Page 24 of Scavenger's Oath

Her tangled blonde hair looks so soft, her cheeks and cute barbie nose, dusted with freckles like kisses. And those full lips—goddamn—the kind you want to bite, just to hear her scream.

Her smooth skin glistens in the moonlight and I can see her figure perfectly since Zane’s blanket-of-betrayal has slipped off the bed.

The white singlet clings to the curves of her body, threadbare enough that I can make out her breasts as they rise and fall with each breath. The khaki shorts hug her hips just right, drawing my eyes to the dip of her waist and the sweep of her thighs.

She looks like something made to be held. My cock is hard as a rock simply from watching her sleep.

Curling my fists around the bars, I watch her, soaking in her presence as if she's some kind of drug. Like if I stare hard enough, I’ll be satisfied. But I’ll never have enough of her.

I’ve never felt so sure of something in my life. I don't give a damn what the boys think. She's here and she's mine. She just won’t admit it yet.

Unable to resist any longer, I reach through the bars.

Just one touch.

My fingers gently brush her thigh. So warm and smooth.

She flinches like I branded her, eyes snapping open. And for a second, I think maybe she feels it too. Maybe she was dreaming of this.

But her eyes are wild as she scurries backward so fast she nearly falls off the cot. She scrambles until her back hits the wall, chest heaving.

That look—as if I'm something to be feared—cuts through me sharper than a blade.

Narrowing my eyes, I pull my hand back, slow and disdainful.

I thought we were past this fear. All the progress we made this week. It’s a stinging slap across the face.

She needs me. I know she does. But she's looking at me like I'm nothing but danger.

My jaw clenches. Rage twisting in my chest.

Before I can even think about it, I'm moving.

The cell door slams open with a crack that echoes through the building. The sound bounces off the concrete walls, loud and final, my boots pounding like war drums as I storm inside.

She freezes, eyes wide, shoulders pressed tight to the wall as if she's trying to squeeze between the cracks.

“Don't run from me,” I growl, shaking with something feral. “Don't flinch from me.”

She just stares, trembling, like she's waiting for shrapnel from my explosion to hit her.

Every muscle in my body pulls tight.

I can feel it. How close I am to doing something I can't take back. Feel it in my blood. In the way she looks at me like I'm the monster under her bed. Not the man who’s offering her a new life.

Why can’t she see? I can give her everything.

My heart hammers against my ribs, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles burn. Every part of me screams to make her see me. Make her understand.

I can't stand that look on her face right now. I'm losing control.

Turning on a dime, I slam my fist into the concrete wall.

“Fuck!”

Pain flares in my knuckles, but it doesn't fix the ache in my chest. Nothing feels right now. Not even her.

Especially not her. Not with that look in her eyes.