The Recruit by Monica McCarty

The Recruit by Monica McCarty

Author:Monica McCarty [McCarty, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780345535993
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2012-10-30T07:00:00+00:00


Fifteen

At first when Kenneth’s hand slid over the slight roundness, it didn’t penetrate. He was so half out of his mind with lust that he couldn’t completely process what he was feeling.

She was so soft and sweet. She felt so good in his arms. The urgent little sounds she was making were driving him wild. All he could think about was getting inside her. He wanted to possess her. Claim her. Force her to acknowledge the strange connection between them.

He’d never felt anything like this before, and damn it, he needed to know she felt it, too.

But slowly the vague prickle at the back of his consciousness grew. Eventually understanding slid through the fiery haze of his passion like a blade, splitting it apart from end to end, leaving nothing but cold rage.

He didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it. But the truth swelled under his hand.

Suddenly the changes he’d noticed in her took on a very different meaning—as did her anxiousness to leave.

He jerked his hand away and stepped back from her as if scalded. Hell, he had been. Burned and betrayed.

“You are with child.” His voice was every bit as harsh and cold as he felt.

This time the fear in her eyes was warranted. Emotion crackled and fired dangerously inside him as he struggled for control. But the battle had already been lost. His hands clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body tensed and flared.

She didn’t say anything, his anger seeming to have rendered her mute. She just stared up at him with big blue eyes, looking so damned vulnerable, so ridiculously innocent. But she was neither.

“How long?” His voice cracked like the whip flailing inside him. He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her up against him. “How long?” he repeated, not caring that he was scaring her. “And don’t think about lying to me.”

“I, I—” Her eyes skittered away, for once unchallenging. But he was too furious to enjoy it.

“It’s mine,” he said flatly. He’d known it from the first moment his hand swept over the soft swell. He didn’t need her to confirm it, but damn it, she would. “Tell me, damn it.”

Maybe if she’d begged for understanding. Maybe if she’d continued her moment of feminine meekness and contriteness, he might have reacted differently. But the defiance and cool challenge that had pricked him from the first returned.

He was angrier than he could ever recall, and she didn’t care. He’d seen fierce warriors quake in their boots when he lost his temper, but she stood toe-to-toe with him, utterly oblivious to the danger. Apparently, she knew just as well as he did that there wasn’t any. No matter how angry, how furious, he would never hurt her. He wasn’t used to fighting without the advantage of physical strength, and it was bloody disconcerting.

“It’s mine!” she shouted, twisting her arm out of his hold. “Yours may have been the seed that took root, but the child is mine. I want nothing from you, as I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear.



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