He let her put distance between them. The predator in him rose to the surface, ready to give chase, and Michael reveled in that thrill. His throat burned with thirst and her scent enveloped him. Her soul called to him, pulling the tether between them taut. A growl of pure hunger vibrated in his chest and he overtook her in a blur of motion, slamming the heavy front door closed before she even had a chance to fully open it. “Back off,” she snapped without turning to face him.
He leaned in to her, breathed deeply of the sweet scent that clung to her. She wasn’t afraid of him but excited. Her arousal perfumed the air, intoxicated him, and robbed him of his senses. “You don’t want that, Claire, and you know it.”
She snorted. “The hell I don’t.”
Her hands dropped to her sides, palms laid flat against her thighs. Michael tilted his head toward hers, so close to the delicate skin of her throat that he trembled with restraint. “Then tell me again.” His voice was little more than a harsh whisper. “Tell me to back away, to let you walk out that door. Tell me you don’t want to be here and I’ll let you leave. Say you don’t feel me in every single particle of your being and I’ll let you go right now.”
* * *
Claire’s breath came in quick little pants and she pressed her palms tight against her thighs to keep them from shaking. The words formed on her tongue, but she couldn’t push them past her lips. His body loomed over hers, the wall of muscle that was his chest pressed tight against her back. The heat of his mouth brushed the skin of her throat and her lower abdomen clenched. Instead of saying the words she wanted to say, all she could do was think, Do it. Put your mouth on me. Just like that night in the club. In my dreams. Do it! As though she had no control over her own body, her head tilted to the right, sending her hair off of her shoulder to spill down her back, exposing her neck to him. A low rumble vibrated in Michael’s chest and he let out a shuddering breath.
“Gods, Claire. You’re a cruel female.”
His dark, smoky tone stirred her desire and from the center of her being she felt the invisible tug of whatever unexplainable force connected them. He was right, damn it. She didn’t want to leave. Didn’t think she could force her feet to take her out that door if she wanted to.
The urge to lean back, to let his big body support hers, was almost too great to resist. Claire swayed on her feet. His very presence made her light-headed. Giddy. Standing behind her, his body touching hers in more places than was appropriate, was a stranger. A cold-blooded killer. And who knew what else. And god help her, she wanted him. Wanted him like she wanted food, water, her next damned breath. She reached out with her right hand and clutched her left wrist, sliding her fingers along the ridges of the Patek’s wristband through the long sleeve of her shirt. Jesus, there was something seriously wrong with her. Was it too soon to blame her reaction to him on Stockholm syndrome?#p#分页标题#e#
“I want some answers,” she said. “And if you don’t give them to me, I’m going to go out and find them on my own.”
Again that sense of connection flared between them, sending a rush of anxious energy through Claire’s bloodstream. She felt his disappointment, as though he’d hoped to continue their power struggle. Who in the hell was this man who had such a visceral effect on her? And why could she not bring herself to leave his side?
The heat of his body left hers and Claire hugged her arms around her middle. Only a few feet separated them, but she was overcome with a profound awareness of his absence. She turned, her body whipping around much faster than she’d intended, to find him heading back into the massive living room, his stride long and purposeful.
“Come and take a seat, Claire,” he said without turning to face her. “I’ll try not to bite.”
A shiver raced across her skin at the innuendo. The heat in his words was unmistakable, and though she couldn’t see his face, she had a feeling that a very male, very satisfied smile accented his full mouth. It was like he could climb right inside her head and read her thoughts. Did he know that she wanted him to do just that? Seriously, she needed professional help.
He took a seat, facing her, on one of the wide, overstuffed sofas. There was a regality to his posture as he stretched his arms out over the back, his torso ramrod straight as he crossed an ankle over his knee. Relaxed. Confident. He commanded attention and would have owned the room had there been a hundred and fifty people crowding the space and not simply Claire.
“Ask your questions,” he said in that smooth, seductive voice. “I’m at your disposal.”