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ARILYN REFUSED TO SHOW fear. It wasn't the type of fear she'd experience if a stranger threatened her with violence. No, this was the uneasy, sick feeling in her stomach when she realized the man she was really attracted to was severely pissed off. At her.
What surprised her the most was the hard twist of excitement ramping her up. Her skin tingled, and an odd arousal pounded between her thighs. Was his anger turning her on? She'd heard about things like make-up sex, role play, and all sorts of darker kinds of sexual elements that intrigued her but she'd never experienced. Her lovers abhorred rough treatment or bringing negative emotions into the bedroom. She'd thought the same, though the occasional fantasy cropped up.
Now she was living one.
He practically oozed alpha male and sex. Jeans cupped his powerful thighs and rear, and the washed-out cotton of his hunter-green jersey clung to those meaty biceps and pecs. He glared with hot, dark eyes, devouring her with his gaze. Hands propped on hips. His full lips tightened to a thin line. His jaw locked. Stubble roughened his cheeks.
Her nipples rose and begged for attention. Arilyn squeezed the small, frightened dog a bit tighter for security. She needed to be calm and explain why he had made the right decision. He'd saved a dog's life, and Arilyn owed him gratitude. Now she just had to show him the danger was over and ease his temper.
Why, oh why had Stone found her? The plan was supposed to be simple. Arilyn never intended on kidnapping a dog. The intention was to scour the area one last time so she could find proof of an actual animal.
Until she found the Chihuahua.
Definitely abused. The poor thing lay in filth, with no water or food. She approached cautiously, ready for a giant pit bull or German shepherd to come out, but it seemed the doghouse had only one broken resident. The dog never moved, just stared at her with flat, emotionless eyes. Open sores bled on its starved body. She had no idea what the dog was being used for--it didn't seem like a breeder situation--and the breed was a bit small for a bait dog. But the dog served some purpose for its sick owner.
There was only one thing to do.
She climbed the gate. Blinking back tears, she slowly lifted the dog. A quick check confirmed it was female. When Arilyn cradled her against the warmth of her jacket, a shudder wracked the tiny body.
Arilyn had always felt an affinity for animals, and her parents loved taking care of a wide menagerie before her mom got sick. She'd grown up sharing her bed with dogs, cleaning up cat hair on a regular basis, and playing with reptiles at a young age. Connection with the creatures in God's world made her happy and helped her believe in something bigger. Like with children, an animal's soul was pure. There was a reason dogs were used for therapy and helped children with a variety of issues such as autism spectrum disorders. They reminded people of love, devotion, and the simplicity of giving.
The last Chihuahua she'd met was named Pinky. She had a pink glittery collar, wore pink ribbons in her hair, and walked with a haughty dignity that reminded every other dog she was a queen. Arilyn's heart squeezed at the broken creature in her arms. This dog deserved what Pinky had. Love and security made dogs confident. Maybe with Arilyn's help and the name of a dog who had been well loved to remind her she was worth everything, there'd be a glimmer of hope. Sometimes it started with the basics. Safe shelter. Food. A bath. A name. All the things both animals and humans deserved in this life.
"I'm gonna get you out of here, Pinky," she whispered. Then, tucking her close and zipping up her black jacket, she took her prize and jumped over the gate.
Right into Stone's path.
Arilyn refocused on the scene before her.
"Put down the dog."
He may be hot, and he may be pissed, but there was no way she was giving up Pinky. Besides being her protection, Arilyn wasn't sure how the dog was going to handle being in her home. "She needs some time to transition." The excuse sounded lame to her ears, and Stone didn't buy it either.
"Trust me. Pinky will be safer on the ground right now." His low growl reminded her of his intent to throttle her. Maybe this would be a great time to introduce some other skills to control anger management?
"Let me settle her on the dog bed." He didn't answer, so she took her time placing the dog down on a thick fuzzy mattress she kept in the corner. Arilyn grabbed two bowls, filling one with clean water and the other with dry dog food. She lay the bowls close to the bed.
The dog lay listlessly, staring into space. Her heart broke, but her next task was to get Stone Petty calm. She straightened up to full height, breathed from her belly, and reminded herself to radiate serenity. After all, she was his teacher.
"There. Better?" He lifted a brow. "This may be a good time to go over basics of anger management. Control your breath, control your life. Remember?"
He took a step closer. "Oh, I remember."
"Envision yourself bathed in a pool of white light, calming each nerve ending. Envision yourself in peace."
"Oh, I'm envisioning something right now."
Arilyn swallowed. He didn't look peaceful. He looked . . . hungry. She decided to try another tack before he closed the distance between them. If he caught her strange arousal, he'd use it to his advantage. She didn't need weaknesses regarding this particular cop.
"Listen, Stone." Her tongue tumbled over his name, knowing he preferred it to "Officer." She refused to admit how right the sound of his first name felt spilling from her lips. "I know you're upset and I know I broke the law. I never intended to steal Pinky, but in abuse cases, many times the organizations don't have enough time to get the current animals out. I made an impulsive decision."
The eyebrow lifted a bit higher. "You think?" he drawled. Primitive waves of masculine energy beat from his figure.
"Y-Yes. All I can say is thank you for not arresting me and letting me save her."
"Don't thank me just yet, little one. You may not like the price."
A shiver built in her belly and flooded her bloodstream. Heat rushed to her face. She forced a shaky laugh. "What do you mean? What price?"
Stone leaned in and spoke each word slow and deliberate. "Whatever price I choose to exact."
She couldn't have heard right, of course. Sounded like one of those dark romances Kennedy was always trying to make her read. Unease slithered through her. "Well, if you're thinking I'm going to be some kind of sex slave for you, you're crazy."
Her false smile slipped. He studied her with such depth and intensity, she knew right then he was seriously considering it. "Not a bad idea. But you'd need too much training."
Her body sprung to life and wept for him to try. Her brain shut down in pure horror. What was happening to her? It was like some kind of voodoo sex spell came over her when he got near. "Hardy har har. Look, do you want to blackmail me? Fine. I'll sign off on your classes if you force me to, but it's wrong. I'm begging you not to use me in that way. You need to learn the techniques, and I'll never forgive myself for giving in."
"Now you've made me really mad," he said softly. "What I should do is yank down those yoga pants and smack your ass for your insulting view on my character."
Arilyn gasped. She'd never been spoken to like that. Yet she yearned in such a fierce, horrible way she didn't know what to do. He closed the distance, grasped her upper arms, and kept her in his firm grip. He loomed over her with a dark, deadly energy that sucked the rebellion right out of her. God, she wanted his lips on hers. Dreamed of him taking what he wanted, with no endless questions if this was okay o
r that was okay. Fantasized of being woman enough to satisfy this male creature on every sexual level he chose to show her.
"That's outrageous," she finally managed to respond. "Archaic!"
"And needed for a little brat with a God complex. You think because you meditate and eat from the earth and bend your body like a pretzel, you're the only one with morals? I'd never blackmail you or lie to my boss. I'll finish every one of your ridiculous classes and prove your techniques don't work."
"I don't think like that! And my classes aren't ridiculous. I'll prove they work by the time you finish the course."
"I'm tired of hearing about how beneficial anger management is. I want to talk about a more important subject."
"Pinky?"
"No. I wanna talk about sex."
She shook in his grip. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and damned if she hadn't lost her ability to tell him to move out of her space.
Because she didn't want to. A strange heat loosened her muscles and made her sluggish. Her belly tightened. Her panties dampened. Oh, she'd been turned on before and was no stranger to arousal, but this was different. With other men, she chose. With him, it was as if her mind disengaged from her body for the very first time and she had no control.
The words shot like a bullet and made her jerk. Those cruel lips tipped downward in a sneer. "Let's talk about this attraction we have for each other and what we're gonna do about it."
Arilyn was way past yoga breathing and now tried to gulp for air. "Nothing. We do nothing. There is no attraction, and you've proved your point. I bow to your testosterone need to control all situations. "
He leaned in. The crisscross scar hooked into his brow. Even his eyebrows were strong looking. Full and dark like his midnight hair, which was free from his usual ball cap and spilled all messy and sexy around his ears and forehead. Individually, his features weren't remarkable. His nose hooked to the left, a sure sign of past fights. His cheekbones were high. Jaw square. Skin on the fair side. But together? He was devastating--the Black Irish look that made women weak in the knees, on the edge of civilized, yet not. Would his goatee be rough and scratchy, or silky smooth if she touched it? And why did his lips look soft, when his features were chiseled from stone?
