Leopard's Rage (Leopard People 12)

Zyah smiled. It was slow in coming, but well worth the wait. He found himself holding his breath in anticipation, watching her mouth. She had a generous mouth, just like her breasts and hips. Like her large eyes. Her lips were full and curved perfectly, like a bow, her lower lip bitable. Her mouth was a shade of red without lipstick, although he thought she wore a gloss and he already had fantasies about having those lips stretched around his cock. When she smiled, he could see her straight white teeth, although there was one little crooked tooth on her bottom row just to the right that set his pulse pounding. She was not only gorgeous, but sexy beyond imagining.

“Did you have your own private dancer when you traveled to the various countries?”

That voice of hers, so sultry, curled around him like the sounds of the various instruments playing the Arabic music so softly in the background.

“No, I wasn’t there for the beautiful women, although honestly, I never saw anyone who looked like you.” He had been an instrument of death each time he’d been there. He was an assassin, trained from the time he was a child. He’d seen the dancers, beautiful women, but he hadn’t managed to stay and listen to the music or watch the dancers after he’d killed his intended targets. He couldn’t very well tell her that.

“Are you going to come all the way into the room or just stay leaning against the door?”

Her gaze drif

ted over him, and everywhere she looked it felt as if she touched him, caressed him with her fingers. His cock pulsed. Throbbed. Ached. He wanted to fist it right there while she danced for him. “I don’t know. If I move, are you going to leave me?”

She tilted her head to one side and again, when she moved, her hair swung around her in a sexy slide, setting her body into motion as well. Those small subtle moves added to the pull on every one of his senses. He found himself totally unable to look away from her. He’d never been so wrapped up in someone so fast. So completely.

“Not if you really want me to stay.” Her lashes swept down and back up, almost demurely. A look of innocence clashed with her sensual body movements and the sound of her voice.

“I want you to stay and dance for me. I want you to talk to me. You’re the best surprise I’ve had in years.” That was the absolute truth and he hoped she believed him.

Her smile came again and more hot blood raged through his veins and pounded through his cock. All on its own. His body actually worked. It was a fucking miracle. She was the fucking miracle. He had no idea where his brothers had found her, but whatever they’d paid her to be here in his room waiting for him, it wasn’t nearly enough. They couldn’t have known she held some kind of elemental magic in her that worked itself into his body, into his brain, repairing all the damage and making him whole again.

She held out her hand to him and when she did, her arm movements were graceful and flowing as if she were dancing already for him. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, touching her for the first time. Skin to skin. His cock nearly exploded right along with his heart. She led him to the bed, her hips dipping with every heel to toe movement. The gold coins on her hips shimmied and shook, causing the bells to jingle on the belt as well as the bracelet around her ankle. He had no idea he could find ankle jewelry so sexy, but he did.

He settled on the bed, pulling off his shirt, barefoot, with only his jeans on, the room lit only with those scented candles. The music started again. He felt the difference in the music this time. It was highly sensuous. He was a musician and very familiar with instruments. His ear was finely tuned to pitches. He recognized the distinctive percussion of the goblet shaped drum, the Dumbek. The Kanun was a stringed instrument that produced beautiful sounds much like a harp. There was a Ney, a flute that had an amazing tone to it.

Zyah seemed to become one with the harmonious rhythms of the music, her arms gracefully flowing, almost mesmerizing. She moved in a circle, hips swaying, the bells calling to him. When she faced him, her abdomen was completely isolated, undulating, all the while her arms were moving over her head, hands telling a story. Flowing. Spellbinding. A seductress all his. He was utterly captivated by her. Zyah. His private dancer.