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And she wants it too.
She lowers her hands when she sees it’s me. As she takes a step back, her cleavage shifts around, stirring the hunger awake again. Or maybe it was never sleeping and alwayswillbe alert when I’m with my woman.
I need to try and tame it if that’s possible.
For now, anyway.
“Do you always sneak up on people in the dark?”
It’s probably best if I don’t answer this honestly. Yet.
“Freya, I need you to listen to me.”
She flinches at the firmness in my voice, looking closely at me, slightly smiling as if she thinks this is a joke.
Her smile disappears after we gaze into each other’s eyes for a few seconds longer.
“I’m listening,” she murmurs.
I scan the street constantly, listening for cars and anything out of the ordinary. But it would be so simple for a shooter to hide in one of the windows overlooking the street, not revealing themselves until the last second.
That’s why I stand so close to her, I tell myself. So I can protect her, take the bullet for her.
It’s not – and I know I’m lying, even as I try to convince myself – her presence, scent,everythingpulling me in.
She stares up, eyes going wide in a gorgeous, innocent way.
What the hell am I doing?
I kiss her, even if it’s the last thing I should be doing here when we’re supposed to be on the move.
Part of me expects her to push me away. I’ve just crept up on her without an explanation, and now my lips are fused to hers.
My seed rumbles from deep within, like a beast with its own intentions, when she starts kissing me back.
It’s like I’ve been waiting my entire life for this woman as if every bad date suddenly makes sense, every wasted experience.
All that not feeling, all that numbness….
But I’m not like that anymore.
She’s changed me already.
She makes a gorgeous moaning noise as I kiss her harder, our tongues finding each other, clashing with a lust I’ve never felt.
I wonder if I can say the same for her as her hands grab onto my arms, her nails digging in through my shirt.
Stop now, I tell myself, but she tastes too perfect, feels too mine for me to stop.
Luckily a car comes screeching down the street.
I leap back, my hand going to my hip, gaze fixated on the window as the racer-style vehicle, with blue neon lights beneath, drives away.
Freya stares at me…more specifically, my hand, near my hip. Near my gun.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to kiss you again,” I say, not even meaning to gothere.
But with Freya, I can’t stop.
