Royal Guard Tiger (Shifter Kingdom Book 2) Read online

  “I invited you to my hotel room,” Tristan pointed out.

  “I dared you to share the bed,” Poppy returned. “You’re the kind of guy who totally would have slept on the floor or in the other room if I hadn’t made it pretty clear I wanted you here.”

  Something hot and dark flashed through Tristan’s eyes, and he looked down as he said, “Don’t ever doubt that I want to be here, Poppy. I know am not... expressive, but. Please don’t doubt that.”

  Poppy swallowed hard, feeling an answering heat flare in her body, mingled strangely with the urge to pull Tristan into her arms and promise that she would never think badly of him just because he wasn’t all smiles and flirty talk.

  “Anyway,” she said, keeping still with an effort. She wasn’t going to rush him. “What I really meant is... if you meant to take it slow, then you meant to... to stick around for a while.”

  Tristan looked up at that and met her eyes. “Yes. As long as it takes.”

  Poppy’s heart beat faster, and she squirmed under his intense look, pressing her thighs together and rocking her hips irresistibly. “You don’t do anything without being really, really serious about it, do you?”

  Tristan smiled, showing his teeth for the first time. It looked a little predatory, and she couldn’t decide if it looked like he was out practice at smiling or if that was just exactly how he felt. “I don’t.”

  Poppy bit her lip. “I’m not... not good at sticking with things for the long haul. Always on the move.”

  Tristan’s smile vanished into blankness so fast she almost thought she’d imagined it. “I had guessed that.”

  Poppy raised her eyebrows, fighting not to laugh. Sherlock Holmes, incoming. “How could you tell?”

  Tristan tilted his head. “American in London with no particular responsibilities but without the attitude to suggest that you expect your family, or your family’s money, to solve any problem you run into. Staying in a hostel and carrying what looks like everything you own in a well-traveled pack. And you weren’t at all impressed by my measly few passport stamps.”

  Poppy laughed, clapping her hand over her mouth as she did. She didn’t want to insult him, but it was true, of course. She probably had ten times as many stamps as Tristan did, almost all of them acquired in just over a year.

  Tristan shook his head a little, but his smile faded quickly, and Poppy had no desire to laugh at his seriousness.

  “Is that how you prefer things?” He asked quietly. “Changing all the time, never staying with one...”

  Poppy shook her head hard before she could summon the words. “I think I... I just don’t know how. Or I just never had anybody else who would stay in one place for me. With me.”

  Tristan said nothing, just watching her with his serious gaze that defied the amber-brightness of his eyes.

  “You would, though, wouldn’t you?” Poppy said, unable to look away. “If I told you I needed a week, or a month, or—or a year. You would wait, and when I came back to find you, you would be right here.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to resist following you, if you made me wait a whole year,” Tristan said. “But I wouldn’t press you, or try to make you change your mind. I would just... need to see you, now and then. Hear your voice, catch your scent in the air.”

  Logically, Poppy knew that that translated to I would definitely stalk you if you left me, but she couldn’t feel any fear, even then. She knew what Tristan was saying, and what he wasn’t. I would follow you to the end of the earth. I would be there for you if you needed me, wherever there might be.

  But still he was keeping his distance, demanding nothing. Keeping himself under control.

  “Why don’t you come and catch my scent right here, then,” Poppy said, crooking one finger as she spoke.

  She saw the muscle work in Tristan’s jaw when he looked away. It was costing him some effort to restrain himself, to take it slow, to be careful and responsible.

  Poppy wasn’t having any of that. She reached down and tugged her loose t-shirt up. She barely had it off, her hands over her head and wrists crossed, when Tristan was right there, leaning over her and kissing her.

  One of his hands curled gently around her wrists, pressing them to the padded headboard, and she knew that as soft as his grip might seem, she wouldn’t be able to break it if she tried.

  His mouth was hot and demanding on hers, and Poppy opened to him without hesitation, her legs parting at the same time so that he could move closer between them. His free hand found her breast, cupping it and stroking his thumb over her nipple, and Poppy moaned against his lips as he licked into her. She squirmed under him, feeling the strength of his body over her as he held her there, kissing her thoroughly and teasing her breasts.

  When he let up so she could breathe, Poppy only had time to gasp before he was kissing her again, his hand roaming over her body everywhere except where she wanted it the most. She curled her legs up until her feet were at his waist, and she got one toe into the waistband of his boxers and started trying to push them down.

  Tristan pulled back to suck in a breath. He squeezed his hand around her wrists as his other hand cupped her breast again. “Let me, Poppy.”

  “Not if you’re going to take it slow,” Poppy insisted, even though she was still panting herself.

  Tristan kissed her again, so hard her lips felt bruised and she couldn’t think of anything past the heat of his mouth claiming hers, his body close but just out of reach.

  “I’m not taking it,” he murmured in her ear, his voice so low and rough it was nearly a growl, sending shivers down her spine and making her hotter and wetter than ever at her core. “I’m taking you, and I’m going to take you right.”

  Poppy moaned at that, wrapping her legs around his waist and arching toward him, wordlessly begging for him to take as much of her as he wanted, now. Tristan rocked a little, letting her get the barest touch of his hardness through her pants and his boxers. As soon as she felt it she knew she needed him inside her, pulses of wet heat surging between her thighs, but Tristan kept on kissing and teasing until she was whimpering with need.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Tristan drew back from kissing to pull her down the bed, laying her flat on her back with her wrists pressed to the mattress above her head.

  “Are you going to be still,” Tristan growled, “or do I have to keep holding you here?”

  Poppy felt like her brain melted a little from the heat in his voice, and she nodded as she moaned.

  Tristan showed his teeth. “That wasn’t a yes or no question, my—Poppy. But I think I know what you mean.”

  “Please,” Poppy managed. That wasn’t an answer either, but Tristan didn’t argue, just started kissing his way down her throat. Both of his hands settled over her breasts, covering them completely and drawing more pleasure from the touch than she had ever felt before.

  “Yes,” she gasped, as his mouth followed his hands, his tongue flicking at one hard nipple. “Yes, Tristan, please.”

  Tristan’s hands slid down, fingers tucking into the top of her yoga pants, and Poppy tried to wriggle helpfully, only to have her hips pressed down firmly into the mattress. Her eyes flashed open at the show of strength, and she moaned, squirming more just to feel how he held her there, firmly but without hurting her at all.

  She knew, distantly, that if she could just hold still he would do what she wanted, but she needed him too much, needed to do something. Her hands were clutching the pillows, trying to keep still, but she couldn’t make her body stop moving, seeking more of his touch.

  “I can’t,” she gasped. “Tristan, please, I can’t, I can’t stop.”

  He moved immediately, his hands coming up to frame her face as he kissed her, his hips settling between her thighs as he rocked against her, holding her pinned in place. Now she could feel how hard he was, and knew that he needed her just as much as she needed him, no matter how he was trying to do this right.

  His kisses we
re soft, almost soothing, a gentle contrast to their hips grinding together.

  “All right,” he whispered. “All right, Poppy. Maybe another time we’ll go slow. When we don’t need it so much.”

  “So like, thirty, forty years,” Poppy gasped, and she saw the bright flash of Tristan’s teeth before he was moving again, moving down her body as he tugged her yoga pants off.

  She’d already forgotten what she had said when Tristan murmured, “I’ll put it on the calendar,” and then her pants were all the way off, and Tristan was kneeling between her thighs. As he looked down at her, Poppy abruptly found out that she could hold perfectly still after all.

  She hadn’t exactly planned on this; she really hadn’t done this much at all, especially not this spontaneously. Her thighs were covered with fine faint down where she hadn’t bothered shaving all the way up, and the puff of dark red curls between her legs was decidedly untamed.

  “Red all over, huh,” Tristan murmured, looking up at her, and Poppy groaned as she remembered her flippant remark. She felt the heat in her skin flaring hotter, and knew that she was flushing a brighter pink from her forehead to her chest.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Poppy gasped and opened her eyes at a light, delicate touch between her legs.

  “You’re beautiful.” Tristan’s fingers stroked the outer lips of her, damp and sensitive with need. “Lovely. Just as you are. Just Poppy.”

  Poppy spread her legs wider, begging without words, and his fingertips dipped further in, finding her wet hot core and teasing the opening there. Even his fingers would be bigger than anything she’d had inside her lately, and Poppy was ready, panting for it. When he did press inside, slowly and gently, his touch was everything she had needed, a delicious hot stretch that made her moan and lift her hips for more.

  “Yes,” she gasped, “Tristan—”

  She reached for him, sinking her fingers into the silky black curls of his hair, and he moved up to kiss her again, his fingers stroking deeper and deeper inside her. His thumb circled over her mound, giving her just the right pressure to push up against as he drove her wild, and his kisses were quick and sweet.

  The pleasure built and built, and Tristan kept up a relentless pace, never letting her catch her breath. She was gasping and clinging to him when the storm of sensation broke over her, and she cried out again and again as her climax overwhelmed her senses.

  When she finally came down from it, Tristan slipped his fingers free, resting his hand on her hip as he kissed her more deeply. She let that go on for a little while, then pushed him back. Her arms were like noodles, but Tristan let himself be moved, propping himself over her on one arm.

  “How are you still wearing clothes?” Poppy demanded. “Come on, it’s your turn.”

  “Not very many clothes,” Tristan pointed out, but he sat up when she gave him another floppy-armed nudge. “But, as you are so impatient, of course.”

  Poppy folded her arms behind her head at that, trying to sprawl languidly instead of looking like she was still trying to remember how her muscles worked. Tristan peeled out of his shirt and shoved down his boxers, and stayed sitting beside her for a moment, letting her look her fill.

  He was gorgeous from head to toe, tall and lean with obvious strength in every inch of his body. His brown skin gleamed in the low, golden light, and his amber eyes gleamed. His erection jutted up against his belly, darker than the rest of his skin, beautiful and thick with desire—all for her.

  “Come here,” Poppy said, keeping her arms folded behind her head, her legs spread where she was wet and sensitive and already hungry for more. For him. “I don’t think you’ve taken nearly enough of me yet.”

  “Well,” he murmured, moving to brace himself over her, one hand stroking over the swell of her hip. “I shall have to rectify that, hm?”

  Poppy nodded, reaching up to curl one hand around his neck. He leaned down for another kiss, and another, his body settling lower over hers until she could feel the hard length of him against her belly. She tried to squirm up under him, to get them lined up properly, but Tristan moved every time she did, so they were migrating across the bed without Poppy ever getting Tristan quite where she wanted him. She would have argued, but she couldn’t quite stop kissing him, and the feeling of his body braced above hers, all that strength held so carefully in check, was a pleasure of its own.

  Then Tristan moved above her, reaching for something. Poppy turned her head to see what it was, and Tristan held up a little foil square between two fingers. “Would you like to help move things along, or hold still and watch?”

  Poppy reached for his hand at the same time it occurred to her that her experience getting condoms onto men she found this maddeningly attractive was... nonexistent. She let her hand fall against the pillow.

  “I’ll watch.”

  Tristan smiled widely and gave her a quick, soft kiss. “Be still and don’t distract me, then.”

  Poppy stuck her tongue out, but she flung her other hand out and let her legs flop on the bed. Tristan got up on his knees and tore the condom packet open, and Poppy couldn’t look at anything but his erection as he stroked it, first with his bare hand, then rolling down the condom over it. As soon as it was in place, she wriggled, tilting her hips up and lifting her knees.

  Tristan shook his head with a stern look that she knew was teasing even as it sent a hot little thrill down her spine. He lowered himself over her again, his fingers slipping between her thighs to press inside. Poppy let her eyes close as he stroked her, and she felt herself getting wetter again, ready to welcome him.

  Then Tristan’s fingers withdrew, and she felt the blunt, hot pressure of him pressing inside her. She gasped, and Tristan was there, kissing her cheek, nuzzling at her temple, and all the time pushing deeper into her, filling her up so exquisitely.

  “Oh, oh, Tristan,” Poppy gasped. It all felt new, as if she’d never done this the way she was with him, as if it was something different, something more, with this man. “That’s so good, you’re so—”

  He covered her mouth with his, kissing her quiet as he moved fully inside her. He was still for a moment, and she tipped her head back to breathe, adjusting to the feeling of him so deep within her. She bit her lip, holding back all the things it was way too soon to say, no matter how serious Tristan was, no matter how much she wanted it to be true.

  “My Poppy,” Tristan murmured, when she couldn’t say anything at all. He kissed her gently, again and again, as he started to move. “You feel like you were made for me. Is it the same for you?”

  His accent was heavier, she noticed, and she smiled up at him and wondered if she could drive him to forget to speak English altogether. She rolled her hips, moaning as she did it for the delicious feel of him moving inside her, touching every secret sweet spot.

  “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear. “Is it good for you, my Poppy? My sweet?”

  “Better than good.” Poppy moved again, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before Tristan took over again. “Best. Best ever. It’s never been like this before.”

  “Of course not.” Tristan’s hand tightened on her hip, tilting her to a slightly different angle, and then he started to move. Poppy was quickly lost in bliss, but she didn’t miss the fact that Tristan started speaking some other language right around then, sweet-sounding words she couldn’t understand. But the sound of his voice told her everything she needed to know, and as he picked up speed his voice deepened into a growl again.

  Poppy put her hands above her head, clutching the pillow and surrendering herself utterly to her lover. Tristan really growled at that, a wordless sound that vibrated through her whole body as he thrust inside her, finding just the right angle to set off fireworks through her whole body.

  She had no idea how long it went on, the pleasure turning her whole body molten and her mind a whirl of sensation. Tristan kept asking her something in his language that she didn’t understand, and she cried out a wordless answer t
hat felt like the truth. He kissed her hard, then, thrusting deep inside her, and she tipped over the edge into another climax.

  This one seemed to go on and on with Tristan still moving within her, until he went still and quiet, and she felt the throbbing of his hardness inside her as he came. She lay gasping for a while, letting her brain reassemble itself. Her body felt like it was lit up from the inside, like amber shining in sunlight.

  Tristan shifted away from her, just enough to turn off the light, and then curled himself around her, tucking her close to the warmth of his naked body. They could still strike sparks, she thought, half-tempted to go again, even though the darkness and her exhaustion was dragging her under. Even tired as she was she could feel a certain unsatisfied desire thrumming between them. Once hadn’t been enough. There wouldn’t ever be enough.

  She never wanted to leave this spot. She never wanted to go anywhere else at all. When she heard the faint, distant buzz of her phone, she snuggled into Tristan’s arms, telling herself, I’ll look at it in the morning.

  *~*~*

  Chapter 6 - Poppy

  Poppy woke up already out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She stopped, looking around in the not-quite-complete darkness, because there was too much room around her; for a moment she couldn’t hear anyone else nearby at all, and then she looked back toward the bed and saw Tristan lying there.

  He pushed up on one elbow and she grinned, remembering—not-exactly-secret agent, posh hotel—and shook her head at him, gesturing toward the bathroom. He nodded, and she had the sense of a smile in it though it was too dark to read his barely-there expressions. But the sooner she got on with what she’d gotten up for, the sooner she could be back in bed with him.

  She hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door before she considered the light switches. Then she remembered that her phone was on the bathroom counter, and she hit the button to light that up instead, creating enough glow so she could do what she’d come in for.