A Tiger's Bride (A Lion's Pride Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

utter goddess when she danced in his arms. Even if they didn’t quite touch, heat radiated, burning him.
    Would he combust if there was nothing to separate their skin?
    Stripping not being conducive to the moment, he satisfied himself with tugging her close and placing his hands on her waist. Flush against him, she danced, still not as close as he’d like. His hands slid down until they cupped the sweet curve of her ass.
    Squeeze. A perfect fit in his palms.
    This close together, she couldn’t miss his desire. His erection pulsed and strained, it hinted, quite strongly, that they should find somewhere private so he could sheath himself within her. He wanted her naked, beneath him, her eyes closed and head tilted, her mouth rounded in panting pleasure. He wanted her creamy thighs wrapped around him, helping him to sink deep into her glorious body. He’d wager some of the same thoughts teased her as well, given her musky arousal swirled around him in a heady mix.
    She wants. She’s ours.
    He tilted her chin, but her gaze wouldn’t meet his.
    “Look at me, little kitten. See and feel how you affect me.” He pressed her as firmly as he could against him.
    She drew in a breath, peered up at him, and—
    Later he would blame all the blood in his brain that vacated for not recalling they were in a very public place, a place inhabited by his enemies who didn’t take too kindly to the liberties he took with a certain lady on the dance floor. Perhaps, had his dick left a little red stuff to power his mind, he would have also noticed a certain father bearing down on them with murder in his eyes.
    It was certainly his dick’s fault that the fist caught him square in the jaw. It didn’t fell him, but it certainly stung. Not that he rubbed it or said a word aloud. Men didn’t whine in public—they waited to tell their mother later so she could rant at length about the disrespect of peasants and plot ways to ruin them.
    But in this case, he didn’t need mother dear. And even better, he wouldn’t have to destroy Peter and thus mar the beginning of his new life with Teena. Not optimism. Fact. She would be his.
    Yet, why earn her ire by killing Peter when she seemed determined to berate her father on her own?
    “What are you doing?” she demanded as she placed herself between them.
    “Move out of the way, baby girl. I need to get that foreign furball to show you some respect.”
    “He was being a perfect gentleman, unlike certain meddling parents,” she snapped with a show of spirit Dmitri enjoyed and yet seemed to surprise her father.
    “He was mauling you.”
    “And I was enjoying it!”
    A sudden silence descended just as Teena shouted it. However, Dmitri could have applauded when, despite her red cheeks, she tilted her chin and remained facing her father.
    The big man looked flummoxed. “I was just looking out for you. He’s a no-good foreigner who’s just using you because he can’t have your sister.”
    Oooh. That stung.
    Dmitri didn’t need to hear Teena’s indrawn breath to know the words hurt. Teena spun on her heel and marched off.
    Peter appeared dumbstruck, but only for a moment, before he took off after her. “Baby girl, I didn’t mean it like that. You know you’re perfect.”
    As Dmitri watched them stalk away, he noted it was probably prudent not to follow. Let Teena hash it out with her father. While he waited for them to complete their spat, Dmitri could bask in the fact that she’d stood up for them.
    Them. As in a duo. How astonishing that, in his pursuit of one woman, he’d found the one he was truly meant to be with.
    Now to convince her of that fact.
    Luna returned, probably with a new plan to thwart him or an insult tailored for him. Her verbal attacks made him nostalgic for home. “I’ll call you a liar if you tell this to her dad, but you guys were kind of cute dancing together. I mean there were a couple of incidents, like when Teena accidentally tripped the dude coming to cut in on