In For the Kill by Shannon McKenna Page A

fleeting moment. He wanted so much more.
    His stark gaze pierced her like a needle. It made her want to die.
    He got up and stumbled into the bathroom. Water ran. He came out holding out a glass. She nodded her thanks and drank.
    â€œYour turn,” he said.
    She was almost afraid to ask. “Ah . . . for what?”
    He took the glass and tossed off the last gulp himself. “Cunnilingus,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let’s get down to it.”
    She laughed, startled. “This is not a game where we score points!”
    â€œThe hell it’s not.” He set the glass down on the bedstand. “I love going down, and I have been told that I am reasonably good at it. I’ve been dreaming for years about putting my face between your legs. So let’s get on with it, before you get sick of my whining bullshit and blow me off definitively.” He gripped her hips, dragged her across the mattress. Her torso fell backward.
    She struggled up onto her elbows. “Wow! Smooth lead-in, Sam!”
    â€œYeah, I know. I’m actually a civilized guy, under normal circumstances,” he said. “But you’re not normal circumstances. Rude stuff just falls out of my mouth with you. I’d apologize, if my basic socialization skills were functioning, but they’re not. Filter failure.”
    He was holding her thighs open with his big, hot hands. She tried, without success, to pry them off. “I’m glad you have filter failure,” she said. “I prefer the truth. Even when it makes me angry.”
    â€œThat’s fortunate,” he said, pushing her legs wider. His gaze narrowed at her resistance. “Relax, Sveti.”
    She kept her back straight, her chin high, her gaze steady. “I don’t take orders well,” she said. “You sound angry and controlling, and that does not make me want to open my legs.”
    Sam ran his fingers through his wild mane of hair. “Goddamnit, Sveti,” he snarled. “Just let me fulfil my function as a disposable sex toy, okay? Just let me make up for hurting you! Give me that, at least!”
    â€œYou’re not a disposable toy. And you sound so grim about it!”
    â€œSorry I’m not in a more playful mood, but there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do right now than put my face between your legs.”
    His raw tone unnerved her. “But you’re so angry.”
    â€œYeah,” he admitted. “Angry at myself for wanting you, angry at myself for hurting you—”
    â€œI’m not hurt, goddamnit!”
    â€œAngry that you’re leaving,” he went on, as if she had not spoken. “Fucking furious that you waited until now to give it up to me. You needed a plane ticket to Europe in your hand before you dared to touch me. A ready escape route, right? Just in case you actually liked it.”
    She wrapped her arms over her chest, shivering. “That’s not true.”
    â€œFace it,” he said. “I suck as a casual sex toy, at least for you. I can’t help it and I can’t hide it. I’m angry that you want so goddamn little from me. And now I’ve got no place to put all the rest of it.”
    She closed her eyes against the pain in his voice. There was no skating over it now. There it was, out on the table.
    â€œIt may seem little to you,” she whispered. “But it’s huge to me.”
    He seized her, pinned her down onto the bed. She fought him, even though she didn’t want to. She ached for him, craved him, but the convulsive resistance was a pre-programmed reflex. It made her jittery and crazy and confused. But he did not relent. He pinned her straining, heaving body down, and slid down the length of her, his big hands clamped on her inner thighs. Staring hot-eyed at her pussy.
    â€œWait.” She was racked by spasms of unreasonable panic. “Don’t.”
    â€œI won’t hurt you,” he assured her.