Blind Tiger Page 57

“Oh…” I breathed, my voice hoarse with need. “Titus,” I moaned, and his patience evaporated in a throaty growl.

The bed rocked as he stood, and I opened my eyes when he tugged impatiently at the waist of my pants.

“Drawstring,” I murmured, too lost in desire to be more articulate.

Titus tugged the drawstring until the bow slid loose, and I lifted for him so he could drag the material over my hips. He pulled the sweats down slowly, in spite of the impatience clear in the hungry way he watched me. Chills followed his fingers as the material skimmed over my legs, then disappeared. The sweats landed across the room, then he appeared over me again, need burning in his eyes.

Titus put one knee on the mattress, but I sat up, my hand on the flat plane of his lower stomach. “Wait.” He stood and I slid my hands beneath the last bit of material separating us. I pulled his boxer briefs down, freeing that last bit of him, proud and thick, straining toward me even as the rest of him clung to a thin thread of restraint.

I looked up at Titus as I wrapped one hand around him. His groan was almost too low to be human. Encouraged, I slid my hand down his firm length, then grasped him at the base. An inarticulate sound of pleasure rumbled up from his throat, and he gasped as my mouth closed over him.

“Robyn…” His hands slid into my hair, encouraging, but not demanding.

When I felt him at the back of my throat, I pulled away, sucking a little harder, until I could trace a circle around his head with my tongue. Then I took him in again, as deep as I could.

He groaned again and again as I stroked and sucked, his hands tightening in my hair until—

“Robyn.” Titus pushed me back gently. I looked up to find desperate need firing like sparks behind his eyes. “I have to slow down. I was infected three years ago, and since then, I haven’t…”

“You haven’t had sex in three years?” I frowned up at him. “Why not?” I hadn’t slept with anyone since I was infected either, but for me, that was a matter of months.

“Because of Faythe.”

“What?” I leaned back on both hands, staring at him in shock and confusion. “You and Faythe?” The married, pregnant Alpha of another Pride?

“No!” Titus sat next to me. “Faythe’s a legend, even to us out here in the former free zone. She’s the reason we all know about the partial shift, and she discovered that during a very intimate moment.”

My confusion must have shown.

“She infected her boyfriend during sex, when her teeth started to shift, and I couldn’t take the chance that that might happen to some poor human girl. Because of me. Especially considering that women don’t survive infection. Well, until you.”

“So you were going to, what? Take cold showers for the rest of your life?” Because there were no tabbies in the free zone, other than Abby. And until me, there’d been no real prospects. “Am I just…convenient?”

“No.” Titus pulled me closer, and his lips skimmed my temple as he spoke. “You are anything but convenient.”

“Ha, ha.”

“I’m serious. You are beautiful, and brave, and bold, and…uninhibited. And I love all of those things. But you’re the least convenient prospect I’ve ever had—and I mean that in the best way. You’re not just a sudden opportunity to be grasped, and I don’t want you to feel like one. If you don’t want this, we can stop right now.”

I looked into his gray eyes. Assessing.

He meant it. He hadn’t had sex in three years, but he’d rather go without than let me believe I was scratching an itch any female shifter could have scratched.

“So then, if I’m not convenient…what am I?”

“You’re unforgettable. Irresistible,” he said, and suddenly I felt like I was in freefall on a swing set, waiting for my stomach to catch up with the rest of me. “I’ve hardly been able to think about anything else since the moment you popped up in my rearview mirror.” He shrugged. “Since the moment I saw you in the Di Carlo’s dining room, actually. And every time I think you can’t get any more incredible, you come up with some possibility I haven’t thought of, or you shut down some bullshit I don’t even realize I’m spouting, and you do it all with this sexy little smile.” Titus took my hand. “I don’t want to give you up, Robyn. I want you here with me, even if I never get the Pride back. If you’re willing to stay.”

My heart pounded so hard I felt dizzy. “But you told the council…”

“When Blum had you pinned, I thought I was about to lose you, and I realized I could not let that happen. Not to him. Not to the council. Not to anyone. We’ll figure something out. If you want to stay.”

Looking up into his eyes, I believed him. Titus was a different kind of Alpha, and not just because he wasn’t natural-born. “I want to stay with you,” I said, and he looked so relieved I almost laughed. I wanted to help him guide and support new strays, whether or not he ever got his Pride back. I wanted to see him looking at me with that hunger in his gaze every day. Every night…

I smiled and ran my hand over his side, to the lateral bulge of muscle at his hip. “So, you stopped me so I’d know I’m…inconvenient?”

“No.” His face flushed a little. “I stopped you because it’s been a while for me, and…” He brushed hair from his forehead. “Your turn.”

Titus knelt in front of me at the side of the bed, his gaze burning into me. He put a hand on each of my knees and pushed them open, and anticipation gathered low in my stomach. Then he pulled me forward as I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.

His hands disappeared, leaving me cold and exposed for a moment. Then his fingers skimmed from my knees up my inner thighs. Parting them wider.

I moaned at the first touch of his tongue, wet and blisteringly hot against my most sensitive parts. He started off with long, slow caresses, the tip of his tongue teasing me at the end of each stroke. Then my hands found his hair, and he licked faster, harder. He stroked deeper, longer, until a blissful pressure began to build up, tightening with each touch of his tongue. Each breath came short and fast. My hands clenched around his hair, and I arched up, aching for more from each little bit of contact.

“Titus. Please…” I begged, each word a throaty whisper.

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