Rule Breaker(134)
“I’d stop attempting to piss me off while it’s still possible for me to maintain control, sweetheart,” he advised her. “Because, trust me, you have no idea the edge I’m riding right now.”
For all her anger, for all the pain and hurt feelings that flowed through her, though, the smell of her heat still managed to intoxicate him. Arousal spiced with a hunger he couldn’t quite decipher fully. Emotions he couldn’t identify quite yet created an exhilarating scent that had his dick iron hard.
Talking would definitely have to come later.
First, God help him, first he needed to show his fiery little mate exactly who she belonged to. Exactly why she couldn’t continue to fight him this way. If it didn’t stop, then there wasn’t a chance in hell he could protect this incredible gift he’d been given.
It was his place to protect her. And he was beginning to suspect she was going to need more protection than he had ever imagined.
She was his mate.
His mate.
She was his.
One woman.
A woman he was beginning to suspect could complete him in ways he had never imagined.
...
Stop attempting to piss him off?
Who the hell did he think he was?
Glaring up at him, standing stiffly beside him as they stepped into the elevator, Gypsy was all too aware of the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t really fight him.
She could have escaped him a dozen times during that damned ride. She knew exactly how to deactivate the door locks on those stupid Dragoons. Yet she had been unable to make herself do so.
Instead, she had sat silently, refusing to respond to his attempts to talk to her, to ease the anger still simmering inside her. To soothe the aching hurt that still lanced at her heart.
It wasn’t just anger or hurt, though.
She ached for him.
Especially since that kiss had fired every freaking neural receptor in her system.
She ached for him with a power that shocked her and infuriated her. Because she should hate him.
She should hate what he was doing to her. What her body was doing to her and her complete inability to make it stop or to control it.
The arousal, her hunger for his touch, his possession, had her stifling a scream of outrage.
Because it wasn’t fair.
Her jeans had to be damp. She knew her panties were soaked. Her nipples were so damned hard that each rasp of her bra against them only primed her higher for his touch.
Hell, his touch was all she could think about.
His touch.
His kiss.
His lips on her nipples, between her thighs.
Her thighs clenched at the thought. Her fantasies hadn’t come close to the pleasure he had given her, even before he’d jumped from her as though she sickened him.
The pleasure had been incredible. It had whipped through her, searing her body with increasingly powerful sensations until that edge of release she’d touched had been a second of pure nirvana. A pleasure unlike anything she’d imagined in her life.
And she had a damned good imagination.
The elevator doors slid open on the floor where his suite was located. Tightening his grip on her upper arm once again, he all but dragged her to the doors, where he pressed his thumb to the biometric lock—a new installation, she noticed suspiciously—opened the doors, then pulled her inside.