Dark Swan by Gena Showalter

Author:Gena Showalter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Star

8

Dallas had been pacing inside his bedroom for hours. The entire time, Lilica had slept on his bed. His own personal Sleeping Beauty.

At the lab, when she’d gone limp in his arms, he’d almost passed out himself. Somehow he’d found the strength to stay awake and dress her in her bra, panties, and the shirt off his back. He’d had other options. Like her own clothing. But he’d wanted her perfect body draped in his clothing, her skin touched by his scent. A possessive instinct he hadn’t been able to override.

He’d driven her here because he’d needed her here. He’d needed his woman surrounded by his things. As soon as he’d tucked her into bed, a sense of contentment had sprouted, and it had only grown.

What was he going to do with her?

His resistance to her—to a future with her—was crumbling fast and would soon be nothing but a pile of ruin. When she’d stripped for him, he’d basically had a near-death experience. Ecstasy overdose. Her nipples had glittered like pink diamonds, and the scrolls etched on her flesh had glowed softly, like a thousand rose-scented candles meant to set the mood.

Moth to flame? Yeah, he finally understood the phrase. He would do anything to follow those marks with his tongue, no matter the end result. Hunger clawed at him, leaving him raw and aching, nothing but exposed nerve endings and raging testosterone.

Why had he knocked her out? Why had he turned her down? How stupid could he be! She was everything he’d never known he needed.

If Lilica wanted him to attempt to save Trinity after the disease died, he would attempt to save her.

What’s wrong with me?

With a gasp, Lilica sat upright. Her wild gaze scanned her new surroundings.

Incapable of staying away, he strode to the side of the bed and eased down beside her. Moth. Flame. Going to get burned. Didn’t matter. He had to touch her.

No, no. Not without permission. Only a few hours ago, he’d knocked her out to save himself from temptation. Because he’d wanted her, and she’d only wanted to control him.

His body cried: Want me the way I want you.

She would be frightened of him, or determined to hurt him back. He had to tread carefully.

“Where am I?” she demanded.

He hardened instantly. Her voice had always made him think of sex, lots and lots of dirty sex, and the forced nap had only made it worse.

“You’re in my apartment.”

He tried to look at the bedroom through her eyes. Everything screamed bachelor. The bare walls he’d never cared about decorating. The king-size bed with a light-brown comforter. The nightstand filled with condoms. The minifridge in the corner, currently stocked with beer.

Her northern lights gaze roved over him, softened . . . and then sharpened. Her leg shot out from under the covers to kick him off the mattress. “Bastard!” She stood, fury pulsing from her.

He thumped on the floor and, glaring, jumped to his feet. “I’m a bastard, yes, but you’re worse. You were using me to save your sister.

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