Jaguar Pride by Terry Spear Page A

the bed since he always chose to sleep there. He was in the same position as before, arms behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling, though he glanced in her direction and gave her a small smile when she climbed into bed.
    â€œI don’t want you to think I do this,” she said, motioning to the bed and him, “all the time.”
    â€œYou mean you don’t change lovers at the drop of a hat?”
    She chuckled. He was so cute that she couldn’t help it. With that sexy body of his and liking him just for who he was and the way he teased her so sweetly, she wanted this. Probably before he was ready for her. She had to admit she was impulsive sometimes if it meant she didn’t have to overthink something. She moved over, sliding her leg over his, and said, “Yeah, like that.”
    Then they were kissing again, only this time his hands cupped her head as she pressed her mouth against his, her pelvis rubbing against his growing erection. She realized another difference between Huntley and Oliver: Huntley’s body seemed more attuned to hers, much quicker to respond. She’d had to really work hard to get Oliver to this point with her, so she was thrilled that her body could do that to Huntley’s. Or maybe he was like that with all women—with Genista even.
    She closed her eyes and took in his scent, the way his minty tongue stroked hers, and the feeling of his hands shifting down to her back. Then he slid his roughened hands beneath her tank top and up her bare skin, making her tingle with delight. He smelled like one hot, turned-on jaguar. Her pheromones were just as hot and helping to build the mutual attraction.
    She slid against his boxers and enjoyed the feel of him growing harder as she moved against him.
    He broke free from the kiss, his eyes heated, lust-filled. She was wondering if he meant to cool it between them again until he said in an ultra-husky voice, “This is not just going to be another good-night kiss, is it?”
    She chuckled, then leaned down to kiss him again, not wanting to talk. She didn’t want to consider that what they were doing might be a mistake. Not that this was wrong, but the circumstances weren’t ideal.
    And then he slid his fingers down her mini-boxers, cupping her bare flesh in his hands, and she didn’t care. For the moment, all that mattered was this.
    When she rubbed seductively against his cock, he slid his hands back up to her top, snagging the bottom of it, and pulled it up and over her head and tossed it to the floor.
    He feasted on her breasts for a moment before he cupped and massaged them. Then he moved her onto her back and began to kiss one of her breasts, his mouth on the tip, his tongue licking her hard nipple. Her senses were reeling, her blood in flames as he stroked her other breast with his hand, and she was already wet with wanting.
    This was so not the way to accomplish a mission, she thought as she slid her hands down his back and began tugging off his boxers. He glanced up at her, and she wasn’t sure if he was shocked, not ready for this, or what.
    She was. He’d have to get used to it.
    His surprised expression quickly turned into a big cat smile, right before he yanked off his boxers and then, without hesitation, removed hers.
    Now he rubbed his cock against her swollen sex. The heat and friction—and his mouth doing wicked things to her nipples—triggered that cataclysmic state that she’d never managed to reach before. She felt the whole world move for her—the bed, him, her—until she cried out in surprise and exaltation.
    She couldn’t believe it. Okay, she was keeping him. Even if he wasn’t sure of this being right for him, she would convince him it was. Because hot damn, he was right for her.
    â€œAre you—” was all he got out before she was tugging at him to enter her so that he could feel the earth-shattering pleasure she’d experienced. She hoped