"No more talking," he said. "I've got a better use for our tongues."

"Prove it."

His mouth meshed with mine; his tongue swept inside and mine was there to greet him. I tasted the Scotch, but mostly I tasted Royce, a heady male flavor that was all his own. This is what I'd wanted. This is what I'd needed. To be with him. To lose myself and my fears in the pleasure only he could give me.

Water churned around us, lapping at my skin, acting as another stimulant. I tightened my legs around his waist and pressed intimately against him. His erection brushed the core of me, and we both jerked in blissful response.

My hands roamed over him, every inch. Sliding down his chest. Circling his nipples. Wrapping around his thick, hard penis.

"You're killing me," he growled. He nibbled my collarbone, sucking away every drop of liquid.

"What a way to die, hmm?"

His strained chuckle wafted over me, cool against my heated, wet skin. "You're like my kryptonite. I weaken just being around you."

"I'm glad." I nipped at his neck, all the while rubbing myself against him. A moan slipped from my mouth. God, he felt so good.

"If it weren't for your four-hundred-dollars-an-hour lips, I might, might have been able to hold out another minute or two."

"Only four hundred?" The water and steam made his skin slick and sultry, and I slid down him until my mouth reached his nipples. I licked, circling the sensitive area with my tongue.

"Hundred thousand, sweetheart." His hands cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. He gazed deeply into my eyes. "Your lips are four hundred thousand dollars an hour."

I grinned slowly. With my legs still anchored solidly around him, he pushed to his feet. My back straightened and I kissed him, and I didn't stop kissing him as he stepped out of the tub, groping blindly for the bedroom door. We made it inside and toppled onto the cool, dry sheets. We rolled and strained and writhed against each other, our excitement mounting, the tension building.

He pushed me to my back and crawled low, between my legs. His tongue licked inside me. I almost screamed. He brought his fingers into play, moving them inside me as his tongue worked at my clitoris. My limbs shook with the force of my pleasure, and I was just about to-

He sat up, his every muscle pulled tight. "Condom?"

"Yes," I quickly replied, though a part of me screamed no. I was going to have to have a long, stern talk with that ridiculous part of me.

"One sec," he said, his voice so husky and raw I barely heard him. He pulled away and raced to his bag.

"Why'd you bring condoms if you planned to wait until marriage?"

He smiled sheepishly, but never moved his focus from the bag. "I know my limitations."

I lay atop the bed, panting, needy, achy. "Hurry."

He was on top of me in the next instant, slipping, sliding inside me to the hilt. I welcomed him eagerly, crying out his name, arching my back, clawing at his arms. Oh, the exquisite pleasure of being with him.

He paused, staring down at me, the lines around his mouth and eyes taut. "Can you handle a rough ride?"

"I'm a Tigress, remember?"

He pulled back and slammed forward. I moaned in rapture.

Over and over, he repeated the action, taking me higher, close to the edge.

"Naomi, Naomi, Naomi." He chanted my name as he moved. A prayer, or maybe a curse.

"Royce," I chanted back. Definitely a curse.

His tempo increased, and so did my pleasure. I was almost there, so close I would die if I didn't get there soon. Suddenly he reared back, then pounded forward and hit me exactly where I needed him most. My climax ripped through me. Stars winked behind my eyes; blood pounded through my veins. I think my soul even left my body for a moment.

As I spasmed around him, he roared loud and long. His body stiffened and he gripped my hips. He shouted my name again, and this time I knew it was a prayer.

Chapter Eighteen

If you allow another animal to have power over you, you will slowly sink back to life as a dependent cub. Your emotions will not be your own. Your activities will not be your own.

A little over A week passed, and I used the time to get used to being a girlfriend. Royce came to my apartment every evening. First, we'd work on party preparations. Then, we'd make-uh, have sex.

He didn't ask me to marry him, but each night I went to bed in his arms (happily content, thank you very much) and mulled the idea over in my mind. I still broke out in a cold sweat, and I still wanted to vomit. Just not as badly as before.

I wasn't the marrying kind of gal. Royce had never done anything to deserve my distrust, but still, doubts were stubborn things. Royce was a man. A beautiful, virile man desired by legions. Women of every age went crazy for him. And I had to wonder how long his fascination with me would last. One month? Two? Or until after vows were spoken?

Was happily-ever-after truly possible? I just didn't know. Before, I would have said hell no. Now… Mel and Colin were dating, much to Kera's glee. Mel had been unable to resist him that night at the club, and now they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Would they last, though?

After breakfast with the twins, I'd climbed in this cab and was now headed toward Powell Aeronautics. Royce had offered me the use of one of his cars, but I hadn't accepted. I was holding part of myself back, determined to depend on him as little as possible. I'd buy a car soon, and then there'd be no need to borrow his.

When the cab stopped, I stepped onto the sidewalk and removed my sunglasses. The sun beat down, blinding me for a moment. I blinked rapidly, adjusting to the light, and pushed into motion. Like a steady heartbeat, my high heels thumped with every step I took. The security guard, Johnny, knew me by sight now and let me pass without a qualm.

Upstairs, Elvira, Mistress of the Damned, was boxing her belongings, and a tall, lanky, very feminine man was unboxing his. Today, Elvira wore a clean-lined black suit. Her hair was slicked back in its usual twist, but though she wore a bit more makeup than usual, she looked paler than ever.

Her lips pinched together when she spotted me. I wouldn't have been surprised if her nails elongated like a cat's. "What's going on?" I asked.

"I've been relocated," she said stiffly. "As I'm sure you planned."

"I'm taking her place," the man said, excitement bubbling from him as he fingered the necklace hanging around his neck.

He had painted his nails pink. Smiling, he held out his hand and we shook. "I'm Weston Cross. Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you." He tapped a finger to his glossed lips. "You're Naomi, right?"

"Yes.'"

"I recognize the lips."

My features crinkled with my confusion. Royce had transferred Elvira and brought in an obviously gay man? For me? I couldn't help it. I grinned. What a darling, wonderful man.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Elvira snapped. "So what if you won this round. Royce will hire me back when Idiot Cross messes everything up."

"Look, Elvira," I said, and she gasped. "Royce is never going to be yours. Deal with it."

She hissed.

Weston clucked under his tongue. "Should I ring security and have you escorted out, Elvira?"

Scowling, she grabbed her box and stormed out of the office.

"You're my hero," Weston said, grinning over at me. "Mr. Powell told me to let you go in without notice if you ever came up. So go on. Go in."

Practically floating, I entered Royce's office.

Royce glanced up from his desk when he saw me. He smiled in welcome, radiating warmth. "Naomi. What a pleasant surprise."

"As if you didn't know I'd stop by," I said dryly. "You're the one who programmed the BlueJay, gifting me with such a harmonious reminder that we were meeting today."