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I’m his,some primal part of her purred—it was about damn time he proved it. As if sensing her thoughts, his touch turned possessive. One hand eased beneath her waist, crushing her against the hardness of his chest.
Her breaths feathered. This was…different. She could feel every inch of him, rippling with a strength that could easily tear her into pieces if he wanted. The thought made a part of her lurch, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe at all. Her mind spun—dizzy. She couldn’t think.
But maybe that was a good thing?
These days, it seemed like she thought way too much. This was so much better. Her body moved purely on instinct—ironically, just the way he taught her—and it wanted more. For all his strength, he wasn’t doing enough. Touching her enough. Kissing herenough.
His mouth avoided hers on purpose, deliberately skirting the bruises on her throat and her swollen bottom lip. His fingers, flexing against her waist, never traveled any lower than that.
He was holding back.
Annoyed, Loren raked her fingers through his hair, forcing his head from the curve of her shoulder. His eyes locked onto hers, so damn molten they glowed.
Something unspoken passed between them, almost too quickly to track. A new challenge? This mattered more than her submission—his acknowledgment. Suddenly desperate for it, she arched her spine, seeking out his warmth.
He stiffened. A tortured grimace contorted his expression as if he were going to war within himself. In a second, something won out, and his posture shifted. He dropped the gallant act. His hips slammed into hers, driving the air from her lungs. That prickling heat returned, pulsing down her spine, between her legs... They parted to make room for him, and her eyes rolled at the sensation. His position applied pressure in dangerous ways. Too much to bear. Not enough…
This time, when she lurched up, forcing her lips against his, he didn’t hesitate. He gave her what she wanted—needed.
Pain mingled with the harsh heat enveloping her like a blanket, so searing that it was a struggle to even remember whatcoldwas. Her bruised lip ached, but his tongue was already there, caressing the wound before it really had the chance to smart. All before ramming his tongue between her lips and utterly stealing her breath away.
More.
Loren couldn’t fight the violent urge that had her hands turning into claws, pressing against his back, forcing him against her, arching her hips to seek more contact.
Mine.More, more, more!
Suddenly, even kissing him, so harshly she could taste blood—his or hers?—wasn’t enough. She needed him. All of him pressed against her so tightly ithurt.
He seemed to be thinking along those same lines. With a grunt, he rolled over, wrenching her upright, forcing her up to straddle his waist, mouth never losing contact.
His tongue battled hers, taking deep greedy pulls.Then, his fingers were dragging at the zipper to her windbreaker, tearing the whole thing from her shoulders, before tugging at her thermal. And then that was gone, too.
All that was left was her bra, which suddenly seemed irritating against her skin. She wanted it off—needed it off.Now.
Her hands flew up to the back-clasp, fumbling with the fastening, but a pair of thick fingers were there to impatiently bat hers away. In seconds, he had the clasp undone, and Loren sighed in relief as the pale straps slid down her shoulders. She lifted her arms, expecting him to make the fabric disappear along with the rest of her clothes—
Wait.
She was so dazed that she wasn’t sure if the word had been spoken out loud or inside her head. Suddenly, McGoven bucked his hips, knocking her aside.
“Shit!” He was on his feet in an instant.
Loren landed on her back. Before she could blink, a tanned hand was there, holding her bunched-up thermal before her. She reacted out of habit, sitting up to slip the shirt on over her head, only to become uncomfortably aware of her dangerously loose bra, threatening to slide from her arms.
She glanced down, almost in shock, at the bared flesh of her stomach as she wrestled the thermal on. Her windbreaker was a few paces away, crumpled on the grass, and Officer McGoven…
His eyes were so wide she half-expected them to fall out of his head.
“Shit,” he hissed again, raking a hand through that wild hair. In two steps, he snatched up her jacket and tossed it in her direction. “Get dressed.”
The next second, he took off, marching across the field at a pace that forced her to run to keep up. They were closer to the house than she realized. Within seconds, she caught sight of the barn and…a bright pink car currently zooming up the driveway.
Oh shit,Loren thought. Suddenly McGoven’s haste made sense.
But how had he known?
She never got the chance to ask. They reached the base of the porch steps the exact moment Naomi Tanner stepped from her car.
