Hunger.
Raw. Undeniable. The kind that has nothing to do with violence and everything to do with need. Her grip tightens on my jacket. Not pulling away. Pullingcloser.
The heat between us ratchets up. Fast. Wrong. Overwhelming.
I’m acutely aware of every point of contact. Her hips against mine. The curve of her waist under my palm. The rapid rise and fall of her chest pressing lush breasts against me. The way her breath ghosts across my throat.
Her gaze drops to my mouth.
I’m surrounded by a heady cloud of female pheromones, and my pulse kicks into a rhythm that has nothing to do with combat.
She leans in—
No. Not leaning.
Surging.
Her body presses against mine with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. Not an attack. Something else entirely. Her hands slide from my jacket to my chest, nails scraping through fabric. Her leg hooks behind mine.
The movement is pure instinct. Hungry. Sexual.
The way she looks at me—
It’s not rage anymore. It’s need stripped down to something primal and desperate and completely beyond reason. Like she’s fighting the urge to rip my clothes off with her teeth.
Heat explodes through my system. My fire responds before I can stop it—not to burn, but tomatch. To answer whatever this is radiating from her in waves.
Every nerve ending lights up. I can feel my control slipping. Feel something shifting in how my body recognizes hers. Closeness stops being closeness and becomesrightness. Becomes the only thing that makes sense in a world that stopped making sense the moment she touched me.
Her nails press into my chest. She grinds forward, rubbing her pussy against where I’m growing suddenly, inexplicablyhard.
Her breathing turns ragged.
I freeze. Draw back.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I see it—the exact moment she realizes what’s happening. What she’s doing. What her body is demanding despite all the threats she was hurling at me just minutes ago.
Horror flashes across her face. She tears herself away. Violent. Desperate.
Stumbles backward until she hits the opposite wall. Her hands come up—not defensive. Just… lost. Like she doesn’t know what to do with them when they’re not touching me.
“No,” she gasps. “No, that’s not—”
She doesn’t finish. Just stands there. Chest heaving. Eyes wide. Staring at me like I’m something monstrous.
Or like she is.
I don’t move. Couldn’t if I wanted to. My fire rages beneath my skin. Every instinct screaming at me to close the distance. To press her back against that wall and find out what happens if I don’t pull away.
What the hell just happened?
The question loops through my mind but finds no answer. Just the echoing awareness that thirty seconds ago I was fighting for my life.
And now—
Now I don’t know what this is.
Her breathing stays too fast. Shallow. She presses back against stone like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.
