Obsession Untamed (Feral Warriors #2)(17)

Delaney’s mouth dropped open. Her heart went to her throat, and she leaped back from the bed, her pulse pounding as she readied for hand-to-hand combat.

He was little more than a blur in the shadows as he grabbed her. The room spun as he flung her facedown on the bed. She dug her face out of the sheets, trying to flip over, but he pinned her with a jeans-clad knee in the small of her back. Her pulse thudded in her throat as she watched him over her shoulder, tensing for his retribution.

“You tried to kill me.” His voice was flat as he loomed over her, staring down at her through those dark sunglasses she was beginning to suspect were permanently attached to his face. Who in their right mind slept in sunglasses?

She hated him for making her feel so blasted helpless. Fear slithered down her spine. With his strength, he could kill her with his bare hands without ever breaking a sweat.

Her breath caught, her body tensing, as she waited for him to do just that. But to her surprise, he climbed on top of her, straddling her hips.

She tried to push him off, tried to get to her knees, but she might as well have tried to lift a bus. He was playing with her. Toying with her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, brushing the hair back from her ear. In her peripheral vision, she saw his face lower, felt his lips on her ear, his tongue tracing the cartilage, then delving into the cavern, drawing a shiver from her.

Her heart thudded as his hand slid beneath her until his fingers found her nipple through her shirt and squeezed just hard enough to send fire shooting straight to her loins.

His tongue stroked her ear, his lips grazed her cheek. Gently, so gently. Toying with her before he struck.

His fingers moved under her, tugging at her shirt, pulling at her bra until his fingers were against her bare flesh, his palm warm against her breast. Her breathing turned ragged.

She felt his hand move again, releasing her breast. As the press of his thighs moved lower, to frame her own, he sat up and slipped his hand inside the waist of her sweatpants, his fingers sliding inside her panties to cup her butt cheek as he had her breast moments before. Then he leaned over her, his fingers kneading the flesh, his breath in her ear becoming as ragged as her own.

“You set me on fire.” His voice was low, pained, as his fingers dug into her, letting her feel his need, sending hers into an upward spiral.

He was half over her, half beside her when his palm flattened, his finger sliding into the crease of her bu**ocks and down, to stroke her swelling lips. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending a shaft of wet heat straight to her core. His finger slid inside her, meeting that rush of heat.

Delaney gasped, trying to arch into his touch, but with him still half-straddling her, she had nowhere to move, nowhere to go. He stroked her, playing with her until she was soft and hot and wild with need. Then he released her and rose, only to straddle her calves.

She tried to rise, her arms shaking, but he dug his fingers into her waistband and yanked downward, pulling her pants and panties down to her thighs in a single jerk of a move, baring her to the cool air. To his gaze. Stealing her last scrap of protection.

Heat turned to fear on the certainty that he meant to take his revenge upon her body. Panic flared, and she tried to roll away, but his palm fanned across the small of her back, slamming her to the mattress.

Her heart thudded. Her mouth went dry.

His free hand dug into her butt cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you.” But the thread of anger in his voice did nothing to reassure her.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. Fear knotted in her gut. If she was ready for him, it shouldn’t hurt, but if he wanted to hurt her, there were other ways. She knew too well the cruelty men could visit on women before they killed them. While they killed them. She had the crime photos hanging all over the walls of her living room to prove it.

She already knew this guy had a sick mind. God knew what he might…

“Don’t be afraid of me!”

She froze. “I’m not.” Her words sounded calm, soothing, despite the tears closing her throat. Long ago, she’d learned to keep her emotions out of her voice and expression, and she desperately called on that trick now.

His hand squeezed her rear to the point of pain as the tension in the air thickened. Slowly, his hand relaxed, and she began to breathe again.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But she didn’t believe him for a minute. As she struggled against his impossible hold, his hand released her aching flesh to slide between her legs. She tried to clamp her thighs together, desperate to escape his touch, fear spiraling out of her control.

He was going to hurt her. He wanted to hurt her, to punish her for attacking him.

“Dammit!” In a sudden move, he released her and flung himself off the bed.

Delaney shot to her knees, yanking her pants up and straightening her shirt and bra, then turned to find him pacing the room like a caged animal, his tight, coiled tension filling the room.

Definitely bipolar. With violent tendencies.

Her heart raced in her chest as she edged toward the side of the bed closest to the door. But as she sat and swung her legs over the side, he whirled on her, his finger pointing directly at her face.

“Stay!”

Delaney froze, her mind scrabbling, fighting down the instinct to flee. He was too fast. She’d never get away.

Deep breaths. He hadn’t attacked her. Other than squeezing her butt too hard, he hadn’t hurt her at all.