Lawe's Justice(51)

In that instant, he learned differently. He felt those emotions tearing through him, rushing his senses and throwing his beliefs to the wind. And for a second—for one unbelievable second—he imagined fighting at her side, sharing their triumphs and hearing her laughter at their successes.

A growl rumbled in his chest, hoarse and unbidden as he fought to keep from crossing the room and jerking her to him. To keep from taking what he so desperately needed her to give him.

Diane froze as she reentered the bedroom. A flush mounted her cheekbones, filled her gaze. She could feel the warmth washing up her face before increasing to pure flaming heat and rushing south to send a surge of sensation burning through her pu**y. At the same time, her chest clenched, emotion swamped her and the saddened realization that she could have him or her freedom burned like a blaze through her mind.

Oh Lord. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need the emotion. She didn’t need something else, or someone else, to lose. And with Lawe, there was no other course. She could have the man she longed for, or the freedom that was the same as the air she breathed.

Her thighs clenched as her clit began to ache, her vagina spilling the heated, slick moisture that made her pu**y feel swollen, her clit more sensitive.

The arousal that tormented her whenever she thought of him kicked into overdrive.

But she didn’t have to think of him now, her aroused, overheated body screamed. He was here. He was aroused. There for the taking. Ready. Willing.

A silent groan and that tingling urge to rub against him had her juices gathering further, easing past the swollen folds of her pu**y to dampen her thighs as well.

Diane could feel her body softening, her thighs weakening. She tightened her grip on the towel. Her fingers clenched in the material between her br**sts, holding on to it as though it were all that was holding back that insane need to touch him.

To be touched by him.

How did he do it to her? How did he make her feel so vulnerable and needy? How did he make her want him so desperately when she hadn’t ached for a man in years? She had never ached for anyone like this, she realized. For that “something,” that ethereal promise of “more.” That satisfaction, satiation and pure contentment she’d seen in other women who had mated with Breed males and found their fulfillment.

Her sister. Lyra Jordan. Megan Arness. Merinus Lyons. Faith Arlington, and even Storme McKenzie and Ria Warrant. Strong, vital mates to arrogant, dominant and yet loving Breed males who had accepted their mates were more than vessels to continue the Breed legacy, or porcelain dolls that needed to be smothered with protection.

Here was a really good one. Why the hell was she so willing to throw away her pride and her independence for a momentary pleasure? Why, in that second, did she suddenly wish she were less independent and more like her sister, Rachel, just to please the brooding, somber Breed standing before her.

He made her dream. That small voice, so filled with hope, whispered inside her as the memories of all she had lost over the years rose to torment her.

He made her dream honest-to-God vivid-color dreams of a future colored in more than blood. She had begun dreaming of a man that the woman, the part of her that was a warrior and the part that was still a frightened little girl desperate to find control and freedom, could hold on to. Hold on to and still be herself.

“Why are you here?” she forced the words past her lips, forced herself to ask the question rather than moving to him and begging him to f**k her.

Or to allow her to f**k him.

Whichever could be achieved and her orgasm reached in the quickest amount of time.

Instead, she filled her tone with irritation to add to the unwelcome glare that she forced to crease her expression.

“Why are you here?” he repeated the question with a heavy emphasis on her location. “You were not told to resume this mission.”

The wrong thing to say and he knew it the moment the words passed his lips. Unfortunately, there was no way to call them back.

Diane smiled back at him sweetly as she stepped across the room, and Lawe couldn’t help but watch her warily. She was damned well trained and quick as hell and he knew it.

But she didn’t move for him. Attacking him obviously wasn’t on the agenda tonight. At least, not yet.

Watching him warily Diane moved past the bottom of the bed, keeping her gaze on him, her body tense and ready to run as she moved to the backpack lying on the mattress.

One hand stayed knotted in the towel covering her. If wishes alone could rip it from her body, then it would have already been lying on the ground in shreds.

Nearly holding his breath he watched, his gaze centered where she held the towel securely. He wished it from her body, every muscle in his body tensing as he willed her to drop the material and give him a glimpse of that perfect, beautiful flesh.

The head of his dick throbbed¸ pounding furiously beneath the material of his jeans as he felt his balls drawing tight to the base of the thickened shaft in the need for release. Just beneath the engorged crown of his erection, the flesh seemed to stretch tighter, hotter as it pulsed in need.

The barb was there, stretching just enough to assure him of its presence. To assure him that this woman was indeed his mate.

Beneath his tongue the glands that held the mating hormone was swollen as it throbbed, ached. The need to push his tongue into her mouth and demand she engage in the sensual, heated kiss that would spill the hormone to her senses, was overwhelming.

“Stop looking at me like that.” The demand was made as the scent of her arousal began to intoxicate him, to fill his senses and the glands beneath his tongue with the mating hormone.