Page 71 of Elite Metal: Warriors

She loved it. Loved the furor of his passion, the storm of it. His other hand roved, exploring her body, cupping her breasts, thumbing a nipple, scudding down to her waist and sinking into the flesh of her hips. He found the tender spot at the crux of her thighs and stroked her there through her jeans. He was not gentle. She did not want him to be.

And as he explored her, she explored him. His shoulders, broad and strong, the bulging muscles of his biceps, the powerful slabs of his chest, his thighs. It was only natural for her to stroke his cock, to test his girth. To enclose him.

He reared back. His eyes were red, his features taut. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” She went for a teasing tone. She shouldn’t have. Not when he was in this mood. He was a beast in this mood.

“Don’t,” he growled with a ferocity that startled her, but then he added, “I don’t have much self-control when it comes to you.”

Excellent.

She must have grinned because he glowered and gave her a little shake. “I want this to last.”

She did too.

But driving him wild had its merits.

She fixed her features into a pout and rubbed her belly against his hardness. “Tell me what you want me to do,” she said in a little-girl voice.

His nostrils flared.

He lurched back, putting some distance between them. And while she didn’t like the distance in the least, his expression was…fascinating. Fierce and ruthless. He tipped up his chin and stared at her, down the long blade of his nose. He crossed his arms; his muscles bunched. “Strip.”

Oh holy God. Her knees nearly collapsed.

“You want me to strip?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk back.”

She lifted a shoulder and sashayed closer to the bed. “I wasn’t talking back. I was just asking for clarification. I mean—”

“Strip.”

A sizzle of arousal whipped through her. She peeped at him over her shoulder. He was so indomitable, so powerful, so gorgeous standing there, staring at her with lust written all over his face.

“All right.”

It was a damn shame she was wearing sweats. They hardly made for an effective striptease, but she did her best. “Like this?” she asked, toying with the hem of the sweatshirt.

His eyes locked on her hands. His muscles tightened. His throat worked.

She raised it slowly and then brought it back down. He growled. She turned around and—smiling to herself—whipped it off.

“Face me!” Oh God, she loved the hint of entreaty, the thread of desperation in his command.

She turned around slowly, her hands covering her bare breasts.

“Arms at your sides.”

She fluttered her lashes. “But I’m shy.”

She wasn’t. Not in the least, but she knew how the words would affect him, and they did. They prodded the predator within him. He tautened to the point she could see his tension. He vibrated with it. He wanted to pounce; it was taking everything he had to hold back.

It was glorious.

She couldn’t wait until he did. Couldn’t wait until he pounced.

Holding his gaze, she lowered her hands. His attention flicked to her breasts and he licked his lips. “Finish it.” Harsh, hard, broken words.