"I'm more excited to watch you in action during the competition," he said, then felt his jaw tighten with protective instincts. "But I also worry about you."
Riley's eyebrows rose. "It's just a regional competition. Those aren't that tough. I'm not worried."
God, her confidence was sexy.
The way she dismissed the danger with casual competence, as if she could handle anything the world threw at her. It made his tiger purr with satisfaction—his mate was strong enough to stand beside him, fierce enough to defend herself, and independent enough that choosing him would mean something.
Adrian set down his water bottle and took a step closer, drawn by the growing force of the mate bond. "I'm really looking forward to working with you these next four days."
Riley's smile transformed her face, softening the sharp edges and revealing the woman beneath the warrior. "It should be fun and eye-opening."
The words hung between them, loaded with possibility and promise. Adrian felt the air in the small office grow thick with tension, charged with the same electricity that had sparked from their first handshake.
Then Riley moved, closing the remaining distance between them with that same decisive grace she brought to everything.
When her lips met his, the world exploded into sensation.
The kiss was everything—desperate, hungry, passionate, intense, so absolutelyrightthat Adrian's carefully constructed control shattered like glass. He should pull back. Should remember his promise not to rush her, not to force the bond. But she'd initiated this, and her mouth was soft and demanding against his, and his tiger roared its approval.
Instead of stepping away, Adrian deepened the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pulled her closer. Riley melted against him with a soft sound that nearly undid him completely, her hands fisting in his sweat-dampened shirt.
Adrian's world narrowed to the soft heat of Riley's mouth against his, the taste of her, and the roaring approval of his tiger. Every rational thought about pacing, about waiting, burned away in the furnace of her kiss. This was dangerous, glorious territory, and every cell in his body screamed that he was exactly where he belonged.
Her fingers found the hem of his sweat-soaked shirt, pushing it up his torso. Adrian broke the kiss to pull the fabric over his head and toss it aside. The cool office air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her gaze as it swept over him.Her eyes darkened, the warm brown deepening to something molten, as she traced the lines of his chest and the defined ridges of his abdomen with her fingers.
Then her attention caught on the black-and-orange ink wrapping his right bicep. Her fingertips brushed over the intricate design, tracing the tiger stripes interwoven with the sharp angles of his family's lineage sigil.
"This is… intense," she murmured, her voice husky. "I didn't take you for the tattoo type."
"It's not decoration." The words came out roughened, the memory of the needle's bite and the grief that drove him to it surfacing for a fleeting second. "It's a reminder."
Her eyes lifted to his, searching. Whatever she saw there—the discipline, the pain, the permanence—only seemed to stoke the fire in her own gaze. Her desire spiked, the scent of it flooding his senses, sweet and intoxicating. His tiger surged against his control, a visceral push to claim and to seal her to him right here in her office.
No marking. Not tonight.
The command to himself was a blade of ice in the inferno. He could have her, worship her, bring her pleasure until she screamed his name, but he would not sink his claws into her skin. That choice had to be hers, made with clear eyes.
The restraint was agony.
"Your turn," he growled softly.
He made quick, efficient work of her clothes. The sports bra was peeled away, revealing the exquisite strength of her torso, the perfect swell of her breasts, and her nipples already peaked and tight. His mouth watered. Her leggings and panties followed, pooled on the floor with a soft whisper of fabric. Then she was bare before him, every scar and muscle a testament to her strength, more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen.
A low rumble vibrated in his chest, purely animal. He guided her backward until the edge of her desk met her thighs. "Lie back."
She obeyed, the trust in that simple action sending a possessive thrill through him. He followed her down, bracing his hands on the worn wood on either side of her hips. He started at her neck, his mouth finding the frantic pulse there, kissing, nipping, licking a path down to her collarbone. She arched beneath him, a sharp gasp escaping her lips.
"Adrian…"
He moved lower, taking one taut peak into his mouth. He suckled deeply, lavishing attention with his tongue until she was writhing, her fingers tangling in his hair, not pushing him away but holding him closer.
"Please," she breathed, the word a broken plea.
He switched to her other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, learning what made her gasp, and what made her hips lift off the desk in silent demand. When her hand slid from his hair to push at his shoulder, guiding him downward, a feral grin touched his lips. He went willingly, kissing a blazing trail down the quivering plane of her stomach, over the hip bones that jutted sharply, until he settled on his knees between her splayed thighs.
The scent of her arousal was pure ambrosia, a fragrance that bypassed his human mind and spoke directly to the predator within. The sight of her, slick and glistening and open for him, made his own cock throb painfully against his shorts. He would taste her first. Claim her this way.
He didn't hesitate. He bent his head and took his first taste.