arousal was nothing compared to what she felt now. It wasn’t arousal—it was an imperative, all-consuming hunger and a need that she couldn’t survive without fulfilling.
He was hers. He was a part of her soul. When had that happened? Other than those brief days ten years before, she hadn’t allowed herself to be alone with him, hadn’t allowed herself the hope that she could have more than the nightmares.
She didn’t want the pity. She didn’t want the knowledge in his eyes of what she had been, but she couldn’t bear to lose him either.
He pulled her into another door, slammed it closed, then swung her around to face him.
Dawn smiled mockingly as she looked around the huge, deserted laundry room.
“Isn’t this just a little too clichéd, Seth?” She drawled. “And here I’m not wearing my little French maid outfit. Should I change for you?”
My God. His eyes. For a second, the hunger, the lust that fired inside them wiped the thoughts from her head and the saliva from her mouth, and not in fear. She could smell the lust pouring from his body, his pores, filling the room with the subtle scent of male musk and heated flames. It was the most erotic scent she had ever known.
“Who the hell are you and what did you do with Dawn?” he snarled. “Better yet, why the fuck are you here?”
“What, didn’t want me to witness you going to your knees in surrender when you propose to your little bunny of the month?” she shot back, and watched as his nostrils flared, his head jerking back in surprise. “Didn’t think Callan would tell me, Seth?” She wrinkled her nose as she had watched Cassie do a dozen times when slapping down one of the Breeds for impertinence. “Didn’t think poor little Dawn could handle the sight of it?”
His lips thinned as she watched the anger build inside him. Well, that was fine with her. Let him get mad. Let him get as mad as she was and let him burn inside.
“You’re right.” She lifted to her tiptoes and almost, just almost managed to get right in his face as she dropped the duffel bag, placed her hands against his chest and pushed furiously. “You have a problem on your hands, stud. See how you can fix it.”
He fell back a step, his expression frankly incredulous as she felt, scented, knew, the hunger that began to whip through his system.
The power of it slapped around her, tore through her like lightning and left her struggling to breathe as they glared at each other like combatants.
“You don’t want to be here,” he snarled. “God damn you, Dawn. I won’t let you fuck me up again, and I won’t let you fuck my body up again. Get your ass back on that heli-jet and get out of here. I don’t want you here.”
“Liar,” she growled furiously. “I can feel how much you want me here. I can smell it. I can feel it like flames burning over me, so don’t even try to tell me you don’t want me here.”
His hands clenched at his sides; anger pulsed off his body in waves and fired her own, just as the arousal did. She could feel the familiar dampness growing between her thighs, feel her nipples hardening beneath her light summer-weight tank top and feel her hands and tongue itch.
They itched like a rash. Worse than a rash. Or what she had heard a rash felt like. She wanted to touch. Touch his skin. She had to touch his skin, had to rub her tongue against it and infect him with the same insanity crawling through her.
“I don’t want you here,” he bit out again, furious, sincerity ringing in his voice as it sliced across her soul. “I don’t want to look at you, day in and day out, and ache for something I can’t have, Dawn. You won’t rip through me like that again. I won’t allow it.”
He didn’t want her? Had he ever really wanted her or had it just been the mating heat?
Pride had her head lifting, her chin jutting in the air as she snarled back at him. “Then stay away from me, Mr. Lawrence. Keep your ass safe, and let me and my team find
He was hers. He was a part of her soul. When had that happened? Other than those brief days ten years before, she hadn’t allowed herself to be alone with him, hadn’t allowed herself the hope that she could have more than the nightmares.
She didn’t want the pity. She didn’t want the knowledge in his eyes of what she had been, but she couldn’t bear to lose him either.
He pulled her into another door, slammed it closed, then swung her around to face him.
Dawn smiled mockingly as she looked around the huge, deserted laundry room.
“Isn’t this just a little too clichéd, Seth?” She drawled. “And here I’m not wearing my little French maid outfit. Should I change for you?”
My God. His eyes. For a second, the hunger, the lust that fired inside them wiped the thoughts from her head and the saliva from her mouth, and not in fear. She could smell the lust pouring from his body, his pores, filling the room with the subtle scent of male musk and heated flames. It was the most erotic scent she had ever known.
“Who the hell are you and what did you do with Dawn?” he snarled. “Better yet, why the fuck are you here?”
“What, didn’t want me to witness you going to your knees in surrender when you propose to your little bunny of the month?” she shot back, and watched as his nostrils flared, his head jerking back in surprise. “Didn’t think Callan would tell me, Seth?” She wrinkled her nose as she had watched Cassie do a dozen times when slapping down one of the Breeds for impertinence. “Didn’t think poor little Dawn could handle the sight of it?”
His lips thinned as she watched the anger build inside him. Well, that was fine with her. Let him get mad. Let him get as mad as she was and let him burn inside.
“You’re right.” She lifted to her tiptoes and almost, just almost managed to get right in his face as she dropped the duffel bag, placed her hands against his chest and pushed furiously. “You have a problem on your hands, stud. See how you can fix it.”
He fell back a step, his expression frankly incredulous as she felt, scented, knew, the hunger that began to whip through his system.
The power of it slapped around her, tore through her like lightning and left her struggling to breathe as they glared at each other like combatants.
“You don’t want to be here,” he snarled. “God damn you, Dawn. I won’t let you fuck me up again, and I won’t let you fuck my body up again. Get your ass back on that heli-jet and get out of here. I don’t want you here.”
“Liar,” she growled furiously. “I can feel how much you want me here. I can smell it. I can feel it like flames burning over me, so don’t even try to tell me you don’t want me here.”
His hands clenched at his sides; anger pulsed off his body in waves and fired her own, just as the arousal did. She could feel the familiar dampness growing between her thighs, feel her nipples hardening beneath her light summer-weight tank top and feel her hands and tongue itch.
They itched like a rash. Worse than a rash. Or what she had heard a rash felt like. She wanted to touch. Touch his skin. She had to touch his skin, had to rub her tongue against it and infect him with the same insanity crawling through her.
“I don’t want you here,” he bit out again, furious, sincerity ringing in his voice as it sliced across her soul. “I don’t want to look at you, day in and day out, and ache for something I can’t have, Dawn. You won’t rip through me like that again. I won’t allow it.”
He didn’t want her? Had he ever really wanted her or had it just been the mating heat?
Pride had her head lifting, her chin jutting in the air as she snarled back at him. “Then stay away from me, Mr. Lawrence. Keep your ass safe, and let me and my team find
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