Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,89
towel covered her from midthigh to armpits, unfortunately, but he could tell the middle of her body matched her legs and the top third of her. Damp brown hair tangled itself around her shoulders and down her back, falling forward to hide her face. The line of her collarbone cut across slim shoulders, bringing attention to the creamy expanse of her skin, dusted here and there with a sprinkling of cinnamon-colored freckles. Hands clutched the towel closed over generous breasts, but just barely. Much more pulling and he wouldn’t have to imagine what she was hiding. His mouth watered at the thought.
“Let go, dog!”
A latent sense of chivalry kicked in. Much as he might like the view, he couldn’t let his dog harass…who was she, anyway, and why was she in his apartment?
He crossed his feet at the ankles, content to let Knight do the job of policing their home while he followed up with the interrogation. Pushing a gruff note into his voice, he barked, “Who the hell are you?”
The woman’s head snapped up. Hank’s breath got stuck somewhere behind his sternum as he met brilliant blue eyes. Angry blue eyes that almost eclipsed the pixie face staring back at him.
“Who are you?” Her voice was low, as angry as her eyes despite the uncertainty that rasped through her words. She wasn’t backing down, that was for sure. Her bravado sent a tingle through his belly—and lower. That old urge, to hunt, to conquer, rose with other parts of his anatomy.
Dangerous. Wrong.
Hank fought it down, breathed through it, but before he found the control to answer, Knight decided he wanted to play some more. He jerked at the towel. The material slipped lower, forcing the woman to tighten her grip or lose the covering altogether. The adjustment pushed the rounded globe of her breast higher. How much farther before he could see her nipple?
He shook his head. Why was he thinking about breasts when there was a strange woman in his home? He dug his fists into his pockets, hoping to obscure the unexpected effect she was having on him. “Since this is my apartment, I think my question comes first.”
Confusion filtered across those lovely features. The woman stepped back, only to be brought up short by Knight’s unyielding grip. “You’re Hank?”
Knight wanted to continue the game. He growled, giving the towel a hard shake like he’d nabbed a rabbit by the neck instead of a length of terry cloth. The move yanked the woman forward. She stumbled, panic sparking in her eyes. “Aren’t you going to call him off?”
“Why?” he asked, barely managing to hold back his laughter. After a long, boring night driving and the news he’d just been hit with, he had to admit he was enjoying this little surprise. Knight was playing; Hank knew it even if the woman hadn’t figured it out yet, and he couldn’t resist playing with her a bit himself. “We have an intruder. He’s just doing his job.”
She shook her head wildly. “I’m not an intruder. I live here.” She pulled on the towel. Knight dug in his paws, not giving an inch. “I—”
Knight faked her out with a sudden lunge forward. The woman stumbled back, trying to avoid what looked like an attack. Knight took advantage and snatched the fabric out of her hands. Away from her body.
Hank’s dick went tighter than his bass strings.
He had no more than a half count to imprint the sight in his mind. It was all he needed. Full, round, high breasts with tender pink nipples drawn up tight. A smooth expanse of stomach begging to be explored, with just the right amount of inward curve at her waist to give him a place to grip. Hips wide enough to cradle him perfectly against the sparse patch of dark hair between her legs. Christ, she looked sweet, sweet enough to eat.
And mortified.
A bright red blush flared across her cheeks. The woman slapped a hand across her breasts, obscuring his view, and then, quick as the rabbit Knight had pretended to play with, she whirled away. He got an all too brief glimpse of her ass as she fled down the hall, the bounce of the perfect globes sending a second slam of blood to his already full erection. The crash of the guest bedroom door echoed around him as he hunched against the pain with a rough—very rough—laugh.
Oblivious to the drama he’d caused, Knight settled onto his belly there in the middle of the hall, happily munching away on his prize. Hank opened his mouth to reprimand the dog, to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, maybe to call the woman’s name—only to realize he still had no clue who the stranger in his house actually was.
And he had to know, because da-yam, that body. That ass.
Those eyes.
Maybe he wasn’t as tired as he’d thought he was.
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“I always know Ella is going to move me and dazzle me with her wonderful characters and gripping stories.”
~ USA Today Best-seller Angel Payne
About the Author
Ella Sheridan never fails to take her readers to the dark edges of love and back again. Strong heroines are her signature, and her heroes span the gamut from hot rock stars to alpha bodyguards and everywhere in between. Ella never pulls her punches, and her unique combination of raw emotion, hot sex, and action leave her readers panting for the next release.
Born and raised in the Deep South, Ella writes romantic suspense, erotic romance, and hot BDSM contemporaries. Start anywhere—every book may be read as a standalone, or begin with book one in any series and watch the ties between the characters grow.
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