Page 30 of Marked By Moonlight

She darted past him. Hard fingers caught the ends of her hair and gave a yank. Arms flailing, she careened into that familiar wall of muscle. His arms came up to lock around her, squeezing her ribs until she couldn’t draw air. Even panicked, she was conscious of the way her breasts rose and fell on top of his forearm, conscious of how heavy and achy they suddenly felt, of how her nipples hardened. The air deepened into shadows of hazy red and purple, mirroring her varying emotions—rage, fear, excitement.

He pressed his mouth close to her ear and growled in a voice that sent shivers down her spine, “We’re through talking.”

Oh God. He’s here to kill me.

Guided by instinct, she flung her head back, crashing it against his chin. With a grunt of pain, he loosened his hold. She broke free and bolted, snatching her purse from a wall hook by the door.

Her hand barely grazed the doorknob before her feet flew out from under her. One moment she was airborne, the next flat on her back—every bone in her body painfully jarred. Dazed, she saw a flash of silver overhead and remembered what had dangled from his hands. Handcuffs. Crouching over her, he grabbed one of her wrists with the cuffs poised in the air, ready to shackle her.

“No!” Her leg shot out, kicking him in the shin, bringing him toppling down on top of her, washing her in the male scent of him. She concentrated on keeping her hands away from those cuffs, concentrated on ignoring the wild need pumping through her bloodstream.

Cursing, he caught one of her flying hands and chased after the other one. An ache throbbed at the center of her thighs. The proximity of his body, the male musk of him, even his rough handling, excited her.He excited her.God, she was demented. Or sick.

Pinning both her wrists above her head, he flattened his body along the length of hers. “Enough,” he barked.

Nose to nose, they glared at each other, hot breaths mingling, his smell overwhelming her, his hammering heart loud between them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he warned, his green eyes wild. The catch in his voice sent a tremor through her body.

Her breath came in short, rhythmic spurts, each one thrusting her breasts harder against his chest, pressing the hard peaks into his solidness. “Like what?”

“Like you wanna fuck.”

Heat suffused her face, rushing through her entire body like a firestorm. Her mouth sagged open. His accusation was ridiculous, absurd, impossible.

“Right,” she choked out, trying for sarcasm but her reply sounded more like agreement to her ears.

But it was too late. The damage was done, the fuse lit from the mental image his coarse language inspired. An image she couldn’t shake. An image so vivid she wanted—no, needed to make it a reality.

Thrusting her face forward the last inch separating them, she kissed him like a woman starved. She kissed him with a savagery that shocked her. He was still for only a second before surrendering and kissing her back. Releasing her wrists, he grabbed hold of her face and angled her for his slanting mouth. The feel of those large hands on her face, his calluses rasping her cheeks, awakened a hidden Claire, a Claire that felt feminine and desired. Bold and hungry.

Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, she strained against him, moaning into his mouth. His tongue slid against hers, stoking the inferno inside her even higher.

Desperate, driven by desire, she ran her hands down his back. Tongue parrying with his, she dropped her hands to clutch him, hating the denim that stopped her from feeling the texture of his skin.

Spreading her legs, she let him settle his weight between her thighs, moaning softly into his mouth as he rubbed and ground his hardness against her.

He tore his lips from hers to drag his mouth down her neck. His teeth clamped gently on her nipple through her shirt. She shrieked, bucking against him. Through the thin cotton of her shirt he continued to bite and suck her nipples into turgid pebbles, drawing each deep into his mouth. She brought her hands to hishead, tangling them in the long, thick strands of hair. The roll of his tongue over the wet cotton created a delicious friction, drawing mewling, animal-like cries from deep in her throat.

Wild for the taste of him, she shoved at his chest and rolled him over, straddling him with a strength and speed that surprised even her. Something other than desire flickered in his gaze as he looked up at her, but she did not give him—or herself—time to think. Scooting low on his hips, she ran her hands down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. Unzipping him, she found him through the opening in his boxers. Closing her hand around the hard length of him, she gently squeezed. The blood burned through her veins as he pulsed in her hand. She traced her thumb over the silken tip of him, rubbing the bead of moisture that appeared there.

Groaning, he clamped hard hands around her arms and rolled her under him. Slamming his mouth over hers, he kissed her with a savagery that should have shocked her. A growl swelled deep from her throat. He thrust himself against her, driving her into the floor.

Panting, she tore her lips from his. “Please,” she begged, writhing beneath him.

She was lost. Mindless. She had to have him. Now. On the floor. She didn’t care as long as he was inside her.

“I know,” he murmured, hands sliding down her arms to her wrists in an almost gentle hold.

The soft, grinding click did not immediately register. Not until he pulled back. Not until it was too late.

Staring up at him, she blinked in bewilderment, bereft without his hands and mouth on her.

Then it hit her.

“You bastard!”

She tugged her wrists apart, but the steel handcuffs imprisoned her hands together. Fury exploded inside her—and with it an irrational sense of betrayal. He hadn’t wanted her at all. Her heartclenched in pain. He had only wanted to distract her. So he could kill her. With a bellow of rage she swung her cuffed wrists toward his head with all the strength she possessed and made contact with a satisfying whack.

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