Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)(49)

She grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Your parents must be very proud of all you’ve accomplished,” he said, carefully watching the hardening of her expression.

“Not really.” She reached up to brush a damp curl from her cheek. “They never understood my love for computers. And they certainly didn’t want me leaving home to take a job so far away.”

Sinclair arched a brow. This female was strong, intelligent, well-educated and successful. What else could parents desire in their daughter?

“Why not?” he demanded.

She shook her head at the last bite, once again driving Sinclair nuts as she licked her lips clean.

“They thought I should follow in the footsteps of my older sister and marry a nice local boy and start producing a family.”

A low growl rumbled in Sinclair’s chest. Not only anger at her family for making her feel ‘less’ because of her choices, but also at the mere thought of some other male trying to claim her.

Mira Reese belonged to him.

Period.

“They were idiots,” he snarled. “And so was I.”

His confession of fault appeared to catch her off guard. She blinked. And then blinked again.

“What are you talking about?”

“They didn’t value you as they should have,” he said in rough tones.

She was instantly on the defensive. “They loved me.”

“I don’t doubt that, but they should have been supportive of your decision to seek your own career and independence,” he insisted. “You have a true gift with computers.”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” she agreed.

“Just as I should have honored your tender heart,” he continued, refusing to ignore his own culpability in allowing this exquisite female to believe she was anything less than perfect. “It’s a precious gift.”

“Sinclair,” she breathed, a lovely flush staining her cheeks.

Leaning forward with the intention of claiming her lips in a kiss of frustrated hunger, Sinclair abruptly halted. There was no missing the dark shadows beneath her eyes. She clearly was at the point of utter exhaustion.

With a muttered curse, he pulled back. “You should get some rest.”

Mira nervously glanced toward the bed, clearly judging the width.

“I’m not tired,” she said, as if determining there wasn’t enough space to avoid being pressed against him if they shared the mattress.

He squashed the image of holding her tight in his arms as she slept. No pouncing on his pretty female until she was ready.

“Sweetheart, you can’t fool a shifter. I can scent your weariness,” he assured her, grabbing the desk to move it back to the corner.

He heard her crawl across the mattress, then the soft sound of the sheets being pulled back.

“What about you?” she demanded.

Waiting until he was sure she was covered by the blankets, he slowly turned to meet her guarded gaze.

“What about me?”

“Are you going to rest?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll keep watch, we should be safe, but I don’t intend to take any chances.”

There was a long pause before her face abruptly paled. “Oh. Of course.”

He scowled, wondering what the hell had put that look of hurt in her eyes. Then, suddenly, he realized she thought that he didn’t want to share the bed with her.

He clenched his hands. Okay. Screw the whole ‘no pouncing’ thing.

With one long leap, he was on the bed, crouched over her rigid body.

“What are you doing?” she breathed, her eyes wide with shock.

He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “You were busy assuming that I’m standing guard because I don’t want to share the bed with you,” he growled.

She pressed her lips together. “It’s not really a secret you don’t find me physically attractive. I-”

Her words were cut off as he kissed her. Just like that.

Pressing his mouth against her plush lips, he moaned at her sweet taste. It was intoxicating. Addictive.

He grasped the headboard, his claws digging into the sturdy wood as he battled back the urge to consume her.

“Sinclair,” she said, her hands lifting to press against his chest.

“Shut up,” he growled.

She stiffened in outrage. “What did you say?”

Sinclair was in no mood to back down. She could accuse him of many things. But to imply that he wasn’t desperate to have her as his lover was ridiculous.

“Shut.” Another fierce kiss. “Up.”

She grabbed his t-shirt, tilting back her head to glare at him.

“You do realize where my knee is, don’t you?”

He chuckled, not particularly worried despite the fact that her knee was only inches from his cock.

In fact, he boldly grabbed her hand, tugging it down to press it against his raging hard-on.

“There,” he breathed. “Does that feel like I don’t find you physically attractive?”

The tantalizing scent of her arousal filled the air. Still, she stubbornly refused to believe the obvious evidence of his desire.

“You barely kissed me in all the time we’ve known each other,” she accused.

“Christ, Mira, it was bad enough to know that I was allowing you to put yourself in danger-”