Chapter 4
Pulling back, Lana fought to regain both her composure and her breath. Not to mention that smartass waitress I was channeling earlier.
Finally, she said, “Okay, I have an idea.”
“What’s that?” He smiled, but his breath came a little faster than usual, too.
Good.
She picked up her next shot glass. “Okay, open your mouth, and follow my lead.”
When he nodded, Lana took the shot into her mouth without swallowing, and then put her lips up to his in a kiss. Opening her mouth, she let the tequila spill into his mouth, the alcohol burning and cooling, all at once.
As he swallowed, she kissed him again, placing one of her hands flat on his chest and gently massaging it. His chest was hard. Thick. Muscular.
Could he be more sexy?
“My turn.” The smile he gave her afterward was both hot and sweet as he picked up a shot of his own.
“Okay,” she responded, not sure if he could pull it off. But he did. She loved the sensation of the warm, burning liquid splashing into the back of her mouth from his, then evaporating in the heat of their kiss.
His fingertips grazed her nipple as his own hand settled on her breast for an instant before sliding up along her neck. A chill of excitement ran through her. Public displays of affection had never been her thing, but she was in a strange mood tonight.
I think I might love where this is going.
When she pulled back from the kiss, she glimpsed his tiger’s nictitating membrane flash across his eye, though he swiftly closed his human eyelids to cover it. If she’d been the human she pretended to be, she would have missed it in the dark.
She laughed in sheer delight at the joy of being with another tiger-shifter again, leaning in and giving him a soft, short kiss on the lips. “Ready for the last shots? Traditionally this time, though?”
“Lead the way.”
Is this really such a smart thing? Those first shots hit me much harder than they usually do, and I’m already being pretty reckless.
“Fuck it,” Lana said aloud, and ordered more.
“What?”
“Nothing. Simply thinking aloud,” she tried to recover.
Four final shot glasses showed up on the bar, and Roman slid hers over to her, and then raised his glass, not to be talked out of a toast this time. “To the Bat Bar.”
When the warm liquid hit her throat, it seemed to evaporate into her skin along with all his kisses from the evening, leaving her head swimming. Or maybe it’s spinning because of Roman Velazquez. Maybe I should let him take my last shot. I don’t want to be too out of control. Or do I?
Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the final glass, barely slowing down enough to let him raise his own. “To my place?”
“I’ll drink to that.” With a heated glance, he took his last shot, too.
I said that. I really said that. Oh my god. I’m totally out of control, but having such a good time. Why haven’t I ever done something like this before?
Because, some calmer voice in her head answered, he’s the first tiger-shifter you’ve seen in years—and possibly the most beautiful ever.
“That was definitely the best tequila I have ever had.” Roman set both their glasses down on the bar and pulled her to him as he tossed bills on the bar, barely stopping to count them.
They turned and headed for the stairs.
We’re actually doing this. Sleeping together on the first date.
Once they were back on the River Walk, the awkward practicality of reality hit her. “Oh. I don’t have a car.”
“That’s okay,” Roman guided her up some stone steps, away from the River Walk and back to the street level. “I’ll get us a cab.”
Both of us on a bus back to my place would have really killed the mood. She almost snickered aloud.
As they ascended the stairway to the street, the sidewalk was crowded, but there was a long line of empty cabs. Roman held open the door of the first one and Lana gave the driver her address as Roman climbed in behind her.
I want to hold his hand, but I’m not on the right side. What do I do?
After a moment’s thought, she put her right hand on the inside of his left thigh and lowered the side of her head against his shoulder.
I feel so safe with him. It had never felt so natural to simply be with anyone—not even Ian, no matter how much she’d loved him.
“I’m glad you liked the bar,” she said in a low voice.
“Oh, I loved it. And I loved the company even more.”
It didn’t take long for the cab to get them to her place, and as they walked toward the entrance to Lana’s apartment building, Roman said, “You told me your roommate travels a lot?”
“She’s not here—she left on an overseas flight this morning. You don’t have to worry. We have the place to ourselves.”
The building’s old elevator moved slowly. For the first time, Lana regretted choosing to live in a cheap apartment—but she couldn’t afford much more, and Rosie, her roommate, didn’t want to spend a lot of money on a place she only used a few nights a month.
But Lana always worried that the elevator would break down and right now was hyper-aware of the right corner shaking and vibrating slightly as it moved upward.
Of course, if the elevator breaks down, this could be another first for me. Sex in an elevator.
Roman had become strangely mute since they’d entered her apartment building. Is he nervous? Wishing he hadn’t come with me?
Despite her sudden anxiety, she managed the keys and unlocked the door to the dark, cool apartment. An artificial breeze escaped through the door, brushing past her sensitized skin. Rosie kept the AC cranked low and had forgotten to turn it back up before she left that morning. Lana had mostly learned to live with it.
Turning on the hallway light, she led Roman into the small living room, directing him to a couch that was really only slightly larger than a love seat. She headed for the kitchenette. “We’ve got tons of alcohol, if you want. I need water, though.”
As Roman sat, he finally broke his silence. “Oh, I doubt we could top what we had. Nothing for me, thanks.”
In the kitchenette, Lana realized her mouth had gone dry at the sound of his voice. She needed the water now. She poured it and gulped it down right afterward. I sound so loud. Do I sound as loud to him where he is sitting? She rubbed her eyes. Of course she did. He was a tiger-shifter, too, after all. He can probably hear my heart beating if he listens carefully enough. Note to self: Never drink tequila on a first date again.
Lana headed for the small couch, where Roman sat in the middle, his right arm stretched out over the back of the couch.
Best bet is probably to sit on his left side, so he can reach over with his right arm and touch me. Right? Oh, god. Is it wrong that I’m thinking like this?
Trying not to give away her sudden attack of nerves, Lana sat down next to him, up against his side. He was warm and solid, his muscles firm alongside her.
“You’re a really good kisser,” she said, not wanting any kind of awkward silence to set in. So instead I opt for awkward conversation. What is wrong with me?
“So are you,” he whispered, obviously not bothered by her conversational gambit. In fact, his hand was already on her top, slowly and gently undoing her buttons with his fingers. His hand was strong and steady and she relaxed against the back of the couch, tilting her head back and closing her eyes, letting out a slight sigh.
Kiss my neck.
As if he read her mind, his lips lowered to the spot where her clavicle formed a dip, the tip of his warm tongue extending to caress her skin. Do I taste salty?
Roman finished her unbuttoning her top with precision and pulled her white waitress’s dress shirt out of her black pants. A shiver moved through her as his hand ghosted up the skin of her stomach to the underside of her breasts, where he traced their curves, his fingers moving as his mouth caressed her neck, their combined touch a symphony of sensation.
I’ve been starving for another tiger’s touch, she realized.
His fingers whispered up the center of her cleavage to unhook the front of her bra in a graceful motion, and the cool air against her skin joined the orchestra of touch, tautening her nipples.
Slowly, tantalizingly, he slid her bra straps and shirt back over her shoulders, and then down behind her, trapping her arms inside her sleeves and his hands. The contrast between the cold air and her hot skin played against his hot breath and warm tongue, making her tremble in anticipation. She pushed back against his hold, and his lips moved against her as he murmured, “Not yet. Okay?”
The combination of his strength with his gentleness, his willingness to make sure she felt safe with him only made her want him more. A tiny whimper escaped her, but she nodded. She wanted to kiss him on the lips again, but he was doing wonderful things to her neck, and she didn’t want that to end, either. At least not yet.
Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, though, Roman moved down, his tongue flicking a trail from her neck to her breast. A nearly inaudible moan escape from her throat. Being with him feels so right. He is both comforting and exciting at the same time.
And when he took the pebbled skin of a nipple into his mouth, rolling the pebbled flesh around the heated interior, she almost melted with need, pushing against his hold impatiently. He let go instantly, and she pulled at his shirt, the steady hands at the door gone—she was now shaking and trembling a little.
Is this from the alcohol or from the excitement?
She pulled his shirt off over his head, forcing him to stop kissing her breast. When his lips returned to her, he sought out her face. Her cheeks. Her chin. Her lips.
As her lips parted to welcome him in, she slid down to the seat of the couch. Fuck it. The bedroom is too far away, and I can’t wait. Besides, it’s a mess in there.
Suddenly, she froze, paralyzed by a memory.
“You’ll be my mate, you know. Ian never deserved you,” a voice echoed in her mind.
Trevor.
“I’ll die first,” she’d said from inside the cage where he and his men had held her, day after day. “I’ll open my own veins.” She snicked out her claws to prove she could.
Trevor laughed. “Oh, kitten, you shouldn’t have shown me that.” With a gesture, he’d had several of his men tie her arms out to the side. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn’t get away—not even after she’d raked one of the tiger-shifter’s ears off in the fight.
“Be still,” Trevor snarled, “or I’ll allow every single one of my men to fuck you. I’ll let them take you as men and as tigers and in their hybrid forms, until you’re raw and bleeding and more than likely pregnant by the time they’re done.”
A terrified sob shuddered out of her.
Trevor’s voice turned silky. “Or, if you prefer, you can choose me. Take me as your mate, legitimize my position of alpha, and you can have the run of my home. After, of course, you provide me with an heir.” He slipped his hands through the bars, stroking her hair as she strained to back away from him. “I know you will make the right decision. The only decision.”
He gave her one last wicked smile before leaving the large receiving room, where he left her, all of his men standing around the cage, leering at her.
With a shaking tremor now, she pulled herself out of the memory, only to find herself curled into a ball in the corner of the small sofa, Roman above her, frowning as he gently touched her shoulder.
“Lana? What is it? Are you okay?”