Every cell in my body is suddenly aware of the nearness of his masculine form. Even though I'm appalled by our situation, a slow thrum begins to pulse between my legs. I imagine those strong hands sliding higher.
"Shouldn't you buy me dinner first?" I try to joke.
His thumbs stroke tiny circles on the insides of my legs.
Something flutters in my belly. Excitement? Can't be.
"This is so fucked up," I repeat. "We don't even know each other."
"Gold," he says.
"What?"
"My favorite color is gold. What's yours?"
"I... purple." If he wants to play this inane game while the guards watch via camera, who am I to argue?
"Purple and gold," he muses. "The colors of royalty."
"The lion is the king of the beasts," I point out dryly, and, sure enough, his mouth twists in a grimacing smile at the irony. Two powerful apex predators, locked in a cell together. Forced to breed.
My breath catches. My gaze falls to his hands, large and rawboned. Powerful enough to kill, but his touch is gentle. Maybe tonight won't be so bad. Fates, what if it was actually… good?
When I meet his gaze, he's watching me. My cheeks heat.
"Favorite flower?" he asks.
"I don't have one. I like whatever's in season-growing in the wild."
"Wildflowers." He tilts his head, a half-smile spreading over his handsome face. It makes him look younger, almost boyish. "See?" He squeezes my leg playfully. "We're getting to know each other."
I BLINK AT THE FLOWER, willing myself not to tremble. Nash and I shared only one night, but it seemed to encompass an eternity.
He tucks the flower behind my ear, and I gasp at the state of his knuckles, the swollen, bruised skin. Why hasn't he regenerated? Something's wrong with his lion.
"What happened to your hands?"
"Fights."
Panic steals my breath. "Data-X?"
Violence surges into the air just at the mention of the sadistic, government-backed company that imprisoned us. The one that promised me control of my lion but ended up being nothing but gene mining, forced breeding, and endurance testing/torture.
"Not them. I fight for a living. I have to. My lion-he needs to fight."
I take a moment to sense his animal again. There's a wild, reckless quality to it, almost like static, never settling. "He's sick."
"Definitely." Nash slides his arms around me suddenly, and I go still as he presses his face to my neck. "I tried to stay away. But I need you." His voice drops an octave, guttural sound. "Mate."
My breath hitches. I have nothing to offer this male. I'm barely scraping by myself. And yet it's literally impossible for me to push him away.
He needs me. He's broken, and I might be able to heal him. "Shhhh." I stroke his back. "It's all right. I'm here." For now.
"Denali, I can't…" He raises his head and I kiss him. I can't give him much, but I can give this moment. This connection. Bodies seeking pleasure together. Animals communing.
I can give him what he gave me last time. Make it good. I want to do this for him.
Oh, who am I kidding? I want this for me, too.
Instantly, his hands grip my ass, and he lifts me easily. I wrap my legs around his waist, dragging my needy core over the bulge of his cock.
"Bedroom?" he pauses enough to ask.
"Second door on the left." I weave my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. I have a moment of panic when he almost stumbles into the wrong room, but he kicks open the correct door and lays me on the bed.
"Is this okay?" He frowns. He knows I'm hiding something. Or he's still the gentleman.
I sit up and pull off my t-shirt. His hungry gaze lands on the swell of my breasts above my red bra. "I need you." It's the truth. I pull him down on top of me, craving his delicious weight between my legs. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon rises between us. I kiss him hard, tongue darting between his lips. I'm desperate for him to be with me, to believe me, and not dig up secrets better left unsaid.
There's a frown between his brows, but it doesn't stop him from taking charge like I knew he would. He moves on top of me, settling his hips in the cradle of my legs as his tongue thrusts into my mouth.
"Denali," he breathes, his hand rough on my breast. He yanks down the cups of my bra and feasts on one nipple, nipping and sucking and pinching it before he moves to the other one.
I moan, legs thrashing beneath him, pelvis thrusting up to rub my needy parts over his erection.
I pull his t-shirt up, rake my nails over his skin. He growls, hips snapping.
"Do you have a condom?" I gasp.
He jerks back, blinking as the amber glow of his eyes fades to hazel. "Yeah." His voice is two octaves deeper than usual. He digs out his wallet and produces a condom.
I reach for the button on his jeans, but he grabs my wrists and pins them beside my head. "I need to taste you first," he growls.
Oh fates, yes.
"You gonna be a good girl and keep your hands up here while I lick you, baby? Or do I need to tie you up?"
Holy hell, it's like he tapped right into the fantasy I had earlier.
I push my wrists against him. "I'm never a good girl."
It's a challenge, and I'm not sure whether he'll take it. We don't know each other well enough for sex games, really. Hell, I don't even know enough about sex with other shifters to know if this kind of play is safe.
Except it feels so right. And Nash's answering grin is pure wickedness. Keeping my hands pinned with one of his large palms, he rolls me over and works open the clasp on my bra.
"Do you know what happens to bad girls, Denali?" He ties my hands with the bra in seconds flat. A true boy scout. Or soldier.
"What?"