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She wanted his dark blond, spiky hair to tickle the skin along her inner thighs.
She wanted to taste the salty tang of precum beaded on the tip of his cock.
Her head snapped back at her runaway thoughts. She had snapped. A complete mental break.
Where were the men in white coats? Would they be pounding on her door next?
“Why are you in my apartment?” Those whispered words had to be forced from her seized throat.
“’Cause you let me in,” he whispered back.
Oh good lord, his voice. It should be like nails on a chalkboard, not the background music to panty-soaking porn.
“You forced your way in.”
“You opened the door.”
Where was her damn common sense? Her street smarts? Her instinct for survival? “We covered that already. And if you kept pounding on the door like a damn gorilla you might’ve woken up my landlord. I’m not ready to lose my security deposit yet.”
Not because of a cop-hating felon asshole biker.
She was going to make an appointment with a therapist in the morning. Because there was no other reason every inch of her body was throbbing in tune with her heartbeat unless she was one hundred percent certifiably crazy.
“Darlin’.” The low rumble of that word rolled slowly through her, picking up speed and crashing into her center like a rogue wave against a sea wall.
She dug her fingernails into her rationality and clung for dear life.
Hold fast, Jet! Hold fast!
“Why are you here?” Gah! Why did that come out so breathless?
“Got somethin’ to tell you.”
She failed to swallow the boulder wedged solidly in her throat. “Then say it and leave.” Planting her palms on his chest, she shoved but he didn’t budge. No, he was that invincible sea wall. “You need to back up. Stop crowding me.”
“You scared?”
He would love it if she was.
She forced out a dry laugh. “Of you? Hell. No.” Of my reaction to you? Hell yes.
“Maybe you should be.”
Her pussy vibrated from his purr as if he’d said it with his lips directly against the swollen, damp flesh.
“I did a lot of self-defense in the police academy,” she warned him.
“I was in prison.”
That statement should be like a cooler full of ice dumped over her head, bringing her to her senses. It did nothing but fan the flames. “Is that your way of telling me you fight dirty?” Her voice cracked on the last word.
“Had to.”
“And now?”
Her breath caught as he bumped her chest with his, forcing her back a step. She gained her balance and pressed her hands to his chest again, leaving them there this time, trying to keep some distance. Maintain some breathing room. A safe space.
He bumped her again, then pressed on until her back was to the door and his chest was pinned to her breasts, sandwiching her hands between them.
“Can still fight dirty if you want me to. Want me to fight dirty, darlin’?” His words whispered over her parted lips.
Hell yes, she did.
No.
No.
No!
“I always like a challenge,” she whispered back. In truth, her challenge should be to resist him.
But, shit, it was so hard. Especially when he planted both of his palms on the door behind her, one on each side of her head, effectively boxing her in. Imprisoning her with his arms.
The energy snapped and crackled in the air between them.
It made it difficult to breathe. To think. To remember why he was so, so bad for her. Why she shouldn’t be attracted to him.
Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his long-sleeved T-shirt under the open leather cut. She expected to feel the shock of electricity beneath her fingertips. But she didn’t. Instead, she felt the man. Solid. Warm. Dangerous. His chest rose and fell steadily beneath her palms.
Tipping his head down, he stared at her breasts.
Peaked and aching. Swelling.
Screaming for him.
“You scared?” he whispered again.
“No.”
Without warning, his hand seized the front of her throat, like that day outside of her cruiser. A hand that could easily cause damage. End her life.
His fingers tightened and his thumb, calloused from years of being a mechanic, slowly traced the line of her racing pulse. “Now?”
Up... Down...
Up...
Down...
“No,” she whispered, making sure her answer sounded confident.
“Should be. You’re alone in your apartment with a man who hates you. A man who’s got his hand on your throat. You think you can overpower me ‘cause of your trainin’, but you’re mistaken, darlin’. You can’t. Your life is caged by rules. In the military. In your job. In society. In prison, to survive you can’t be knee-capped by those same rules or you will die. Or become someone’s bitch. Fightin’ dirty ain’t a choice, it’s a fuckin’ way of life.”
She inhaled every single one of those powerful words whispered over her lips.
Holy shit. She was disintegrating from the inside out. As a trickle of arousal slipped from her, she was afraid it would escape her loose boxers and slide down her inner thigh where he could see it.
