Sendings flashed back to their trip to Defiant Dog. The taste of him on her tongue, her feel of him crowding her against his truck… Her blood simmered in her veins as she dragged her eyes up from the ground.
The man was packed with power from his chiseled calves to his thick thighs, and what swung between.
Sage bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from panting. She wasn’t a virgin. She’d come into contact with a few dicks in her day. His was just better than most. Long and thick, he didn’t have anything to worry about first impressions. Her heart beat faster in her chest as she imagined him taking himself in hand and slowly pumping up and down.
Cheeks flushing, she tore her eyes away and continued her perusal. Up from his narrow waist, over the slabs of muscle that made up his stomach and chest. His jaw was clenched tight under the short beard he wore, and his eyes were nearly obscured by the mop of messy hair that sometimes fell over his forehead. Those she didn’t need to see. They’d followed her for months, always jerking away when she glanced toward him. Dark, deep blue in his human form. Pure silver in his lion.
He bent slowly to the pile of clothes and paused with his shirt in his hands. Eyes going to where she stayed hidden, he brought the fabric to his nose and took a deep inhale.
Sage’s chest heaved with quick breaths, but he still didn’t call out to her and she couldn’t make her voice work. There was something so wrong and dirty about him knowing she watched and not doing a damn thing to stop it.
Scratch that. He dropped the shirt to the ground and straightened with his jeans in hand. His arms bulged as he shook them out, then he folded at the waist and shoved one leg through. With his second foot through, he dragged the denim slowly up his thighs, eyes still locked on her hiding spot.
Commando. That shouldn’t surprise her. Rhys’s picture was shown next to the definition of rugged. He wouldn’t be contained by some measly scrap of cloth over his wildly impressive gifts.
Her nipples pebbled under her shirt and she bit her lip to hold back a strangled gasp. Her stomach twisted and churned, her body flushing with heat. She could almost feel the scratch of his beard over her tender skin and the quick bite of pain when he added teeth to the mix.
He straightened, throwing his arms wide and rolling his shoulders. His back stretched and she got a look at the scars crisscrossing his skin. Some looked like claw marks, but others were more like cracks from a whip. That they’d stayed on his skin instead of healing properly were a curiosity and also made her heart ache. She hadn’t been allowed to shift to heal. Maybe he’d been denied that access to his own power, too.
Strange, puzzling man. She’d watched him fight. That chaotic energy could wipe out a lion pride if he somehow gained the top position. On the other hand, he was a gentle giant when it came to any of the females. Vicious, caring, curious man...
He bent once more, then slowly dragged his shirt over his head. His palms flattened over his chest and skimmed down, straightening out the lumps of fabric and making her wish she could feel the hard muscles he touched. When he reached his waist, he wrapped his fingers under the hem and tugged the rest into place.
Power rolled off him in waves. Even as the show came to a close and he stuffed his feet into his work boots and yanked hard on the laces, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her lioness prowled through her, watching, testing the air, consuming him from a distance.
When he straightened, he shoved his hair away from his face and stared at her for several loaded moments before turning and striding into the darkness.
Sage collapsed against the tree trunk the moment he disappeared from sight. Her limbs were languid and heavy like she’d had the best sex of her life. Watching Rhys took the top spot in her hottest, dirtiest experiences. Nothing made sense. He hadn’t touched her. Hell, he’d put his clothes on. And yet...
And yet she was still a work in progress. Just a scared, fragile little bird who flitted away at the first sign of danger. She’d give just about anything to be a normal woman with a normal life. She’d been broken down to nothing and didn’t know how to get back on her feet.
And yet her lioness panted inside her. The beast didn’t move an inch toward taking her skin, but she was there. Real. Sage could just about feel her fur sliding against her fingers as the cat paced back and forth, staring after Rhys.
Chapter 17
Rhys stared at the door to Trent’s den. Spots dotted his shirt from the cold rain he’d sprinted through to reach the safety of the covered porch. Umbrellas balanced on their pronged sides, wobbling now and again when the breeze caught them just right. By their number and the voices inside, he was the last to arrive.
He’d managed to stay away all night and all day. Not an easy feat with his lion riding him hard and snarling that he kept his distance. Sleep had been nonexistent, it’d been a miracle to make it through the day without killing any of the others, and he’d wanted to douse himself in a cold shower every six minutes, but he kept that fingernail of control over his inner beast.
Right up until he scented juniper and rainfall on the porch.
He couldn’t get the night out of his head. Her eyes, stroking down his body. Her scent in his nose. Even with claws at his throat, he wouldn’t have been able to explain why he shifted instead of grabbing his things in his
