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

by Eve Langlais

  How to explain that he now apparently had a lodestone to orient him. A mate. No one ever told him they acted like a compass. Would it work in reverse? Would she know when he went to the bar?

  He side-eyed her. She was human. It probably wasn’t the same.

  He didn’t know, and she wanted an answer to her original query. “Given the shit visibility, I didn’t stray too far.”

  She shifted in place. “Who do you think used to own this place?”

  “Probably a guy looking for peace and quiet.”

  She craned her head, trying to look back at him. “Why a guy? Who says it’s not a girl?”

  “Just a gut feel. And a lack of books.”

  “What does books have to do with anything?” Apparently tired of trying and failing at the exorcism head spin, she rolled on the pillow to eye him.

  “Guys who go off in the woods by themselves don’t read. They clean their guns. Fix their traps. Oil and sharpen stuff.” He should know. He’d done it.

  “Meaning women are lazy.”

  “No, just more efficient in the daytime. You multitask better most of the time, so at night, you all have time to read.”

  Her lips rounded in the most delightful way. “That is ridiculously sexist.”

  It was, but he did point out, “It’s a compliment that you’re smarter than guys.”

  “Calling women book nerds is—” She pursed her lips. “Okay, so it’s not an insult, but it is a generalization.”

  “So what you’re saying is you wouldn’t bring a book to a cabin?”

  “I never said that. I would totally bring a book, or two, maybe a wheelbarrow full. But that’s not the point. I’m not every woman.”

  “You agree and yet won’t say you agree. And right there, that is why I will never understand women,” he grumbled.

  “We’re complex,” she admitted.

  “I’m not.” It was a strange thing to admit to his Peanut, and yet it caused her to have the most contemplative expression.

  “A day ago, I would have agreed and said you were a simple playboy, flashy exterior, shallow interior.”

  “But now?” he asked softly.

  “You’re maybe not as vain and annoying as I thought.”

  “Careful with that wild praise, my head might explode,” he teased. Something tickled his cheek.

  He would have thought nothing of it, but her eyes widened in horror and she screamed almost loud enough to shatter his eardrums. Charlotte scrambled from their spot, dancing and yelling.

  At first, he thought she was screaming, “Fire,” then realized it was spider.

  Oh, the tickly thing. He swept the insect from his body.

  But that only made her yodeling worse.

  Afraid of a spider? Ridiculous. Everyone knew it was those nasty ticks you had to watch for.

  Even after he put the eight-legged devil outside, she sat huddled with her knees to her chest, eyeing the room suspiciously.

  “It’s gone. You can lie down.”

  “I can’t. Did you see the size of it? You know they say we swallow at least one spider a year. I’d choke if it tried to crawl into my mouth.”

  “It is not surviving that storm to return.”

  “It probably has friends.

  “I’ll protect you.”

  “I’d rather just go home,” she wailed.

  “You will. Soon. But you can’t stay awake the entire time. Come here.” He patted the spot on the pillow beside him.

  She lay down, tucked close enough it gave a man ideas. He wouldn’t act on them, though. There was a time and place for seduction. While a woman was scared wasn’t one of them, and while some would say a cottage with a roaring fire was romantic, he doubted either of them would enjoy the hard floor.

  Pity the place didn’t come with a bear rug. But they did have a blanket folded to the side. He shook it out, made sure it had no eight-legged surprises, and then draped it over her.

  Her happy sigh was worth the effort. He lay back behind her, not touching, even if he wanted to.

  “Do you have enough blanket?” she asked suddenly.

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Meaning no.” She squirmed and wiggled and tugged at that blanket until some of it covered him. It left her closer than before by the time it was all said and done. Her back was to his chest, but she kept her bottom just out of each.

  Her scent filled his senses. Calmed him even as it excited.

  It must have proved soothing to her, too, because she murmured a drowsy, “Shouldn’t one of us stay awake to fend off spiders?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep watch.”

  He woke to her shrill scream.

  Chapter Eight

  This time Charlotte didn’t wake up smooshed under Lawrence but spooned against him. An admittedly comfy spot, especially the weight of his arm over her. However, nice as it was, she had to pee something fierce. All that melted snow she’d drunk had gone through her.

  The wind that howled a disharmonious symphony the night before had died down, and light crept in around the edges of the shutters. They’d made it through the night; however, having to pee brought a glaring problem into view. Either she squatted in a corner or she had to go outside.

  Since she would probably die of embarrassment if he caught her pissing on the floor, she chose outside, but that meant first getting away from him without waking him up.

  She took her time shimmying free. He grunted a few times, even tightened his arm at once point, but eventually she managed to get out of their warm nest. She immediately shivered. The fire had sputtered into embers. The cold began to seep and win against the warmth.

  Lawrence rolled and muttered a very sleepy, “Whatcha doing?”

  Not telling him the truth, that was for sure. “Putting a log on the fire.”

  A plausible excuse. She snared a piece and, rather than toss it like him, placed it inside the hearth.

  “Put two,” was his advice before he started snoring again.

  She quickly slipped on her coat and shoes then grasped the door. The first creak made his snore sputter.

  She froze. He settled, and she pulled the door all the way open.

  Damn it was bright. All that white plus sunshine made for squinty conditions. She stumbled through the snow, at least a foot of fresh stuff, leaving a clear trail, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She walked around the side of the cottage before she finally popped a squat. The handful of snow she used to wipe herself clean just about froze her bits, and she hastily pulled up her pants.

  She didn’t want to think of what she’d do when number two hit. The sudden tumble of snow off the roof hit her in a cold avalanche and drew a scream, especially since it found that crack between neckline and skin and fell down her back.

  As she stumbled back to the cottage, her feet and shoes soaked and cold, she saw Lawrence standing in the doorway. Leaning against it. Disheveled. The good start to a beard on his jaw. And way sexier than she felt with her messy hair and pasty mouth.

  “Everything okay? I heard you scream. Did you use the wrong kind of leaf to wipe?”

  Might as well die right now. He knew she’d peed. “No leaf. I used snow.”

  “That must have been cold. I’ll grab you something better when I go foraging.”

  “No need.”

  “Don’t be polite. I know where there’s a stash of leaves that we could use. Not exactly Charmin soft, but it will do for the moment.”

  “Can we stop talking about it? Please?”

  “I’d rather not.” He grinned. “Your face. Priceless.”

  Which only served to make her cheeks hotter. “Not funny.”

  “Everyone has to go.” He winked. “I had an aunt who used to read me a story about it.”

  “Again, really would rather not talk about it.”

  “What should we chat about then?”

  “The storm is gone.”

  “Leaving behind a good foot of snow. Your point is?”<
br />
  “We should leave while it’s daylight.”

  “You wouldn’t make it a mile before you lost those cute toes.” He pointed to her feet.

  “I was fine when you kidnapped me the last time,” she retorted.

  “That was an emergency. This time, we’re going to sit back and relax and wait for the cavalry.”

  “What if they don’t come?”

  “Then hope for an early spring. I don’t know about you, but I am feeling grimy.” He proceeded to strip off his shirt then fell straight onto the snow.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What’s it look like I’m doing?” He waved his arms and legs and even rolled his head.

  “Are you making a snow angel?” She couldn’t help the incredulous note.

  “As if I’d do something so childish,” he scoffed. “I am merely flattening an area in front of our residence while, at the same time, cleansing my skin by scouring it with ice crystals.”

  “That is a load of bull,” she exclaimed, but she laughed.

  “Is it? You should try it.”

  “It’s too cold to strip.”

  “It’s refreshing.” He bounced to his feet and turned to show her his back, the skin moist with melted snow. The spot he’d smushed in his churning more of a hulking cloaked demon than angel. “Now for the front.”

  He wasn’t—

  He did. Took those pants right off, underpants too, showed her a butt that was just as sun kissed as the rest of him. He toppled face first into the pristine snow and once more got freaky.

  She had to glance away rather than wonder if he was having some serious shrinkage issues. She crouched and grabbed a handful of snow, using it to rub against her face, grimy with soot and dust. Her already chilly skin didn’t get as dewy wet as his.

  “Want to melt some so you can do a proper sponge bath at the sink?”

  Did she ever! She whirled to accept and then forgot how to speak. For one, he was closer than expected. Two… Her gaze dropped.

  Still very, very naked. And not affected by the snow.

  Oh my.

  “You weren’t kidding about being comfortable in the nude,” she muttered, the heat in her face not just from embarrassment.

  “You might say my entire family is pretty blasé about it. Nudity isn’t a big deal for us.”

  “More for some than others I’ll bet.” She kept her gaze averted from his groin.

  He grinned. “A lot more for some.”

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  “I tend to run hot, so I handle these kinds of temps better than other folks.”

  “Could you at least put on some underpants?”

  “Such a prude. But if it makes you feel better…”

  She didn’t wait for him to dress but fled into the cottage where she shed her snow-filled boots and aimed her damp, cold toes at the fire.

  He entered a while later with an armful of leaves that he dropped into a pile by the wood. “I’ll make sure to grab more later if the stash gets low.”

  She changed the subject. “I’m starving. Think that soup is good?”

  It was delicious, thick and hearty, and it lined their bellies. When he went out hunting, she opened a set of shutters and washed the window enough to get some clear light.

  She washed some more. Humming and oddly content. She had so many things to worry her right now, yet she found serenity in righting the cottage and making it homier. She even managed to bite her tongue when something scurried across the floor—and died as she slammed it over and over with her broom.

  When Lawrence returned, it was with more nuts and a few fat birds. Dinner would be epic.

  And with the feathers, few as there were, he made her a cushion for her bum. If this had been an actual date, it would have rated an eleven out of ten.

  Except for all the flirting, Lawrence never crossed a line. It made the bite all the more incongruous. He must have really been drugged out of his mind to have done it.

  As they ate, she smiled at his antics, laughed at his jokes, and actually had fun. She realized, despite her first impressions, she had a man worthy of her attention right in front of her.

  He caught her staring as he did their dishes after dinner.

  “What? What did I do now?” he asked in mock fear.

  “I do not chastise you that often.”

  “I know, which is why I sometimes do it on purpose to get you going.”

  “You like making me mad?”

  “I enjoy everything about you, Peanut.”

  “Oh.” There was no reply to that.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  It came out of nowhere, and she blurted out, “No,” before she could think twice.

  “Good.”

  “Why good?”

  “Because you don’t seem like the type to cheat.”

  “I’m not. I wouldn’t. I mean… You’re doing it again,” she huffed. “Getting me flustered.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  An interesting question. She could bluster and blush, but he would just keep on teasing. She had to find a better way to handle him. A way to shove him off balance.

  Perhaps she needed a drastic change in her tactics. Leaving the dishes spread out to dry, he joined her on the blanket.

  She leaned close and kissed him. A quick brush of her mouth but it still caused him to draw in a sharp breath.

  “What was that for?” Lawrence asked.

  “Because I was curious.”

  “About?”

  Admit her fascination with him? How he made her tingle head to toe? More importantly, did he make anyone else tingle? “Do you have a girlfriend or wife?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Meaning what?” Had she just kissed a married man?

  “It’s complicated.” A crooked grin that did nothing to help her inner deflation.

  “So you are taken.”

  He shook his head and reached for her hands, their warmth causing a deep awareness. He drew her close. “Trust me when I say I am available for anything you might desire.”

  Pretty words. Cheating words. She pulled her hands free. “I will not be the other woman.”

  “You wouldn’t be. I mean I’m not with anyone but you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m not the type to step out on a woman.”

  “Says you. How many women have you dated?”

  His lips flattened. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” The implicating being too many for him to comfortably mention.

  “What’s the longest you’ve ever been with someone?”

  “How long for you?” he riposted.

  “I once managed four and a half years.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  “His penis fell into someone else. And you still haven’t answered me. What’s the longest you’ve been with someone?”

  She didn’t specify so he played dumb. “I’ve been friends with Dean for over a decade. And I’m still talking to most of my family.”

  Her expression chastised.

  He slumped. “I once managed six months.” Only because she lived in a different country. It only took a few in-person visits before they broke up.

  “Six months.” She blinked at him. “What is wrong with you?”

  He gaped. “What makes you think I’m the problem?”

  “You’re too pretty. No girl is going to break up with you that quick unless you’re a real jerk. Or…” She halted.

  He prodded. “Or what?”

  “You’re really, really bad at you know.” She tried to sound meaningful.

  He choked. “No. You did not just accuse me of being a terrible lover. I’ll have you know I’ve never left a woman dissatisfied.”

  “How would you know? You practically admitted you rarely go back for seconds. How do you even know they’re interested?”

  This time he blinked. “Because they ask me for more.”

  “Again,
I’m going to remind you of the whole pretty thing. Could be some of them hoped you weren’t as bad as they recalled.”

  His expression was finally off balance in a way that had her unable to control the snickering.

  “Wait a second. Are you fucking with me?”

  “Nope. I hear you might be bad at it.”

  “Why you minx.” He sounded amused rather than indignant. He lunged for her, and she didn’t quite make it out of reach. His fingers dug into her ribs and found her ticklish spots.

  She laughed hard and uncontrollably. She writhed but couldn’t quite escape and didn’t really want to either. Odd given he’d just admitted he was a one-and-done kind of guy.

  Perhaps that was what appealed. Sex with no strings. Just a physical release. It had been so long since she’d had that kind of contact with anyone.

  Something in their tickling wrestling match changed, became charged. They both stilled. She sat atop him, straddling his midsection, her hands on his chest. His fingers, now still, gripped her by the waist.

  She leaned down and kissed him. Not a short peck. Not a simple fluttery brush of lips.

  She kissed him open mouth, hot breath, and exploding passion that saw her rolled to her back. He half lay across her, taking a shy exploration into a sizzling territory that ignited all her nerve endings.

  The fire in the hearth crackled, but it didn’t kick out half the heat her desire did. She clung to his broad shoulders and enjoyed each nibbling bite. Half swooned when their tongues twined.

  When his lips began tracing a path down, she undulated and gasped. She didn’t say a word but rather helped him strip off her blouse. He pushed aside the cups on her bra that he might rub his raspy jaw on the tender skin. He nuzzled. Licked. Sucked on the very tip, drawing pleasurable jolts through her that soon had her panting.

  He inserted his thigh between her legs as he toyed with her breasts, the hard line of it giving her something to squirm against. To catch her breath and feel the languor spread.

  When his hand slipped past the waistband of her pants, her legs parted further to give his questing fingers access. He cupped her and rumbled around the nipple in his mouth, “Wet.”

  Very wet.

  He dipped a finger inside her. Two. Long fingers that knew where to reach and stroke. He soon had her writhing and bucking, her hips lifting to meet his hand, his mouth sucking hard at her nipples and biting them on occasion for that extra jolt.