Tiger's Heart Read online

  “I’ll have water.” Caitlyn sighed with theatrical exaggeration. “But pour everyone else a glass.”

  Jan tried not to be touched by the way Damien first ensured his wife had a tall glass of water before opening the wine.

  Lucas joined Damien at the small table and took two glasses. He crossed over to extend one to her. Feeling guilty for early rudeness, she stepped closer to accept the bowl-shaped glass.

  She took a deep breath, inhaling the chilly air and caught the richer scents of dark chocolate and spice that chased away the cold and slid down her throat with the thickness of syrup. She lifted her eyes to his and the glass slipped from her fingers, dousing her before shattering against the decking.

  A primal sense of self-preservation had her taking a step back when her body screamed for her to move closer to that delicious smell. “I’m sorry … I …. “

  At a loss, she bent down to gather the shards. Lucas caught her arm, causing her to drop the few pieces of glass she’d grabbed. She had the most absurd urge to throw herself at him, bury her nose in his neck and snuffle him like a dog. Desperation forced her to breathe through her mouth. She prayed no one noticed the panting.

  “Did you cut yourself?” The urgency in Lucas’s voice almost pierced the fog surrounding her. Almost.

  She watched as though from a distance as the delicious man spread her fingers, checking for abrasions and embedded glass.

  “Oh, Jan,” Caitlyn groaned. “Your shirt and jacket.”

  She looked down to see the purple stains spreading across her white shirt and the lapels of the unzipped, beige jacket. A part of her mind told her that she should respond to her friend, but she couldn’t seem to latch onto that thought. She couldn’t focus on anything but that amazing, intoxicating scent.

  Lucas cupped her elbow and the heat from his hand penetrated the layers she wore and caused a prickling, almost static feeling to spread along her arm.

  “ … club soda. I’ll get you a shirt,” Lucas was saying, though it was hard to hear him over the roaring of her blood.

  She was barely aware of him leading her into the house. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Chapter Eight

  A few minutes later, the stained clothing soaked in the sink in the utility room and Jan was dressed in one of Lucas’s button down shirts, sipping a wine she could never afford.

  Lucas was explaining the various architectural features of his home, which she’d managed to glean was new. However the sprawling house with its warm, rich woods held no attraction for her. Sight paled in comparison to the rich smells surrounding her and the succulent taste that lay on her tongue. A flavor that had nothing to do with the wine she couldn’t taste.

  The liquid trembled in the glass and she carefully sat it down[,] afraid of another spill. The other three kept shooting her furtive looks, which she pretended not to notice. No doubt they thought her a crazy klutz who’d burn the entire house down if given the chance.

  Letting her eyelids close, she drifted in the dark for a moment, savoring the sensations that were trying to drown her. When she opened her eyes, Caitlyn was standing inches from her with alarm on her face.

  “Jan? Are you okay?”

  Heat burned her cheeks and she wondered how long she’d been standing there like a moron.

  Damien appeared at his wife’s side. The wicked grin on his face should have been warning of the danger facing her. “Rachel called. Patrice is really fussy. Caitlyn and I need to go check on her. I’m sure you won’t mind staying for dinner so all of Lucas’s effort doesn’t go to waste.”

  Jan blinked stupidly at him, but her brain failed to engage before her friends slipped out the back door, leaving her staring at the beautiful man that had been haunting her dreams. “Shouldn’t you check on Patrice?”

  “Why? She’s not my daughter.”

  “She could be sick.” Jan felt a weird sense of pride in her ability to reason an argument.

  “She’s fine. First time parents worry over everything.”

  “You wouldn’t worry?”

  “If she were my daughter? I’d be worse than them.”

  The sweet comment prompted a laugh. Unfortunately, she followed the laugh with a deep breath that had her bones melting and heat coursing through her blood. “Maybe I should go.”

  “I’d rather you stay.”

  God, she wanted to stay. More than she’d wanted anything else in her life. “I .… “

  He took shameless advantage of her hesitation and moved to the refrigerator to pull out a Tupperware container. “How do you like your steak?”

  “Medium.” The response was automatic and not at all conducive to getting the hell out of Dodge.

  He grinned at her in a boyishly charming manner. She glared at him in frustration.

  Undaunted, he opted for a little social blackmail. “I’ve let these soak for two days in the secret family marinade.”

  The savory scent wafted through the air when he finally won the battle with the lid.

  “It smells wonderful.” Her tone conveyed polite disinterest and a trace of guilt.

  “I’m glad you think so. It will taste even better. I appreciate your staying. I’d hate to have done all this and have it go to waste.”

  Fuck. She had to concede the battle. Basic manners held her hostage in the home of the sexiest man she’d ever met.

  She followed him out onto the deck and watched him, keeping as much distance between them as possible. The cold air burned her tongue and dried her mouth, but not using her nose for inhalation cut down on her ability to smell and helped her retain some dignity. Not that the urge to hurl him to the ground and have her way with him was abating.

  The tinkling sound of broken glass drew her attention, and she saw Lucas kneeling with a dust broom in hand cleaning the mess she’d made. A glance around revealed steaks sizzling on the grill and she realized a chunk of time was missing. The surge of fear-induced adrenaline somewhat cleared her mind. What was wrong with her? How long had she been standing against the railing staring at nothing? Had he been talking to her? No doubt he thought she was completely certifiable.

  Pride had her stepping forward. “I should clean that.”

  “I’ve got it.” He smiled up at her, twisting her stomach into knots. He rose and dumped the wineglass remains into the trashcan beside the grill. “Are you too cold? I should have offered you a jacket, but I thought the cold would be helpful.”

  She blinked at him, her mind still wrapped around his smile. Realizing she was fading again, Jan bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. The pain cleared the fog. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Would you be more comfortable waiting in the house where it’s warm?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  He raked her with a professional eye, before turning back to the steaks.

  She lost another chunk of time to the whirlpool that sucked her out of reality and into the dark, liquid pool of desire. Her heart pounded a tattoo and she battled against the need that surged within her. One moment she stood on the deck fighting the war, the next she realized the need was winning and a retreat was her only option. She opened her eyes and discovered she was sitting at a table, a half-eaten dinner on the plate before her.

  Lucas sat at the opposite side of the table. Somewhere in the back of her mind the idea lurked that she could ask him for help. He was a doctor, but self-preservation necessitated getting away from him as fast as possible.

  She shoved away from the table, ignoring the embarrassing amount of moisture the movement sent sliding down her legs. Thank God she wore dark, thick jeans that would hide her secret. The chair crashed to the ground with a loud thump, and Jan quickly discovered that the bones in her legs had turned to jelly. After a wobbling moment, the lone functioning brain cell she had ordered her palms to brace against the table.

  “ThankyouverymuchfordinnerIshouldbegoingnow.” She managed the burst of words on one exhalation.

&nbs
p; Lucas rose and circled the table to her side. She watched in equal parts horror and anticipation as his hand rose to cup her face. The moment his skin met hers, she knew she was lost. The heat from his hand seared her skin and yet she could feel the coarse texture of his hand, the calluses from hard work. The deliberate gentleness, the carefulness, he used in touching her with those large hands.

  She raised her eyes to his and even in her state of heightened arousal, she saw the concern blazing in them.

  “I know you don’t understand what’s happening, but I promise—I swear—I’ll take care of you.”

  Her heart melted at his words and her eyes brimmed with tears of relief when he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Chapter Nine

  He tasted like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. It was a melodramatic comparison, but that didn’t make it any less true. She hadn’t tasted a bite of dinner or a sip of wine, but the touch of his tongue to hers had her taste buds flaring to life. The richest dark chocolate, the finest wine, held no comparison to the flavor of Lucas.

  Her body went limp and she let him wind her arms around his neck. One press of his body against hers and she finally gave in to the yearning. Using all her strength, Jan held onto his neck as she pressed her chest against his. Rewarded with his groan of desire, she shamelessly lifted a leg, wrapping it around his waist.

  Her nerves had sensitized to the point she could feel every whorl in his skin. No computer could hope to match his fingerprints as well as she could. Move over AFIS. She caught a semi-hysterical laugh before it escaped.

  Concern flared in the depths of his eyes. “It’s going to be okay. You can trust me.”

  The sincerity radiating from him warmed her heart—the only part of her that hadn’t already gone global-thermonuclear war.

  She had a brief moment of lucidity to savor the concern and deeper emotion he exuded, before the need pulled her under again. He touched his mouth to hers and the brief hold she’d had on reality slipped away.

  His kiss, a bare press of his lips to hers, brought her a desperate sense of relief. She nearly wept with the hope the vicious thirst for him would actually be quenched. The rush of hope carried a surge of energy that allowed her to become the aggressor.

  She slid her hands into his hair, enjoying the cool slide between her fingers before she clutched silky handfuls and used her grip to pull his mouth harder against hers. He obligingly opened his mouth and for the first time in her life, Jan willingly relinquished her need to control everything. She threw herself whole-heartedly into his kiss.

  The first stroke of his tongue against hers brought her more pleasure than any other man had managed with his hands. A rich taste, more potent than his scent, flooded her mouth, bringing a moan of delight to her throat.

  “Easy darlin’, I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled around her lips. He laughed gently against her mouth as she continued to try and climb his body. “I’ve got a nice, big bed.”

  “You’ve got a bigger floor right here.”

  He groaned. “I’m not making love to my—to you for the first time on a hard floor.”

  Her mind wrapped around the promise of more than one bout with him. “Floor this time, bed next.”

  She thought he was capitulating when he shifted against her, but instead, he swung her up in his arms and headed down the hall. But for the novel experience of being carried, she would have screamed at the delay.

  The annoying little voice of logic still clamored in the back of her head that something wasn’t right. Fortunately, it was easily drowned out by the tidal wave of need.

  She decided he had built his house with the longest hallway in history. The walk seemed interminable, and even the novelty of being carried like a svelte movie star couldn’t distract her from the hormones rampaging through her system.

  “Is your bedroom on the moon?” she groused, as he turned a corner.

  “We’re almost there,” he promised.

  “Look! More floor!” she snapped, half-kidding, half ready to rip her hair out.

  “Fucking housekeeper.”

  “Hey!” she protested. The need to defend a woman who cleaned up after a single man cut through the haze.

  She felt him fumbling beneath her back as he growled, “She closes the bedroom door to keep in the heat.”

  “Fucking housekeeper,” Jan agreed.

  She felt the door finally give and Lucas staggered into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

  The sensation of flying and falling distracted her from the heat roaring in her veins—and the décor. She hit the bed with a yelp. Did the man sleep on rocks?

  “Sorry,” he ground out, pulling his shirt over his head.

  For one humorous moment, the polo hung on his chin. He tugged and she heard a ripping sound. A button pinged against her forehead hard enough to bruise.

  She rubbed the sting and eyed his pants. “Why are you still dressed?”

  “Why are you?” he countered.

  Oh. Right. She had to be naked too. The voice in the back of her head switched from protesting her wantonness to protesting removing her clothes in a fully lit room. Seriously, men had walked on the moon, couldn’t they have developed a full body stocking that shaped a woman’s figure into a perfect hourglass, yet was undetectable to sight and touch? Something a man could caress without knowing it was there? Something a woman could feel through?

  He toed off his loafers and she threw caution to the wind. One benefit of being a bit overweight was the double-D chest she’d developed. She decided the girls would be a great distraction from the rest of her. She pulled the shirt over her head, and was rewarded with a … purr?

  “You’re so beautiful, baby,” Lucas managed with obvious effort.

  She suppressed a grin. He had his zipper halfway down and froze to stare at her still-bra-clad breasts. “You like them?” she teased, cupping the underwire supported weights on her chest.

  “Take the bra off,” he demanded.

  “Not until you take your pants off,” she countered, enjoying the heavy-lidded look he gave her.

  He jerked his pants off so hard she could see red marks where the seams had rasped against his skin. Her libido held her hostage for a moment as she took in the sculpted chest, six pack abs and powerful thighs. It took her brain a moment to process the chili pepper boxer shorts with the large jalapeño placed … coupled with the navy socks, she nearly doubled over in laughter. “Shit,” he swore. “My housekeeper does laundry. Caitlyn gave me these as a joke.”

  Jan giggled. She couldn’t help herself. Not that it wasn’t funny, but quite frankly, his package strained against the pepper, making it look tiny in comparison. “Why is Caitlyn giving you boxers?”

  “To humiliate me at my birthday party.”

  “That’s my girl.” She snorted in the middle of her laugh, but was too amused to care. “Love the salsa colored boxers with the dark blue knee socks. Quite a bold fashion statement.”

  “Laugh it up,” he growled playfully, as she convulsed in laughter at the sight of him hopping on one foot and trying to rip off the offending socks. “Hell, laugh until you cry, just get your clothes off.”

  Despite her mirth, she hadn’t missed the way his eyes remained fixed on her chest, while he stripped. Good to know the girls had the power to send the man in a semicircle as he fought a losing battle with his socks. Amused, she toed off her shoes. A little devil had her sit on the bed and bend forward to remove her socks, forcing the girls up and together. She had to bite a groan at the sensation of sensitive nipples and skin rasping against the bra. They swelled, tips hardening even further, against the cotton cups, and for a moment, Jan wasn’t sure the bra would be able to withstand the pressure.

  Lucas growled again, and this time the sound wasn’t playful. She hid a smile and straightened, holding her socks in one hand. “See. Socks are easy to remove.”

  He’d managed to remove one sock; she saw it on the floor, a moment before he tackled her. Sh
e hit the mattress again, but this time with the force of a large man squashing her against it.

  She yelped. “You have a thing about comfortable mattresses?”

  “Bad for the back,” he muttered, rearing up on his forearms to glare down at her. “You’re still dressed.”

  She noted the odd way light played in his eyes and decided the bedside lamp—assumedly left on by the aforementioned housekeeper—had caused the strange refraction. “I got my socks off.”

  “I got my pants off,” he countered, eyes falling to her breasts.

  She suddenly wished she owned some sexy lingerie. Still, the way he eyed her plain-white cotton clad chest made her feel desirable all on her own.

  His hands caressed her shoulders and she sank into the sensation of the hot, broad palms caressing her skin. It took a moment to register that her shoulder straps slid down her arms beneath his gentle touch. They hung on her bent elbows, making her realize her hands had tangled in his hair.

  Instead of pulling away from her, he slid those hands behind her back. She arched slightly to give him better access and in a trice he’d unclasped the offending bra. She sighed with relief when the pressure against her aching breasts eased.

  She untangled her hands and removed the offending garment, tossing it across the room.

  Lucas’s breath audibly hitched and she swore she heard him murmur, “Thank you gods,” before he thumbed an already hard nipple. The electric sensation nearly had her jackknifing off the bed and the muscles behind her naval contracted violently. She watched his mouth slowly lower to cover the crest, whimpering long before contact.

  When his hot, wet mouth covered her nipple, her whimpers turned to sobs, and when his teeth gently nibbled the tip, she didn’t have words to describe the sounds she made.

  “You taste better than anything I’ve ever had,” he told her pulling back.

  She cried out at the loss and clutched at him. The heat inside her had increased tenfold and she needed him.

  “Hang on, honey,” he soothed, shifting down her body while deftly avoiding her hands.

  Hot hands skimmed her waist, and he paused a moment to blow into her navel.