Storme stared back at him, teeth clenching as she felt her emotions rising, felt rising to the fore the anger that always simmered in the back of her mind.
"It's time for me to go." No Coyote could be as dangerous to her as this Breed could become.
The sense of self-preservation began to ratchet up inside her, tensing, tightening through her body as she swung on her heel and meant to march straight to the door.
"And ye think I risked life and limb to protect that pretty ass of yours so you can flaunt yourself right out that door and into their clutches?"
Before she could evade him, and she was damned good at evading Breeds, he gripped her arm, dragging her around until he could pull her against his chest.
Her hands flattened in instinct on the hard, broad contours. She swore she could feel the heat of his flesh pouring through the material of the shirt he wore. Heat, and something else. The beat of his heart, pounding faster than it should, as though being close to her affected him, as though touching her excited him.
Her heart was racing in fear. At least, that was the excuse she was sticking to. Of course, fear had never made her clit swell before, nor had it caused her pu**y to throb, her juices to gather. Her ni**les were hard. Her lips were sensitive, and she realized in a flash of insight that she wanted him to kiss her.
She had never been this close to a Breed, at least not in this situation. In the ten years she had been running, she had been shot at and had shot back, had hit and been hit by Breeds. But never had she been held by one.
Her fingers curled against his shirt, a distant part of her amazed at the feel of the flesh beneath the clothing. Her hips were held close to his thighs, the length of his c**k pressing against her lower stomach, beneath the material of his leather riding pants.
There was heat there as well. Full, thick heat, a subtle pulse and throb of lust.
She knew too much about Breed physiology, she thought with panicked nerves.
Too much about the length and width of the male Wolf Breed's cock, the hard tone of his muscles, the impossible strength of his body.
Outside this room, certain hell awaited her, and she knew it. Inside this room, in his arms, possibly in his bed, there would be exquisite pleasure. A pleasure unlike anything any woman who hadn't been with a Breed could imagine.
They were trained in the labs to pleasure a woman, and they acquired that training for a variety of reasons, most of them to deceive, to infiltrate, to gain trust and to steal information.
"Where's the fear of earlier, lass?" The crooning whisper eased over her senses as his lips lowered to her ear, his tongue stroking against it with an insidious stroke of enticement.
Her lashes fluttered. It felt good. It felt too good. For a second, a flash of guilt rushed through her, only to be followed by the alluring sensation of his lips moving along her jaw, his tongue giving gentle, brief little licks as his lips caressed her.
She fought to pull up the memory of the Breed tearing at her brother's throat, but the image wouldn't come to mind. It couldn't slip past the warmth sizzling through her body.
"Don't do this to me," she whispered, praying he would pull back, that he would take his touch away.
"Donna do what, little love?" His lips brushed against hers. "Donna give ye pleasure? But, lass, there's no need greater at this moment than to hear your cries of pleasure."
And her need for pleasure intense enough to cry out, for it was beginning to burn inside her.
"Please," she whispered again. "Let me go."
A low, wicked chuckle vibrated against the side of her lips. "If ye want to be free, ye've only to move away."
But he was holding her. His hands, big and strong, were smoothing down her back, over the rise of her bu**ocks and back again.
Stroking. He was stroking her, pulling her close as those big hands returned to her bu**ocks and lifted.
Her back met the wall behind them as his thigh slid between hers, tucked against the core of her and rubbed against her with a smooth, seductive stroke.
Sensation raced from her clit to her ni**les. Pure, unadulterated pleasure. It was heated, soothing, exciting. A mix of sensations she'd never had time to experience until now.
"You're not movin', lass." His lips feathered over hers.
No, she wasn't moving, she couldn't move.
"Such a lovely wee mystery." The brogue intoxicated her, held her mesmerized with the pure, male seduction it contained as she felt his fingers at the buttons of her blouse.
God, she was letting him touch her. Her brother had been killed by a Coyote whose life he had saved more than once when the Coyote had returned from a mission gone bad. Her father had created him.