“That’s it,” I growl. Time to stop being a coward.
Unfurling my wings, I fly to her level. Instead of molding onto the building in my nightly perch, I land on the intricate branches. Pausing only for a steeling breath, I rap my knuckles on the glass.
For a moment, I think she might leave me out here. Hope she will, even. Then there’s movement inside. A cat rubs against the window, causing the curtain to flap.
A cat! That’s all it was. How foolish—
Ari appears with a gentle gasp parting her cherry lips. Before opening the door, she pauses with a hand over her mouth and I ache against the need to groan, to growl at her tomove her hand this instant. My fists flex, but her voice sends an overwhelming torrent of emotions crashing over me.
“Yes? I mean,” Ari opens the door a little further, leaning through the gap in a way that highlights the ample swell of her bosom. “Hello.”
Chapter Three
Grogoth
“Hello.” my answer is more gruff than I’d meant it to be. I try again. “Hello. I’m Grogoth.”
“The gardener.”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Did you water the plants?”
“Oh no, did I overwater them?” The color drains from her cheeks to shade the skin of her neck and chest, and I have to rip my gaze from her inviting cleavage.
“No!” I bark, causing her to jump. Frustrated, I run a hand up my forehead to the chipped spot on the back of my left horn. “Come to dinner with me sometime.”
The fear on her face turns to shock, that enticing shade of pink coloring her cheeks once more. But then she laughs, and my surface nearly cracks.
“I would love to, Grogoth, but. . .” She trails off, her lip slipping between her teeth.
She already has a mate. Of course she does. How could I have thought otherwise? I step back, turning to leave. Over my shoulder, I say, “I understand.”
“Wait!” her slender hand, warm as a ray of sunlight, catches my forearm. I allow her to steer me around, our bodies so close on the small balcony that I feel her breath against my pec. I never realized quite how short she is. She’s short. Small and lithe with generous curves and wavy brown hair, the top of her head is below my chin.
“Yes?” I prompt. I guide her chin up and stare into her glistening hazel eyes.
“Erm, I meant, don’t leave.” Feather-soft fingers tentatively graze my chest. I cover them with my own, warmth radiating through my every grain. “I’m in the middle of making dinner. Join me?”
“Yes.”
Claim her. Before I can combat the intrusive thought, I've already scooped her up. She yelps but quickly threads her arms around my neck. The heat between her thighs presses firmly against my navel, confirming what my wildest dreams thought was never possible. She wants me.
I drag in a deep breath, hungry for the source of the fragrant scent. My grip on her thighs tightens and I let out a low groan. “Smells delicious.”
“Really? Thank you! It’s the last recipe in my grandmother’s cookbook.”
She shimmies out of my grasp as I struggle to keep up with her words. It hits me that she's talking about an entirely different smell. Dinner, probably. I sniff the air again and hone in on the scent of roasted meat.
“Okapi?”
“Yep. I had to go to the inter-territorial market for this dish. Seared flame okapi. It’s a Fyre delicacy.”
“Indeed.”
Neither of us speaks, locked in what feels like a lusty staring contest. Another inhale brings her sweet scent to my nostrils and my eyes flutter closed, my hand instinctively reaching for the bulge in my trousers. Thesight of her worrying her bottom lip squanders my control.
“Oh!” she yelps as I scoop her close. I dip low and breathe deeply, her ambrosial shampoo mingling with the bewitching scent of her arousal. She giggles, flattening her hands on my chest. “I haven’t even told you my name.”
“Ari.”
