“I was already created,” she whispered then with a mocking smile, her gaze meeting his with icy knowledge. “It was too late. And it’s too late for this, Tanner. Go ahead and kill me. You’d be doing the world a favor. Wouldn’t you?”
“I won’t hurt you.” He forced the fury back and focused on his desire rather than his rage. On the hunger rather than the bleak memories he glimpsed in her eyes. “As a matter of fact, pretty girl…” He let his lips brush hers with the barest touch.
He was rewarded with an almost imperceptible intake of breath on her part. Her expression didn’t change, and neither did the look in her eyes, but her scent did. Once again, he could smell the heat of her need. It was there, sweet, soft, edging around the harsher scent of her forced detachment.
“As a matter of fact what?” Her curiosity was almost as legendary as her cold, unemotional facade.
“As a matter of fact, I intend to make you feel very, very good. I’m going to make you so damned hot you’ll burn both of us alive.”
“As I said, you’re a little overconfident, Breed.” The derision in her voice belied the scent of her passion. But it was the scent he went with. The scent that calmed the beast raging inside.
“Let’s see if that’s true.”
Nothing mattered but kissing her, holding her, sheltering her from the past that he wasn’t sure he could protect her from. And from the moment his lips took hers fully, he was lost in her. Not that he had expected anything less. Pleasure began to wrap around him, to emanate from her and lick his body with burning flames.
God, her kiss was good. She wasn’t hesitant; she reached for him, ate at his lips as eagerly as he ate hers. Slender arms twined around his neck; sharp nails scraped against his scalp and had a growl rumbling from his chest.
He had to touch her. Not just kiss her. Nothing mattered except this. Her body flush against his as he lifted her, her knees lifting, thighs parting, the towel falling away and her swollen br**sts pressing into his T-shirt.
God yes, this was what he wanted. One arm wrapped around her back, the other moving to the firm mound of one tit. He had to taste her. Have her. Just one taste of those pretty, berry-ripe ni**les.
He tore his lips from hers, scraped his teeth down the graceful column of her neck, then moved to the delectable fruit awaiting them.
And it was good. The growl that tore from his throat joined her cry as his lips covered the flushed, eager tip. His tongue lashed at it as he sucked it in deep, his teeth scraping tender flesh with lush eroticism as she shuddered against him.
“You taste like candy.” He would have winced at the gravelly sound of his voice if he’d had enough mind to do so.
“We can’t do this.”
He didn’t want to hear her denial, he wanted her to cry out his name, wanted her to beg him to f**k her.
That’s what he wanted to hear from her lips.
He nipped at the hard peak.
“Tanner.”
“Sweet ni**les, perfect tits.” He groaned. “I could suck your tits for hours and never get enough.”
He went back to her, filling his senses with the feel of her, the taste of her, the heady scent of her wet pu**y in the air.
“This is crazy.” Her voice was weak, but the scent of her lust—now, that was strong. Strong enough to intoxicate. Strong enough to mesmerize.
“Naw, darlin’, not crazy. Hot. Wicked. Never crazy.” He pressed closer between her thighs, feeling the heat of her pu**y through his jeans, searing his dick.
“You’re forgetting who I am again,” she whimpered, but her head came forward, her lips pressing to his neck as every muscle in his body clenched in response.
“I know who you are, pretty girl.” His teeth scraped her other nipple as her responding cry sent a shock of satisfaction raging through him.
This was why she was still alive, why he couldn’t hurt her, could never harm her. For this pleasure, the taste of her, the heat of her. Nothing else. When he was finished, when he had sated himself with the need clawing at his insides, then he would pack her ass up and haul her to Sanctuary. Callan could do whatever the hell he wanted to with her then. If there was honor in her, Callan would find it.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered again as he continued to nip at one berry-ripe nipple while he bore her to the bed. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand my dick is so hard I’m going to come in my pants if I don’t get inside you,” he growled as he laid her back on the bed. “I understand you taste as sweet as sugar and you’re hotter than fire. What the hell else do I need to know?”
He leaned back, staring down at her pale face, her wide chocolate eyes. Sable hair spread out around her head like a silken fan, and excitement had flushed her br**sts the color of a pale sunset.
She wasn’t exactly beautiful, except to him perhaps. Her irregular features—the little stubborn chin, pert nose and high cheekbones—and the faint Asian set of them combined to make her infinitely unique.