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“Take your hand off me, Castille.”
It took a few seconds for him to dial down the roaring in his ears and focus on the woman that he held.
“I mean it. Don’t make me kick your ass in a dress, especially this one.” Her eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t want the girls to fall out.”
His eyes fell to her heaving chest. Her nipples strained against the silky black fabric, their soft roundness barely covered. It irritated the crap out of him that he should care so much. Notice so much.
The sharp lines of her collarbone drew his attention, and his gaze traveled up to the tattoos that were etched into her golden skin. He hissed as they shimmered, and his hands held firm though she tried to break his grip.
He couldn’t help himself as he felt his inner caveman stir. The clan tattoos were there because of him—as much as he didn’t want it, that was the reality. They were markings that proclaimed the woman taken, spoken for. His.
“They don’t mean anything,” she whispered softly, a slight tremor to her voice.
Was she a fucking mind reader now?
Lines were blurring all of a sudden, lines that he didn’t want to cross. But it seemed the bastard he’d become in the last six months didn’t care jack shit for rules of any kind. He was beyond being a gentleman.
He yanked on her arm hard and pulled her close until the softness of her curves hugged his frame. Her long lines fit perfectly into the hard valley of his body, as if she were meant for him.
He groaned as her scent drifted in the air, and a longing sparked inside him that rippled over his flesh painfully. Nothing had changed in three years.
Nothing and everything.
The scars along his chest burned as the jaguar became agitated. His eyes drank in soft golden skin, lips that were full and candy red, hair that beckoned to be touched. Her body moved against his, fucking Jezebel that sh
e was, and the need inside him grew—as did his cock.
He felt himself harden and closed his eyes as the sensation of her body against his flooded nerve endings long denied.
He could smell her arousal, it was there, subtle, beckoning, and he groaned as his eyes flew open.
Twin pools of liquid velvet glistened as her eyes stared up at him. The color was high on her cheeks, and he felt her heart rate increase.
He could take her. Right now. He knew this.
An image of his body thrusting deep into hers flashed before his eyes, vivid Technicolor grade A porn. It burned through him with an intensity that left him struggling to breathe, and he closed his eyes, visualizing once more her breasts, generous and swollen with need, long, tangled hair flying everywhere, and her body writhing atop his as she’d ridden him hard.
Would he ever forget that night? He’d thought about it often enough. Deep within the bowels of hell, when the darkest of shit was falling on his head, she’d gotten him through.
Fucking Christ, but the woman drove him nuts. A DaCosta jaguar.
Her lips were parted, and the white of her teeth could be seen as she panted, the small breaths falling rapidly from between her lips.
His hand slowly slid along her thigh until the silk of her dress parted, and he felt the warmth of her flesh beneath his fingers.
“Don’t.” She shook her head, but he didn’t hear her, his eyes focused on her mouth and the way she bit, then sucked on her bottom lip as his hand continued along her flesh.
He cupped her ass, reveling in the feel of her toned flesh, and his large hand splayed across the curves, fingers caressing as he pulled her into him even more. He hissed when he realized there was no barrier there, no thin scrap of fabric protecting the treasure that lay between her legs.
Shit, the woman was commando. As hot as that image was, and his mind was certainly focused on her silky ass, it was pretty much overshadowed by an intense jolt of fury. The thought that she would go out in public, to dinner with another man in such a way made his body shudder in anger.
But, then, why wouldn’t she? She was on a mission tonight. The woman was sex on legs, this he knew from experience. She was more than willing to put out in order to get what she wanted. He’d obviously been a target three years ago no matter what she claimed. In the world they inhabited, there was no such thing as coincidence.
He snarled savagely, and his right hand held her secure as his other reached around to cup the hot juncture between her legs. Her eyes deepened and a groan fell from between her lips as she pushed against his chest.
“Please,” she whispered softly.
Julian felt the dampness there, the welcoming warmth as her legs parted for him, and he lowered his head, teeth bared as his passion exploded.
