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The wrong thing to say and he knew it the moment the words passed his lips. Unfortunately, there was no way to call them back.
Diane smiled back at him sweetly as she stepped across the room, and Lawe couldn’t help but watch her warily. She was damned well trained and quick as hell and he knew it.
But she didn’t move for him. Attacking him obviously wasn’t on the agenda tonight. At least, not yet.
Watching him warily Diane moved past the bottom of the bed, keeping her gaze on him, her body tense and ready to run as she moved to the backpack lying on the mattress.
One hand stayed knotted in the towel cove
ring her. If wishes alone could rip it from her body, then it would have already been lying on the ground in shreds.
Nearly holding his breath he watched, his gaze centered where she held the towel securely. He wished it from her body, every muscle in his body tensing as he willed her to drop the material and give him a glimpse of that perfect, beautiful flesh.
The head of his dick throbbed¸ pounding furiously beneath the material of his jeans as he felt his balls drawing tight to the base of the thickened shaft in the need for release. Just beneath the engorged crown of his erection, the flesh seemed to stretch tighter, hotter as it pulsed in need.
The barb was there, stretching just enough to assure him of its presence. To assure him that this woman was indeed his mate.
Beneath his tongue the glands that held the mating hormone was swollen as it throbbed, ached. The need to push his tongue into her mouth and demand she engage in the sensual, heated kiss that would spill the hormone to her senses, was overwhelming.
“Stop looking at me like that.” The demand was made as the scent of her arousal began to intoxicate him, to fill his senses and the glands beneath his tongue with the mating hormone.
The confrontation she seemed determined to initiate wasn’t helping, and neither was the fact that those were clothes she was pulling from her bag.
Yoga pants, a T-shirt, panties that were little more than a triangle of silk.
Gripping the clothing in one hand, keeping her death grip on the towel with the other, she moved to skirt around the bottom of the bed and, Lawe knew, to return to the bathroom to dress.
He stepped in her way, blocking her escape as effectively as steel bars as he ensured she would have to make close, personal, intimate contact with his body to get by him.
She stared back at him warily as she paused at the bottom of the bed.
“That’s the hell of it where these little rooms are concerned.” He glanced around the small cheap hotel room as he allowed a rueful grin to tug at his lips. “Two people can’t move around it at the same time without brushing or even stroking against one another. Whereas the more expensive suites that most Breeds prefer have plenty of room to move around and avoid contact, if that’s what they wish.”
As he spoke, he crouched down, one knee on the floor and the other bent as he loosened the laces of the combat ankle boots he wore.
She eyed him warily now, a hint of desperation filling her gaze as he shifted to the other boot, loosened it, then straightened and pulled each off.
“What the hell are you doing?” she gasped out, knowing full well exactly what he was doing. And her body knew. She could feel her sex growing wetter, hotter, flushing the sensitive folds and causing her clit to swell tighter.
“You ran from me, Diane,” he growled as he pulled the thin, black temperature control socks from his feet. Then his hands moved to the utility belt of his pants, his fingers working it loose.
Breeds had different growls for different emotions: irritation, aggravation, an angry growl, a furious growl. And then there was this growl. It rumbled deep with lazy, hungry intent. This one echoed through her nerve endings and caused her vagina to clench as she swore the sound echoed in her tender depths.
“And I’ll run away from you again.” She swallowed tightly as she defied him, nervously, her grip on the towel tightening until her knuckles turned white. “I’m not your puppet, Lawe.”
“You’re my mate.” He heard the growl in his own voice, hated himself for the primal dominance that vibrated in his voice.
“I’m not yours to control nor did you purchase a shining new toy you can sit on the shelf until you decide to play with it.”
If her pussy wasn’t heated, flowing with the sweet, soft juices he was dying to taste, then Lawe might have paid attention to that hint of desperation in her voice. The apparent fear of his touch, of the mating heat, and he would have forced himself to turn away.
It wasn’t fear despite the appearance of it, though. He smelled desperation, hunger, confusion. She wanted him; she ached for him with the same clawing hunger that he ached for her and that was all the animal rising inside him recognized.
They were dying for each other, yet she thought she could run and he wouldn’t give chase?
The animal DNA inside him demanded he do just that. That he give chase. That he become the hunter, the dominant force that would bind her to him.
What made her believe she could place herself in danger and he wouldn’t stand in front of her? That he wouldn’t protect her with every last ounce of strength that he possessed? That he wouldn’t give his life and the life of every Breed ever created to see to her safety, to the continuation of her.
