“Stay still, dammit. I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled as she twisted against him, despite the fact that she wasn’t gaining any headway in her struggles.
She was frightened. He could hear it in her harsh breathing, the struggle to hold back her sobs. She had taken a chance and now she would fear the punishment he would exact. But he was careful not to hurt her. He restrained her, controlled her struggles, but he knew he wasn’t leaving so much as the slightest mark against her skin. Skin already bruised, already wounded by too many hard knocks. He pressed against her, holding her to the door as he stared down at her silently, feeling her soft tummy cushion his raging cock. And she hadn’t missed the impact of the steel-hard flesh pressing against her either. That or the imperative need he allowed to glitter in his eyes. One hand threaded through her hair, tilting her head back. His head lowered slowly as he stared down at her, watching her eyes dilate, her skin flush then pale alarmingly.
“When I let you go,” he allowed the growl building in his chest to echo in his words, “if I were you, I would turn that sweet ass around and hightail it back into the bedroom with Cassie. If you hesitate, even for a second, if you so much as breathe a hesitation, then I’m going to f**k you so hard and so deep against this door that you’ll never hide your screams of pleasure from that child sleeping in the other room. Do you understand me, Elizabeth?”
His control was a fragile thing right now. The only thing stilling the hunger to taste her parted lips was the knowledge that Cassie slept only feet away from them. The fact that if he tasted her, he would need more. Always more.
Her eyes widened further, the blue darkening in shock, in amazement. Strangely enough, also with a flare of arousal. Thankfully, she nodded quickly, but nothing could still the fact that her full br**sts were rising and falling sharply against his chest. And her ni**les were hard. Damn her to hell, they were hard as little pebbles, raking across his damp chest like pinpoints of searing flames beneath the covering of her shirt. He moved his hand from her hair, gripping her wrists individually. Before she could resist, he wrapped the fingers of one of her small hands around the girth of his cock. They had no hope of circling it fully. She had small, delicate—God, soft hands. His groan was throttled, a sound of agonizing pleasure.
“Never,” he snarled desperately. “Never, Elizabeth, try this on me again unless you’re prepared to accept the consequences. Because next time, I promise you, I won’t let you go.”
He stepped back from her quickly, his heart nearly exploding in his chest at the brief hesitation of her fingers on his erection as he released her. Then she snatched her hand back, holding it to her chest, staring up at him, her lips parted, startled awareness darkening her eyes further.
“Go. Now.” He clenched his fists. Fought his hunger.
She gasped. In a second she turned, fumbled with the doorknob and fled the small room as Dash threw his head back and grimaced against the building fury in his loins. Damn her to hell. He was starving for the taste of her.
He stepped back into the shower, slammed the curtain closed and flipped on the cold water. Son of a bitch. This hard-on would kill him.
Chapter Five
She should be running. Elizabeth paced the motel room, her body shuddering with wicked, pulsing tremors that teased at the emptiness between her thighs. She should have bundled Cassie up and just run. Storm or no storm. She was in over her head here in a way she feared was certain to drown her. She didn’t even know him. That thought seared her senses as she collapsed into one of the two chairs by the table. She knew nothing except the short, cryptic notes he had sent her daughter for a year. Sometimes humorous, but always with a dry, wry humor that had Elizabeth shaking her head. Cassie had liked them, though. She would giggle and say Dash just had trouble telling tales, to give him time and she would teach him. And perhaps in a way, she had. The last few months Dash had written to Cassie, he told her the oddest things. How the scents of the desert were different from home. The sound of a helicopter. The quiet, cold nights in the mountains of a land Cassie would likely never see herself. Little things. But not exactly phrased the way other men would say it. At least, no men Elizabeth had ever known before or since.
She stared over at the television. The newscasters were once again covering the story of the amazing discovery of the Feline Breeds. The men and women who had come forward were the wonders of the world at the moment. News reports had covered several rescues of other Breeds, a few Wolf Breeds but mostly Feline Breeds. They were totalling in the hundreds now, six months after the first newsbreak. Amazing. Elizabeth shook her head. The cruelty of man never failed to amaze her. They had been created, trained, then hunted as though their DNA made them no more than the animals they were genetically related to. Like a modern day safari, uncaring of the brutality or the horror they perpetrated, the Genetics Council had done everything to destroy their creations when they couldn’t control them. Yet, somehow, rather than reverting to the savagery that was obviously a part of their DNA, the Breeds had instead maintained an honor, a strength, that had helped them to survive the cruelties. Elizabeth envied them in many ways. Even the females were strong, tough, trained to fight and capable of protecting themselves. It made her feel insignificant, very lacking, and she hated that feeling. Hated knowing her own faults, her own weaknesses. She hated the fact that she wanted nothing more than to feel Dash’s arms around her again, for just a few wild moments, to forget the dangers and the pain and to be a woman once again.
She sighed wearily and pulled a cup of hot black coffee from one of the sacks. There was a cola there as well. The other bags were packed with food. Two larger ones held five Styrofoam breakfast platters. The smaller ones held a variety of biscuits. But she imagined a man that large could eat a lot of food. Her stomach rumbled imperatively and she shook her head at the timing. She needed to think. To run. Not realize the smell of food was so enticing that she had centered on it more than she had escape. But it wasn’t as enticing as what she had held in her hand moments before. Elizabeth felt her entire body heat; flush in what she assured herself was embarrassment. Liquid warmth gathered in her vagina, spilling silkily along the swollen lips of her cunt. Her response to him had been as hard, as shocking, as a lightning bolt.
She sipped at the coffee, her eyes fluttering in pleasure at the taste, then dug out one of the platters and a plastic fork. Okay. She couldn’t think while she was starving. And she had to think. Dash Sinclair was going to be more of a problem than she had ever anticipated. He could possibly be more man than she had ever encountered.