Chapter Seven

Uh oh.

This was not happening. So not fucking happening.

Maybe the fucking can happen?

She scolded her she-Tiger—the feline was horny as an old goat, for fuck’s sake. But this was not the night of meaningless sex Elissa had told her to enjoy. This was something else.

Panic filled her chest as she listened to the man approach and heard him inhale deeply. A sexy little growl played in his throat, making her crazy with lust. Her pulse raced as he inched closer, and the woodsy scent clinging to his custom tux made her want to rub herself all over it.

Mate.

Gulp.

Keep it down, kitty. He is not for us.

Yes, he is. Mate, her she-Tiger growled insistently.

“Holy forking fart balls of fire,” she huffed one of Paulie’s favorite non-curses.

“Pardon?” the male asked, eyebrow raised and a stupidly handsome grin quirking one corner of his mouth up.

She wanted to reach up and lick him right there. Shit. She was so screwed.

“Nothing,” she muttered, trying to compose herself.