“ Cher , if you haven’t noticed yet, normal is not a part of my genetics. Should I give you another example of this?”
She backed up as his hands came out of his pockets and rested comfortably at his sides instead.
“Sex is not going to get you out of this,” she hissed. “There’s not enough sex to make up for deliberately attacking someone who hadn’t attacked you.”
“He touched you. He caused you pain.” Saban shrugged, though his expression tightened. “That is all the reason I need.”
Then he turned away. He turned away as though it didn’t matter, as though his decisions were all that mattered and were all that was important.
“Don’t you do that.” Natalie could feel herself shaking inside and out.
“Do what? Drop this little spat we’re having?” He turned back to her, a smooth, powerful flex of muscle as he faced her once again. “We won’t agree on this, Natalie. Whether you want to believe it or not, Mike Claxton means you harm, and I won’t allow it to happen. You disagree, and that’s fine. That
doesn’t mean that I’ll not put a stop to it. Now, if you’re not willing to cool off that heat building inside you with a little therapeutic sex, then I could use a snack. Are you hungry?”
Was she hungry?
Her lips parted in shock. He didn’t want to argue? He wasn’t going to fight over it?
“Since when?” She followed him rapidly. “Since when do you not want to fight? You’re male, right?”
He flashed her a wicked grin over his shoulder. “You should know by now.”
Oh God yes, she knew. She knew his hard, calloused hands holding her to him, the feel of his mouth devouring her, his c**k destroying her. And she knew the cold, icy fury in his face when he had held Mike’s neck in his grip, slowly choking him to death.
“You can’t just attack people who piss you off, Saban. Especially men. I have to deal with men daily at work, I can’t afford this.”
“Then they’d best have the good sense to keep their hands off you.” He opened the door of the fridge, bent, and looked inside before pulling free a gallon of milk. Natalie stood and stared at him, anger shuddering through her body.
“It doesn’t work that way, dammit,” she cursed.
He set a glass on the counter, poured it full of milk, then, lifting the glass, turned and faced her.
“Bet me.” His eyes gleamed in amusement as he lifted the glass and drank. A man drinking whiskey was sexy. A man with a bottle of beer could be sexy. But a man drinking a glass of milk should not have been sexy. Unfortunately, Saban could make it erotic, especially when he lowered the glass and licked over his lower lip with sensual male awareness. Natalie felt her stomach tighten, felt her pu**y cream furiously as she remembered the enjoyment on his face as he licked her just like that.
“You’re being unreasonable.” She forced her fingers to uncurl from the fists they were making, to stretch as she strove to make sense of this attitude. He’d been ready to kill Mike. Now he was watching her with amused playfulness.
“You do not attack anyone for something so insane as touching me when they aren’t aware of this stupid mating heat,” she retorted, feeling off center, uncertain of her own anger now. It was damned hard for a woman to fight with a man when he was watching her like a piece of candy that he was dying to taste.
“We’ll see.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“We’ll see?” she pushed through her teeth, that anger rising again, along with the need, the hunger. She hated this. It was insane. The madder she got at him, the hornier she got, and that wasn’t a good combination. “The next time you attack someone, I’ll have you arrested myself,” she threw out rashly. “I won’t allow it.”
His expression changed then. Predatory, arrogant. This was the Jaguar Breed, the frightening, sensual animal she always felt lurking beneath the surface.
“You won’t allow it?” His voice rumbled with a growl, slurring the words with just enough primal power that it sent a chill racing down her spine.
“I won’t allow it.” She felt the shudder that tore through her body as the amusement fled his gaze, and savage arousal filled it instead.
He moved toward her.
Natalie wasn’t retreating. She wasn’t backing down on this, and she was not going to allow him to railroad her into agreeing that he could attack whenever and wherever he chose. If she didn’t put her foot down now, if she didn’t stop it now, then there would be no end to it. He would believe he could run over her anytime he wanted, however he wanted.
Start as you mean to go on, her mother had always warned her. She had tried doing that with Mike, tried to stay firm, and he had run over her. He had frightened her, her love for him had excused him, and she had spent three miserable years trying to make a marriage work that was doomed from the start.
“I pulled back for you,” he rumbled as he came closer. “I let the bastard go, because you said ‘please,’
because the pain in your voice for that piece of shit was more than I could bear. Did you see the look on his face when he gripped your arm, when he saw the pain it caused you?”
Natalie shook her head, denying the question.
“Oh, you saw all right, boo .” His lip curled in anger. “You saw the satisfaction, the glee in his eyes, and I smelled it. I smelled it, and I swore I would kill him for it.”
“You can’t just go killing people over something like that.” She smacked her hands against his chest, tried to push him back.
His hands lifted then, smoothed down her arms, and a shiver raced across her flesh.
“He still breathes,” Saban snarled.
“Barely!” she bit out. “Do you think that makes what you did okay?”
“I think it made it very dissatisfying,” he said softly, dangerously. “Killing him would have been preferable at that time, but losing you over it wouldn’t have been worth it. That doesn’t mean I’ll allow him to get away with it. He’ll be more careful in the future, and so, mate, will you be more careful. The next man that comes at you in anger, get the hell out of my way. Because the more harm he causes you, the greater his chances of meeting his eternal maker.” Each word shortened, roughened, until he finished with a harsh, furious growl.