“I made this for you.”
Her trip to town Joshua had reported. He’d scrambled to send bodyguards with her, men she wouldn’t realize were there to protect her. This was why. This package she held out to him. He took it from her hand, surprised at the weight of it. She looked anxious.
“The big question,” she teased, shifting from one foot to the other. “What does one get for the man who has everything?”
He set the package on the table, running his hand over the thin paper, the pads of his fingers absorbing the texture. His first ever birthday present. Some part of him still didn’t trust the feeling and wanted to run, but another part wanted to savor the moment, to draw out the anticipation of seeing what she got just for him.
He took a breath, let it out and tore off the paper. His own face stared up at him, half man, half leopard. The power of the leopard was in the eyes, golden and focused and staring at him from any angle. The painting was amazing, and captured stillness and a wild, untamed mystery. More than that, the painter seemed to know the subject, every line, every curve, the strength and remoteness, although each stroke of the brush conveyed a caress, a loving hand.
He couldn’t speak, his vocal cords paralyzed. Did she know? It wasn’t a capture of the change itself, more a picture of a dual personality. This was not the work of an amateur, although there was a certain rawness to the painting. She was good. Better than good.
“You don’t have to hang it if you don’t like it, Jake. You love leopards so much. I always notice you touching the bronze statue you have beside the stairway. And your office has amazing sculptures and paintings of leopards. I thought you’d like . . .”
His fingers settled around the nape of her neck, pulling her to him, his thumb under her chin, forcing her face upward toward his descending mouth.
Emma panicked, watching his brooding eyes go golden right before she felt his breath. Her heart stammered. His lips were velvet soft, firm, so warm and insistent. Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach. His tongue stroked across the seam of her mouth and she couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped. His other hand fisted in her hair, controlling her head, turning to the perfect angle to give him access.
Jake couldn’t have stopped himself had his life depended on it. He had waited so long to taste her, to feel the velvet-soft lips crushed under his, to seek the warm, moist paradise of her mouth. The trouble was, once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He lost all control, losing himself in the fiery heat and amazing, unique taste that was Emma.
She stayed very still for a moment, allowing his invasion. But as his demands grew, she began to respond, so that he breathed for both of them, tangling his tongue with hers in an erotic dance that sent lightning streaking through his body, making the blood pound in his shaft and every cell in his body leap to life. The leopard prowled close to the surface, demanding a mate, raking and clawing at his belly with need.
He had no choice but to lift his head for self-preservation. If he went any further, if he touched her as he ached to do, he would never stop. He took a breath, staring down at her face, memorizing every detail.
Emma stepped back, her eyes a little glazed. “What was that?” she asked, struggling for breath.
“That was a thank-you. I love the painting.” He flashed a smile at her. “I’ve never actually had a birthday present before. This is my first.”
She frowned. “Never? Why would—”
His look stopped her midsentence.
The tension drained out of her, although she still had a wary expression on her face. “Then I’m very glad I painted it for you. It wasn’t easy keeping it a secret, but you’re gone a lot these days and that gave me the extra time.”
He frowned. He had an excellent sense of smell and it was odd that he hadn’t noticed the scent of paint. “Where did you work on it?”
Emma fairly beamed at him, making him want to gather her back into his arms.
“Joshua built me a small room in the barn. It’s not like you go there often, so we thought it the best possible place to keep a secret.”
Every muscle in his body contracted. The leopard leapt, raking at him, snarling in protest. Even his cock tightened, a hard, pulsing weapon threatening to wreak vengeance. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “What did you say?”
Emma flashed another grin. “Can you believe it? We managed to actually keep the painting a secret. It was really difficult to get the lighting right. Poor Joshua had to change it about a hundred times before I was satisfied. I hadn’t painted in a long while, so I was nervous about doing it for you. He was great, though, when I told him how important it was to me.”
Her voice faded in and out as hot blood surged and retreated, ebbing and flowing like a series of tidal waves. Thunder crashed in his ears and he breathed down the black jealousy that threatened to break free. He tried not to picture Joshua alone with Emma, their two heads together, so close, a breath apart. He curled his fingers into a tight fist.
He’d never been a jealous man. This horrific emotion shaking him was ugly and destructive. He fought for control, shocked at his inability to stop the rising tide of anger. He wanted to feel Joshua’s neck beneath his fingers, feel the man choking, the breath leaving his body. He wanted to rake open the belly, the fierce need primitive and strong.
“Just how great was he?” His voice was a growl, a threat rumbling in his throat.
He turned on Emma, his much larger frame looming over hers, backing her against the sink, trapping her body against the counter, one arm coming down on either side of her to form a cage. “How great, Emma?”
Danger hummed in the air. Emma felt the tension in the room heighten but wasn’t certain why. What it did to her body was frightening. Her breasts tightened, nipples peaking. Arousal teased at her stomach and thighs. Hot liquid pooled and her womb spasmed. Her breath came in a ragged rush. She was all too aware of the heat of his body, of every muscle moving beneath his skin. His eyes glittered like old gold, and his mouth put erotic fantasies in her head.
In all her life she’d never felt so achy, so in need, and she could see why women threw themselves at Jake. It was a little humiliating to be among them, a woman wanting to beg for his attention. She lowered her gaze, not wanting him to see what was happening to her. Even her skin felt him, an electric tingle that sizzled across her nerve endings.
“Damn it, Emma, fucking answer me.”
Okay. Now she was really sick. His harsh demand only sent a surge of fire through the liquid heat. Her tight inner muscles convulsed. She took a deep breath and let it out, determined not to allow her acute sexual awareness of him to affect her. “Are you angry with me for something, Jake?” Her skin itched, and for a moment she swore something moved inside of her, unfurling and wild. Her clothes actually hurt, pressing against her sensitive skin. She ached to turn her face up to Jake’s and devour his mouth, to shred his clothes and feast on his body.