Page 61 of Lethal Threat

Tempting.

I stop just inches from him and take in his scent. Pulling it deep into my soul.

“I need something from you,” I whisper.

My heart thumps as I reach for him and press my palms into his flannel shirt. He’s breathing hard, but it’s not fromexertion.

My mouth has gone so dry it’s hard to speak. “Please hold me.”

Please.I look right into his beautiful eyes, deep into his soul.

With a rough sound, Cole drags me against him.

A deep, fast exhale stirs my hair, warms my skin. He whispers, “Every night I’ve thought of you.”

I must have thought of him. I must have missed him with every cell in my body.

“I don’t understand any of this, Cole.” My lips tremble as my eyes drift closed. “But even though I can’t make sense of it and I can’t recall us, I am on fire for you.”

The growl that rumbles through him vibrates between us. “I want you so fucking bad, Sierra.”

My blood ignites like a river of gasoline.

A torrent of need is unleashed inside of my core.

He brushes my hair back and presses his mouth against my temple. His voice turns to gravel. “I’m wrecked.”

“Me too,” I whisper back.

His lips press gently against the bruise on my cheek, then trail lower, stopping against the angle of my jaw. He inhales slowly as his hands tighten around my waist.

This touch feels so different from when he kissed me in the apartment.

Need throbs between us. Powerful, deep.

The intensity scares me and thrills me at the same time.

I rise on my toes and press closer to him. “You feel so good.”

He murmurs, “Careful, Sierra. You have no idea how bad I want to be inside your tight, slick heat right now. Buried so deep that we meld into one damaged soul.”

His words burn a path through me.

Wreck me all over again. I’m helpless to resist. I nodagainst his chest. A shiver races down my arms and makes my fingertips tingle. My core pulses rhythmically. My toes curl on the cool wooden floor. “What’s holding you back?”

He drags his beard scruff against my neck and kisses the heated trail his whiskers left. “You're not ready.”

“I’m fine. The injuries aren’t that bad.”

“It’s more than just your cuts and bruises. I want you fully aware of who you’re getting involved with if you go to bed with me.”

I twist my hand in his soft, gray and black flannel shirt and tug him even closer. “Tell me. Then show me.”

This has the opposite effect of what I want. He pulls back and looks down at me. There is an internal war raging behind his eyes.

With gentle pressure, he grips my jaw. “You’re not ready to talk about it all.”

My tongue licks across my lips, trying to soothe the hunger for him. “I am. I can take it.”