met her, thrust for thrust, seeming to dive deeper with each luscious wiggle.

  “Lia,” he moaned, huffing, as his fingernails scratched her bottom.

  Ryland’s thrusts filled her, stretched her, until she was ready to speak in tongues. And each of those tongues was shouting his name, declaring that she needed this man with her forever. That she could never give him up.

  For the very first time, she felt like a princess, in the midst of her own fairy tale. And like a princess at a ball, he danced with her, their bodies moving in the most exquisite of choreographies. A sens
ual dance comprised of caresses and murmured endearments, one whose moves she would never forget.

  As an orgasm of titanic proportions coursed through her, making each inch of her body quake, Lia had to stop herself from shedding tears of joy and amazement. This wasn’t just sex, after all. She knew it, as well as she knew each dust bunny in her writing den at home.

  This was different, special. As much as it scared her to ponder it, Lia felt mated to Ryland. He was already a part of her. Her home was with him, as surely as the winds whispered through the trees in the woods outside.

  And wherever life would take her, she wanted him to be there. She knew that now. She could never forsake him, and had a pretty good feeling he would never turn away from her. It was physically impossible. The thought of leaving him was pure torture. It was the most horrible pain she could envision for herself.

  She was his. Neither of them had spoken it out loud, but it sang in her heart, louder and more poignantly than any music.

  He came at the same time, and his eyes grew wild at the sight of her ecstasy. There was something else in his eyes at that moment: pure awe. He clutched at her, pulling her down on top of him. As she rested her head on Ryland’s shoulder, the same time his cheek sagged against her head, his essence filled her. Marking her as his own forever. Mingling with her spirit and her soul.

  For a fleeting moment, Lia realized they hadn’t used a condom. Their passion had been too relentless and demanding. But she didn’t care. She wanted him inside her, wished she could take him in every possible way and keep him there. It felt right.

  Lia smiled.

  For the first time in her life, she felt at home.

  That sensation was shattered when they heard a pounding on the door. The officer outside the gym was knocking to get their attention. They looked at each other, and a protective glint twinkled in Ryland’s eyes, making them shine.