Tropical Lion's Legacy (Shifting Sands Resort 9)
She wanted to know where he came from, what he’d been like as a child, what he was afraid of, what he did for fun, where those big hands had been that made them smell like dirt and grass.
She wanted to know why him, why her, what now...
But most of all, she needed to know, “Where?”
His smile was so slow, so hopeful, so utterly beautiful that it gave Alice little unwelcome jolt in the center of her chest.
Then he was taking her hand and she was following him out of the courtyard as Mary and Amber fell into delighted laughter behind them.
Chapter 6
The touch of her hand in his was electric, and Graham had to struggle to remember which of the cottages would be empty now... fourteen had just been vacated, but wouldn’t be made up yet... eleven wouldn’t be occupied for another few days.
And it was close, which was his primary concern now.
She smelled like a long day of travel, and beneath that, like simple soap and sunshine. Her hand was strong in his, long-fingered and rough-finished.
They made it to the intersection to the first tier of cottages, and Graham had to kiss her again, to taste those wild lips and feel those hands around his shoulders.
It was with great difficulty that he managed to draw away again, and get them both down the white gravel path to a cottage he hoped would be empty.
He nearly broke the door, wrenching it open, and was grateful to see that there was no luggage or personal affects within. He didn’t pause in his beeline to the bed in the room beyond, and then they were wrestling down together.
She was so strong.
It was nearly a battle, each testing the other’s strength, pushing for dominance, growling, stripping off clothing without care for seams or stitches.
This was no fainting daisy, there was no place for shyness; she knew what she wanted, what they both wanted, and she would take it if he didn’t give it.
And oh, he wanted to give it to her.
As Graham kicked off his pants, she drew her nails along the length of his cock. He drew in his breath with a hiss, then pressed her down into the bed.
For a moment, she struggled with him, trying to tip him over on his back instead, and for that moment, Graham actually thought she might win the contest. Then she gave a little sigh of surrender and need and spread her legs, and he was driving into her at last.
She was so wet and ready that he buried himself into her in one clean stroke, and they held there a heartbeat before erupting into a frenzy of clawing and growling and thrusting.
It was like fencing, or dancing—advance, retreat, test boundaries, withdraw—and then there was a delicious moment of surrender when the woman in his arms gave a helpless noise of pleasure and went limp in his arms, giving herself completely to the release that washed over her.
That, even more than her lush, fierce, scrambling need, broke something in Graham... and he was helplessly coming with her, utterly lost to her heat and the soft, sweet noises she was making.
They lay apart at last, gasping for breath and desperate for the kiss of cool air on sweaty skin.
His mate.
He’d met his mate, and she was perfect.
She was strong and beautiful and fearless, and there was a secret vulnerability to her that made Graham want wrap her up in his arms and hold her safe forever.
“So, I’m Alice,” she gasped in introduction, when she finally had breath for it. “Hi.”
For a moment, Grah
am could only revel in the beauty of the name. Then he realized he needed to give his own in return and froze in indecision. Did he continue the lie he was living, or start with the truth and go into the lengthy explanation his real name would require? Was he Graham, or was he Grant? Who did he want to be for his mate?
The window for answering politely was stretched and growing uncomfortable, and Graham felt panic rise in his throat. He needed to be cool, he needed to keep things under control. He needed to come up with something to say before she thought he was some kind of moron who didn’t have a grasp of basic social skills.
“I love you,” he blurted.