Masks of a Tiger
“He'd bet his last dollar that she didn't and that she would be horrified if she knew. She breathed easier without Ink in the room. Grisha, on the other hand, had a hard time to hang onto his composure. When she had leant back into him, seeking and accepting his protection, albeit subconsciously, his tiger had almost purred his satisfaction. Her slight curves had fitted perfectly against his hard frame, and he'd had to resist the urge to lick the rapidly beating pulse point in her neck.
His cock had hardened to the point of pain when she wriggled against him, and he'd known the instant she noticed. She'd tensed and grown very still. Even now her heartbeat reached dangerously high stats, and as much as she tried to control her breathing, the heavy scent of her arousal hung in the air between them. Her eyes darted to his groin repeatedly, before she pointedly stared at his chest. Oh yes, prickly she may be, confused and in denial, most definitely, but she was also fiercely attracted to him.
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