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press of his fingers this time, not a brush. She sucked in a breath, her eyes closing as she waited for it to pass. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he lifted her until she was positioned just right . . . and began to rub himself against her in slow, grinding circles. She almost screamed. And then his fingers were on her again and she did scream.
    Â * * * 
    E mmett caught Ria’s scream with his mouth as he continued to tease her with his body—torturing himself in the process. But the scent of her damp heat, it was pure ambrosia. He wanted to sit her down—no,
lay
her down—on a sprawling playground of a bed, spread her thighs wide and taste. His cock pulsed, the leopard’s hunger threatening to overwhelm the man’s control.
    Fighting the urge to tear off her sweats, he concentrated on driving her over the edge of pleasure. He hadn’t needed her to tell him—he’d known instinctively that Ria wasn’t a woman who took sex casually. He’d have to coax her into his bed. Taking her against the scarred door of a basement gym was hardly going to reassure her that her pleasure mattered to him. Mattered enough that when her body tightened, he grit his teeth and stroked her through the orgasm.
    Her fingernails dug into his shoulders through his T-shirt—he wished like hell he’d taken the damn thing off. He wanted those marks on his skin, wanted to know she’d put them there.
Next time
, he promised the cat.
Next time.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, nuzzling at her neck as she shuddered against him, her body going limp. “Pretty and soft and beautiful.”
And mine.
The leopard bared its teeth at the thought, even as the man bit back a rawly possessive smile.
    Finally shifting his hold from the gorgeous curve of her butt, he ran his hands up her sides as he kissed and petted her through the aftershocks of pleasure. Her eyes were still a little unfocused when she said, “Put me down.” It was an order.
    The leopard snarled, but he did as asked. She pressed her hands flat against the door and looked up at him. “You’re . . .” Color streaked across her cheekbones.
    He gave her a smile that he knew held a distinctly savage edge. “I’m thinking I want lots and lots of time when I slide into you.”
    â€œAre all cats as arrogant as you?”
    He shrugged and leaned in close. “I’m the only cat you need to be thinking about.”
    Â * * * 
    R ia couldn’t
not
think about Emmett. That night, as she sat across from her parents at the dinner table, she kept finding herself drifting off in the middle of conversations. Emmett’s scent seemed to have become locked in her brain. She was fantasizing about burying her face in his neck, his strong body hard and taut against hers when Alex’s voice penetrated.
    â€œRia!”
    Jumping, Ria met her mother’s eyes, hoping the guilt didn’t show. “Sorry, what did you say?”
    â€œTom’s popping by for coffee tonight. Why don’t you change into a dress?”
    Ria’s fingers turned to iron around her chopsticks. Enough, she thought. And strangely, it had nothing to do with Emmett. Perhaps he’d pushed her to this point faster, but she’d always been walking toward it. “Mom,” she said, putting down the abused chopsticks, “I have no interest whatsoever in Tom.”
    Utter silence.
    Simon was the one to break it. “What’s gotten into you, Ria? You and Tom grew up together—he knows you. He’ll make a good husband.” The tone of his voice said the matter was settled.
    Ria looked into her father’s face. “I love you, Dad, but not even for you will I marry a man who thinks I should be patted on the head once in a while and put in the corner like a good little girl the rest of the time.”
    White lines bracketed Simon’s mouth. “That boy’s only ever treated you with