Loving the Lion

by Marie Mason

  Knowing it would not be in her best interest to drink any alcohol, she took out a bottle of orange juice, ignoring the rumblings of her stomach and the array of cheeses and fruits inside. If Bachar did not return for dinner, she promised herself she’d have that for her meal. The excitement of being in such surroundings faded when she thought of Bachar and Tarek driving in such weather to find her brother.

  A brother who had brought this on himself. But, that couldn’t stop her from thinking of the harsh conditions he might very well find himself in on such a night. Her brother really was a good person, despite the worry and trauma he’d put her through by running away. It wasn’t his fault he’d suddenly found himself helpless against a heritage that he’d known nothing about. She still cringed when she remembered the first time he’d changed. It had been horrific for her to watch and she could only imagine the pain he had suffered.

  Finishing her drink, she realized she needed to go to the bathroom. Finding the door down the hall from the bedroom, she was glad to see that its walls were solid and not made of glass. It didn’t take her long to do what needed to be done, and she stood before the vanity with a large earthen bowl serving as the sink and a waterfall faucet. The entire room was filled with green plants and it felt as if she’d stepped into a jungle.

  She bit her lip, wondering if she dared to take advantage of the accommodations. She felt dusty and drab from her long hours of travel. Seeing the enormous bathtub, she decided to go for it. Humming, she bent over and turned on the water. There was no need to stand there and adjust the hot and cold. Instead, she set a digital control. As the tub filled, she went back into the living space and grabbed her bag. She hadn’t packed much, but she did have a clean change of clothing—and underwear, thank the heavens above. She’d take a bath, then lay down on one of the oversized couches and wait for Bachar.

  This way, she convinced herself, she’d be ready to take on whatever needed to be done once he returned. Using one of the numerous elastic bands she kept in the pocket of her jeans, she bunched her hair on top of her hair in a loose bun. Next, she took out the one clean shirt and pair of panties she’d brought with her, laying them on the bench next to the tub. After she’d stripped, she did the same with her dirty clothes before slipping beneath the warm, soothing water. It was heated to the perfect temperature, and it felt as though something had mixed with the water as it had filled the tub. The water slid silky smooth against her body, touching her like a lover’s hand. Not that she’d had many lovers. She’d been responsible for her brother for such a long time. She was soon leaning back and simply being, feeling the weight of her responsibilities slip from her shoulders. She didn’t know how long she lay there, the tub automatically filling with more hot water as it cooled.

  “I have never seen a more beautiful sight.” Sally let out a slight scream at the deep masculine voice sounded beside her. She’d been so lost in the sensation of being pampered that she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Hadn’t heard him approach.

  At six foot four, Bachar seemed to fill the entire space of the bathroom. For a moment she forgot everything. Her life in Maine, her missing brother. She forgot everything but the lust flaring to life in the depths of his eyes. Then, she remembered she was in a tub full of crystal clear water with nothing between her curvy body and his intense gaze. He stood there motionless for a moment before taking another step forward. She hurriedly looked for something to cover herself. The bath sheet was out of reach, and the soft sponge on the ledge of the tub was hardly adequate. With no other option open to her, Sally wrapped her arms around her breasts and curled her knees up, hiding her nudity as best she could behind her folded legs and arms. There was no way to hide the valleys and curves of the rest of her body, though. She felt flush with embarrassment.

  “Please leave,” she asked, her voice cracking.

  He smiled at her, and suddenly she was reminded sharply of the expression of the cat who got the cream. “Do you not wish to know what I learned tonight about your brother?”

  Sally barely managed to resist the instinctive move to rise in the water and go towards him, the masculine pull was so great. “Of course, I do.”

  “Good, then I will tell you.” Instead of telling her and leaving, or simply leaving and waiting until she was through with her bath, he stepped closer. Clearly, he was so unfazed by her nudity that having a conversation with her in a tub would not be an issue.

  But, her imagination told, his eyes were devouring her, raking over her curves like a hungry man. Or cat. He wasn’t really doing it…not to her. She wasn’t his type. Not drop-dead gorgeous and Barbie doll thin. And certainly not the sexual sophisticate that he no doubt took to his bed every night. What would someone of his sexual appetite want with a plain little nobody who knew next to nothing about sex?

  Except, of course, what her fertile imagination conjured up.

  He took another step forward and reached behind his neck and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head. It was one of the sexiest moves she’d ever seen a man make, freezing her in place. When his hands reached for the button of his jeans, she shook herself out of her stupor and realized he was stripping. “Wait! What are you doing?”

  Bachar gave her another killer smile and lowered the zipper of his jeans. “I am cold from the long, grueling search for your brother. I thought to warm myself.” On any other man, his humble, innocent look and words would have been believable. But not on Bachar. He was too cunning, too much the wild and dangerous animal.

  “Not here, you’re not.” Sally was relieved to hear her voice had returned to the stern tone she used on her students.

  “But this is my bath.” He cocked his head to the side, a curious—and still innocent—look on his handsome features.

  “That I’m using.”

  “I do not mind sharing.” His lips curved into a sexy grin and his hands pushed the top of his jeans down revealing a patch of curly, dark hair. For a distracted moment, she wondered why he didn’t shave. She’d heard that most modern men manscaped. Maybe it was a shifter thing. She didn’t shave—well not completely. And not that she had much need to. It had been quite some time since a man had been in her bed.

  As her mind wandered, his jeans fell lower, exposing the ridge of muscle on both sides of his body that made a mouthwatering arrow formation in the center of his body. “No, no, stop that,” she protested hurriedly, trying to rise in the water while keeping her body covered.

  He stopped undressing, and she let out a sigh of relief. Until one dark brow rose and he spoke. “Need I remind you this is my room, Miss Wilder? My room, my hotel, my territory. You are a guest.”

  “I need no reminding, but, I will be treated with respect.”

  Bachar had to work at hiding the grin that her indignation caused. She was…perfect. A wild, fiery mass of passion and beauty that would keep his lion satisfied for days.

  He shook his head. If only it could be. But he had too many responsibilities, too many enemies to even consider taking this woman as a mate.

  Now to his bed was another matter. He turned and started walking away. “Very well, I will wait until you are through with your bath before telling you what I discovered tonight.”

  For a moment Sally wanted to call him back, eager to hear news about her brother—and disappointed that he would not be joining her for a bath. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.” She still tried to hide herself from his view, her hands clasped around her naked body, acting like a virgin nun.

  “You would appreciate my lust more,” he replied as he walked from the room without a backward glance.

  Sally’s breath left her in a rush as she watched Bachar walk out the door. What had just happened? Had he really found her desirable? Sally stood there shaking, not knowing what to do once he left. Her insides felt like they had been set on fire, her attraction to the man was so great. She bit her lip, wondering if she had just passed up the greatest opportuni
ty in her life. How many times did a woman like her get to see a lion shifter in all his glory?

  She sank back down in the still hot water and reached for the sponge on the side. Her mind still in a whirl, she chose one of the many scented soaps sitting on the edge of the tub, smiling at the luxurious glide of the expensive liquid on her skin. Rinsing off quickly, she stood, grabbing the bath sheet from the rack near the tub. She groaned when she realized they were heated. Sorry that she had to hurry, she dried off and reached for her clothing.

  Clothing that had gotten very wet.

  “Well, damn,” she muttered, realizing it must have happened when she’d dove under the water trying to hide herself from Bachar’s prying eyes. She wrapped the towel around her body and got out of the tub, hoping she’d packed more clothing than she remembered.

  She hadn’t. She was now faced with the choice of wearing dirty underwear or wet underwear. She also discovered that not only was her clean shirt wet, the one she’d just taken off had also gotten splashed. Now, what the heck was she supposed to do? Go parading around in front of him like a wet t-shirt contestant. Or…spotting Bachar’s discarded shirt she picked it up and was immediately overwhelmed by his scent. She pressed it against her nose, inhaling deeply. Damn, but the man’s shirt even smelled like sex.

  Knowing there was nothing else she could do, she put on the pair of jeans she’d just taken off—going command—before pulling his shirt over her head. Immediately, she felt a sense of completeness wash over her.

  Bachar was waiting for her just as he said he would be. A moment of doubt had entered her mind as she’d finished her bath and dressed. He owed her nothing really. She and Nick were on shaky ground. Her brother had traveled into shifter territory without permission, and she had followed him. Also, without permission.

  He was standing at the bank of windows, looking out as she had earlier. She walked toward him, knowing that he saw her approach in the reflection of the glass. Their eyes met through their reflections. She stopped a few feet away, suddenly unsure of herself and the hunger still blazing in his eyes.

  “You are beautiful.”

  His voice was low and deep and shot an arrow of need straight to her pussy. She had to bite her lip to keep back a moan.

  Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her unfettered breasts, her nipples hardening at the desire racing through her. Were all shifters this dangerous to a woman’s virtue? “I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

  His eyes narrowed, chasing away the warmth she had just seen in them. “Do what?”

  “Flirt with me.” She stopped a few feet away from him, her arms still wrapped around her body. She cursed the fact that she hadn’t put on her still damp bra.

  He turned away from the window, and she was suddenly the entire focus of his attention. She looked at him and every muscle in her body tensed with desire. A desire so primitive that she wanted to leap across the space that separated them, straight into his arms.

  He walked forward as if he too could feel the undeniable draw. Or should she say, he stalked toward her, the characteristics of his cat much closer to the surface than they had been only a moment ago. He stopped abruptly when a knock sounded on the door. He continued to look at her for one brief moment before he walked away to answer it.

  A waiter pushing a room service cart was on the other side. Sally waited by the window as the two men exchanged greetings.

  “Come, you need to eat.” Bachar pushed the cart past her, stopping by one of the large couches. “Come.” He barked out the order again when she didn’t move.

  With great reluctance, she walked forward and took a seat on the opposite couch. Without asking if she wanted any, he uncorked the bottle of wine that had been delivered with the food and poured her a glass. Next, he uncovered the food. She didn’t know what she’d expected under all those fancy, silver domes, but it certainly wasn’t the pile of sandwiches, chips, pickle spears, and potato salad. Again, without asking, he passed her a plate piled high with food.

  For a moment, she considered refusing just out of stubbornness. Highhanded men tended to piss her off. And there was no one more highhanded she was beginning to discover, than a lion shifter. The loud growl her stomach gave decided for her. She took the plate and leaned back against the couch, tucking her legs up beneath her. He frowned at her, and she questioned if she’d done something wrong.

  He rose from his seat and came towards her, a dark frown upon his face. He leaned over her and for a brief—very excited—moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. And she wanted it. Oh, lordy, lordy, how she wanted it. She braced herself, her breath caught in her lungs as he…reached for the damn cover on the back of the couch and spread it across her lap.

  “You looked cold.” His lips curved into a smile as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking. And hoping.

  He turned and walked back to the other couch, the muscles of his ass bunching and releasing. She wondered what he would do if she reached out and gave his buns of steel a squeeze—or threw half of her roast beef sandwich at his backside.

  They ate in silence for several moments, anxiety quickly robbing Sally of her hunger and she sat her plate aside and picked up her wine glass. He’d downed several sandwiches as she’d nibbled on her plate of food. She knew from her experience with her brother that shifting expended a lot of energy. And if he had been in his animal form for the last several hours, no doubt he was starving.

  Again, without asking, he filled a plate with an assortment of desserts that had been provided and brought them to her. Instead of handing them to her and moving away as he had before, he took a seat next to her.

  “A wolf pack reported a lost hiker.”

  “They did?” Sally straightened in her seat, sitting down the half empty glass of wine on the side table and turning towards him. “Was it him? Was it my brother?”

  “It would appear so.” Once they had received the message and been assured of the boy’s wellbeing, he and Tarek had turned around. The snow had deepened making travel dangerous, and Bachar’s lion had immediately started protesting being away from Sally.

  “Oh, Bachar.” She couldn’t prevent her next action. She launched herself against him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him tight. He managed to catch her with one arm and still keep the plate of sweets from falling to the floor. He also managed to turn her and the next thing she knew she was sitting on his lap, her arms still locked around his neck. The cover he’d placed on her early had fallen to the floor, so she was basically laid out before him, a banquet ready to be devoured, just like the food on the coffee table.

  “I, um.” Sally quickly lowered her arms and started to squirm, trying to find a way out of his arms. As she did, she felt his body respond to her totally innocent movement. Her eyes flew to his, and she redoubled her efforts to free herself.

  Bachar stared at her with his slumberous eyes, making no effort to help her. “You are only making the situation more difficult, Sally.”

  Their gazes locked and Sally wasn’t the least bit sorry to say, she looked away first. She was honest enough to admit she didn’t have the sexual experience to go toe-to-toe with a lion. Once she stopped moving, he moved, setting down the plate he’d been holding. Next, he picked up one of the small brown chocolate squares and held it to her mouth. When she hesitated, he gave a little growl. Instinctively, she leaned forward, closing her lips around the treat. His growl turned into what she could only describe as a purr of approval. Thankfully, the brownie was small, and she finished it in two bites. Again, she tried to move off him, but his arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her closer. He reached over and picked up another brownie. This time she watched as he ate. Next, he selected a small puffed pastry and held it out for her. She opened her mouth obediently. It was small enough for her to eat in one bite. She chewed, feeling more and more selfconscious—and turned on. She swallowed and waited for him to eat one.

  “You have cream on your lip.”
r />   “I do?” She lifted her hand to wipe it away, embarrassed.

  He grabbed her hand, stopping its upward movement. He leaned forward, their gazes locked. “Do you know how much a cat likes cream?”

  “No,” her voice trembled, but she was proud that she could at least speak. Her body started to tremble as well, knowing she was about to feel the touch of his mouth on hers.

  “We could live on the cream of a woman,” he whispered a second before his rough tongue came out and licked her upper lip. “Now, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Her eyes had half closed in anticipation of his touch, but they popped open at his startling question. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Do not lie to me. That is something I will not tolerate.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I know you were doing what you had to do to find your brother, but now you must tell me everything. There are forces at work that you know nothing about.”

  Sally thought for a moment. She knew she needed to tell Bachar about her brother, but she was afraid as soon as she revealed the truth, he would send her packing and perhaps punish her brother.

  He gave her chin a light squeeze before dropping his hand. Immediately, she missed the warmth of his touch. “Sally, you do realize that shifters can recognize other shifters.”

  “How?” Her voice trembled.

  “The same way I can tell that you are aroused.”

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “Shifters recognize other shifters by smell. Just as I can tell if I am arousing a woman properly.”

  “I. I.” Wow, Sally thought, that piece of information making her head swirl. She took a deep breath and tried not to move any other part of her body. There was no doubt he had aroused her with that sensual lick of his tongue. And the natural thoughts that had followed—about the feel of that tongue on other parts of her body. “Okay, here it goes, but please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I would never harm you.” Bachar watched as Sally gathered her courage to tell him what he had already guessed. Truer words had never been spoken. There was no way he could ever harm her—his mate. Protecting her, keeping her safe, was embedded deep within his DNA.