Leopard's Wrath (Leopard People 11)

Mitya glanced at his watch. It was time. This was the night he would claim his lady, and hopefully his leopard would be satisfied. He realized that as much as he wanted his leopard to settle and feel contentment, claiming Ania Dover was really for himself. For him. He needed her. He was already addicted to her smile. To her brightness. But it was the way she brought peace to him that he needed. Once he felt that, he knew he couldn’t live without it.* * *• • •

THE doorbell pealed. It didn’t ring. It was melodious but obnoxious at the same time. Ania sat on the floor, dressed in mint green sweats that dipped low, showing her belly button and the little piercing where the chain hooked around her and danced low on her hips. Her crop top was made of the same mint green material and hugged her breasts but dropped just below them. It was her favorite evening wear. Comfortable. Warm but not too warm so she could enjoy the fire. She was barefoot, and her wild hair was down. The mass tumbled around her face and down her back.

“Melania!” she called out to the housekeeper, but then realized it was late. Melania had gone home. She pushed off the carpet and stalked through the great room to the foyer to pull open the door with a little more force than necessary. Annoyance died on her lips.

He stood there. Mitya. Her heart clenched hard, leapt and then began pounding. Her sex clenched right along with her heart. He was bigger than she remembered. So gorgeous. A rough, rugged, very scary man, and he made her weak with wanting him. He looked unbelievable in his suit. His hair was dark and a little too long, as if he needed a haircut but couldn’t be bothered. It didn’t detract in the least from his good looks. Neither did the scars on his face.

She just stood there, shocked. No words came out. His gaze moved over her and there was possession stamped plainly into the sensual lines on his face. She tried not to be thrilled by that, but she was. Her entire body responded to him, going electric. Her blood went hot and raced through her veins to pool low and wicked.

She had to say something. “Mitya.” That was it. That was all she could get out. She was acutely aware of the fact that she was exposing far too much skin, never a good idea when she wanted a man with every breath she took.

“We have a dinner date.”

“We do?” Her voice was faint. She found herself staring up at him. He seemed so . . . invincible. So beautiful. A man. All masculine and . . . She hoped she wasn’t saying any of her thoughts aloud.

He put a hand on her belly, his fingers splayed wide. His palm rested on her bare skin, and at once that spot felt so hot she thought she might melt. He applied a little force and she stepped back. He stepped in, crowding her. She gave way again, and the next thing she knew, Sevastyan was in, followed by two more men carrying large bags of something that smelled so delicious her stomach reacted.

She hadn’t realized it, but suddenly she was starving. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She tried to look stern, intending to send Mitya and his crew away, but when she opened her mouth, Mitya leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. A mere touch. Barely there. She felt it all the way to her bones. Her sex fluttered. Her breath caught in her lungs. She grew even hotter, her breasts aching. She could only stare up at him as he took her hand and walked confidently through the house to the kitchen and the large rectangular alcove considered a breakfast nook. It was a much more intimate space than the large formal dining room, which was to the left of the kitchen.

The two men set out plates, silverware, napkins and even glasses. They had a bucket of ice and were chilling a sparkling cider, which was her favorite. How did he know? She just stood there, her hand enveloped in his while the men set the food out. It wasn’t just any food. The shrimp were grilled in a ginger-lime sauce and set over jasmine rice with grilled asparagus. Strangely, it was another of her favorite dishes.

She looked up at him. “You’ve been doing your homework.” She didn’t know if she should be creeped out or flattered.

He brought her hand up to his chest and pressed her palm over his heart. “You matter. Of course I’m going to try to find out the things you like.”

He was so matter-of-fact, as if it was the most important thing in the world to research her likes and dislikes, that she almost bought into it. Almost. Instead of protesting as she should have and making them leave, she sank into the chair he pulled out for her. The two men who had carried in the food left. Sevastyan followed them to the door, giving them orders as they went, speaking in Russian to them.