When she reached her room, he managed to push his way in behind her before she could slam the door in his face, which had been her intention. After the way she’d broken down in front of him the night before, the last thing she wanted was to be alone with him.
Instead of moving deeper into the room, Carla leaned back against the door after she’d shut it, and crossed her arms over her chest again. The graze on her side from the bullet was no longer hurting, thanks to her healing abilities. It’d already scabbed over and probably would have been gone in a day or two, if she weren’t so run-down at the moment.
“Did you get the guns?” she asked, watching him pace along the foot of her queen-size bed, his big hands braced on his hips. He was dressed like the badass mercenary he was, wearing black boots, a faded pair of jeans that perfectly molded his muscular thighs, and a black T-shirt, its short sleeves stretched tight around his powerful biceps. Wherever you looked, his tall body was hard and sinewed and ripped. Even his hair-dusted forearms were mouthwatering, with heavy veins and ridges of muscle pressing against his scarred, golden skin. Then there were his thick wrists. And those big, masculine hands...
“Yeah, we got them.” He sounded distracted, and she could sense his agitation and his...hunger. She just couldn’t tell who or what it was for. Her? Food? A fight? Or some woman she didn’t even know? The bond wasn’t strong enough to give her any definitive answers—just annoying enough to mess with her head.
Pushing her bangs out of her eyes, she went for the safest topic she could think of to take her mind off her nerves. “I noticed that both of the trucks were missing from the parking lot. Did the guys go out somewhere?”
“Yeah,” he muttered without even looking in her direction. “They’re out finding women.”
“Ahh.”
He stopped in the middle of the floor and shot her a piercing look, the lamp on her bedside table casting a soft spill of light over his right side, while his left was bathed in shadow. Voice low and rough, he asked, “Given their agenda for the night, why do you think Lev was here with you?”
“How would I know?” she snapped, throwing her arms out wide in a gesture of frustration. “Maybe he just liked the idea of spending time with a woman he knew wasn’t going to have sex with him?”
He didn’t make any verbal response to her outburst. He simply folded his arms over his broad chest, the black cotton stretching tight across his solid pecs, and glared at her.
“The truth is I don’t know what he was thinking, Eli. I just know that you’re acting like an ass.”
Moving with the slow, predatory precision of a hunter, he lowered his arms and came toward her, his heavy-lidded gaze so hot she felt scorched. “You keep pushing me like this, Rey, and I’m gonna start thinking you want me to do something about it.”
She shook her head. “Am I even meant to know what that means?”
He came even closer, until she had to tilt her head back in order to hold his gaze. “It means that if you think you can get my attention by flirting with my men, you’re going to end up getting a hell of a lot more than you bargained for.”
Pushing off from the door, she jabbed her finger in the middle of his chest. “Back off. You have no claim on me, so stop the act. I’m not buying it.”
“You think it’s an act?” he rasped, the softness of his voice giving her chills.
“I know it is!”
He had her backed against the door before she even knew it was happening, pinning her there with his big, muscular body, his rigid erection pressed hard against her stomach. Cupping her jaw, he tilted her head back even more, and put his face right over hers, so close their noses were nearly touching. “This feel like an act to you, Rey?” he asked huskily, his warm breath coasting over her lips.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warned. Though the effect was kind of ruined by her quickening breaths and flushed cheeks.
His eyes were still angry and hot, but the corner of his mouth kicked up in one of those deliciously wicked, crooked grins that had always made her melt. “Baby, I can’t seem to think about anything else.”
“Try—harder,” she sniped. “Because I’m seriously not interested in being your sloppy seconds, Eli.”
It seemed to take him a moment to figure out what she was getting at, and then his expression darkened. “I didn’t touch the blonde,” he told her, biting out each word.
A harsh, humorless laugh jerked up from her chest. “Oh, really? So she just happened to pick your random lap to pass out in last night?”
That muscle started to pulse in his jaw again, the day’s growth of stubble looking damn good on him. “What she was doing there isn’t any of your business.”
“Exactly!” she yelled, shoving hard at his shoulders. “So get the hell away from me!”
Catching her wrists, he pinned them against the door on either side of her head, the tight tips of her breasts pushing into his muscular chest as he pressed even closer.
“Tell me you don’t feel this the same way that I do,” he said against her lips, rubbing them softly with his. “Tell me and I’ll leave you alone, Rey.”
“Damn you,” she moaned.
He laughed roughly, the low sound deep and dark and sumptuous, like he was suddenly feeling happy and hungry all at the same time. “That’s what I thought, baby.”
And then, before she could blink or scream or draw her next breath, his mouth covered hers and his hands left her wrists, laying claim to her body. His touch was aggressive, greedy, as if he’d wanted the feel of her under his hands for too damn long to control himself, while his kisses were...mouthwatering. Slow, deep, and deliciously intimate, his tongue stroking and rubbing, while he ate at the shivery, needy sounds that she made. He’d only just started this...this...whatever this was, and she was already lost, sinking into the moment like a weighted body being pulled deeper and deeper into the sea. Drowning...no longer even trying to resist. She only wanted to fall deeper because she’d been just as desperately starved for the feel and touch and taste of him. She didn’t even remember moving her hands when he released her wrists, but they were fisted in his shaggy hair, the silky strands so warm and thick against her fingers. She pulled him tighter against her, lost in the slick, explicit kiss that made her think of his powerful body moving and thrusting into hers. It was that intense. That raw and hungry and achingly erotic.
When he pulled his head back and suddenly buried his face against the side of her throat, Carla gulped at the cool air, her lungs starved. He was rolling his hips against hers, one hand shoved up under her shirt and bra, molding her heavy breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching the throbbing nipple, while his other hand gripped her hip, jerking her against him. She crawled up his hard, rugged body and wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him what he wanted. He notched the thick, heavy ridge of his erection against her jeans-covered sex and thrust against her, stroking her clit at just the right angle, and she cried out as her head shot back, hitting the door, the husky sound of her shout echoing off the room’s dingy walls.
“Need it in my hand,” he growled against her throat, breathing hard, his voice little more than an animal’s primitive snarl. His mouth was directly over the place where he’d started to mark her all those years ago, and she wondered if he even realized. “I need it now, Rey.”
In a distant part of her mind, she knew this was...wrong. Foolish. Dangerous. To her heart and her pride. She wasn’t meant to fall into his arms...or crawl up his body, holding him as if she wanted to crawl right inside of him. Claim him. Keep him. Forever. She knew that, damn it, but it didn’t matter. When he was touching her, the hot, drugging scent of him filling her head, his exquisite taste on her lips, nothing else mattered but him. Needing him. Wanting him. Getting him.
“Please,” she heard herself beg, too desperate to even care that she was pleading with him. With the monster who