The Lion and the Lamb
She inhaled, and Leo knew she was taking his scent into her lungs. That thought alone had a low growl leaving his chest. He couldn’t help it, not when his mate was so receptive to him. Yeah, he wanted to be gentle and coax her into his life, but he also thought about all the dirty things he wanted to do to her—things that required her to be naked and underneath him.
She stepped out of her house and shut the door behind her. When she turned around, she ran right into chest. He had been too focused on the way her ass moved under her dress to step back and give her room. Of course, with her pressed up against him, her lush curves forming to him, he didn’t regret not giving her the space.
He steadied her with his hands on her waist and stared into her eyes. Even if his senses weren’t heightened, he would have been able to see the changes in her, the increased pulse at the base of her throat, her pupils dilated from her lust, and the way her nipples stabbed through the thin material of her sundress. All of it had him wanting to rip that damn dress off of her, throw her on the ground, and show her exactly how good it would be between them.
“Ready?” That one word was breathy and low, and he forced himself to let go of her and take a step back.
Cock unbearably hard, Leo forced himself to lead her to his car. Once inside, he had to roll down the window. The scent of her pussy was so tantalizing and teasing that he feared if he didn’t clear his head, he would change right in front of her.
How bad would that be before he could fully explain what she meant to him and that he could shift into a lion? He needed to remind himself to go slow, because if she ran, all hell would break loose.
He would stop at nothing to find her, and that would be shitty all around, because forcing her to mate was not what he wanted.6Lunch was unexpectedly pleasant. Leo had taken her to a new steakhouse, one that had been opened by some famous chef. The drinks alone cost more than she felt comfortable paying, but Leo footed the bill, so she let herself indulge. At first, things had been a little uncomfortable, but that was mainly on her part, not his. He did everything right, said everything right.
He had been a perfect gentleman, and she wanted so bad to let herself fall into the sugar-coated bubble she pictured having with him. It would be so easy to put all her preconceived notions behind her, to forget about why she didn’t want a relationship. A man like Leo painted a beautiful picture.
He was gorgeous, successful, and powerful. He was the complete opposite of her, and once again, she felt all the things she shouldn’t. Why would a man like him be interested in a woman like her? He was constantly surrounded by perfection, yet his interest was solely on her. It made her wonder if all he wanted from her was a piece of ass.
Maybe he saw her as some kind of conquest, as the thick girl he wanted to experiment with. She refused to let herself think about the “what ifs.” In the end, it wouldn’t do her any good but make her feel like shit.
She drove her car home from Kiki’s, thankful her bestie hadn’t been there and therefore wouldn’t be able to grill her for details. Tatum knew she’d have to spill everything eventually, but right now, she just wanted to go home and wrap her head around what the hell was going on in her life.
She swung by the grocery store and picked up a few things before going home. At a stoplight, she looked at all the people walking up and down the strip. The streets were packed despite the fact that it was the middle of the week. Every other person held some kind of alcoholic beverage in their hand, but that seemed to be the norm.
Tatum thought back to the conversation she had with Leo. He was forty, fifteen years older than her, but he wore his age extremely well. Even now, she pictured him sitting across from her, the sounds of someone playing a piano filtering around them. She had learned a lot about him in just that short time they spent together.
The conversation had been comfortable, but when he asked about her life, she closed up tight, not ready to tell him about how her mother had been an alcoholic, or how she had developed an eating disorder as a result of her mother’s abuse and the cruel kids at her school.
What would he think if she admitted she had spent a good chunk of her adolescent years in therapy? She may have stopped starving herself and now filled out her clothes, but a part of her still saw that fat kid in school who got made fun of by her peers and her mother. Even thinking about it now had her picking at her clothing.