Lair of the Lion

bloodstream. His lips moved against hers, a slow teasing of senses, awakening her to a world of sensuality. His teeth tugged at her lower lip, an enticement she couldn't resist. She opened her mouth to him. Opened her heart to him. He swept in, masculine, possessive, a fire and a whirlwind consuming her. Her knees actually weakened, and her fingers grasped the marble table for anchor while the storm raged through her.
    Liquid heat spread, an aching need, curling and throbbing within her.

    Isabella dragged herself away from him, horrified at her own behavior, shocked that she wanted to fling herself into his arms. She was very aware they were alone in a room, far from anyone else. The door was closed, and the tapers gave off meager light. She was wearing only a thin gown and dressing robe. Her hair was hanging down her back in a wild and wanton fashion. She wanted him with a desperation she had never known before.
    Struggling to control her breathing, Isabella lowered her lashes to veil the expression in her eyes. She looked away from him, unable to meet the intensity of the stark desire burning in his amber gaze. She glanced down at the huge tome with its elaborate scripts, then down at the polished marble—anywhere to avoid his piercing eyes. Her gaze fell on the back of his hand, where he was leaning his palm on the table. Only it was a huge paw.
    The biggest paw she had ever seen. Intrigued, Isabella bent closer to inspect the five retractable, hooklike claws. The fur was dark and soft. Without conscious thought she stroked a caress over the fur, burying her fingers in the richness. The texture seemed real and more beautiful than she had imagined. Amazed, she looked up to meet Nicolai's strangely colored eyes. At once she realized she was pinning his hand to the table, still immersed in her strange illusion, her fingers caressing his skin.
    Color crept up her neck and flooded her face. She snatched her hand away and cradled it against her, holding the warmth of his skin to her heart. "I'm sorry, Signor DeMarco, I don't know what got into me." First she had allowed him to be familiar with her, and then she had touched him intimately. What must he think of her?
    "If you were again to agree to become my bride, Isabella," Nicolai said softly, his voice whispering along her skin like a purr, "then there would be no need to be embarrassed over the showing of affection."
    She lifted her chin, arching a dark eyebrow at him. "Show of affection? I beg to differ with you, signore. It was merely curiosity—it overcomes me at the most inopportune times.
    A small failing I do my utmost to master."
    A smile tugged at the hard edges of his mouth. "Curiosity, was it? I hope that I satisfied you, but I would be most willing to continue the experiment should you agree to become my wife."
    "I appreciate your sacrifice," Isabella said, her eyes sparkling with laughter. "As for agreeing to be your wife, I have done so once and was treated abominably." She made an attempt at looking pathetic. "As I am a female, weak and rather nervous…"
    "Ah, the fainting type?" Nicolai supplied helpfully.
    "Yes," she lied. "I'm not certain my poor nerves could withstand the strain of such a husband."
    He rubbed his shadowed jaw thoughtfully. "I must confess I didn't consider your…
    nerves. Still, I think we may get around the problem if we're careful."

    He looked so young and handsome, so completely tantalizing, Isabella felt a curious melting sensation in the region of her heart. He tempted her in so many ways. She felt rather like a moth drawn to the flames. "Is there a specific number of times you intend to drive me from the palazzo? I think I'll need the answer to that question before I give consideration to your marriage proposal."
    Nicolai shoved a hand carelessly through his hair. Unexpectedly, he winced and quickly dropped his arm to his side. "I believe the one time was enough, Isabella. I am certain it will not happen again."
    "You're hurt." She hurried around the table and caught his arm. "Let me see."
    Nicolai went completely still at the touch of her fingers. "This is what you want, Isabella? It is possible you will learn things about me you might not wish to know."
    "I already know things about you I don't wish to know." Her eyes smiled at him, soft and generous if a little shy.
    Nicolai reached out, framed her face gently, his thumbs sliding over her skin with exquisite tenderness. "You have not begun to know me, Isabella. I do