Page 8 of Take

I caught his gaze looking me up and down as if he was contemplating whether to toss me against the wall and fuck me before we died or take his chances and hope we made it out alive then fuck me. And for some crazy screwed-up reason, the thought had my heart racing and my sex clenching. But when Jasper looked at me with heat blazing in his eyes I felt—wanted. Desired.

But I was damaged goods and I didn’t have sex—period. Sex was carnal and filled with emotion. There was too much of a chance my shields would falter and he’d see more of who I was. And the consequences of that ever getting out . . . it was safer for everyone this way.

He lowered his voice and nodded to the stairwell. “I’m guessing ten trained men with high-powered guns. That’s the bad news. The good . . .” he grinned. “I fight harder turned on.”

I never wanted to slap someone before; I just didn’t care enough to have anyone piss me off—until Jasper. Now I wanted to slap him and then . . . kiss him. Jesus. What the hell was wrong with me?

The men’s footsteps crunching on broken pieces of glass, china, and whatever else they’d destroyed, blanketed any crazy desire I was fighting. Xamien was going to be pissed and Xamien pissed meant there would be hell to pay. He was cool, calm and had the patience of a saint, but when Xamien lost it he was a tsunami.

“Stay the fuck behind me. I get shot, knifed, whatever, you can heal my ass.”

My stomach plummeted. “What?” How did he know I was a Healer? No one knew.

He opened the door. “Babe, the moment I touched you, I knew.”

My head spun and knees weakened. “Did you tell anyone?”

He hesitated, eyes watching me as if he was assessing something. “Nope. Let’s go.” He chin-lifted to the left, which led to the rear of the house, then let go of my hand. His back to the wall, he moved along it, knife in his hand, gun in his pants at the small of his back. His steps quickly ate up the ground, but he was quiet and calm.

Jasper stopped, turned toward me, dragged his eyes down my front and then yanked off his black t-shirt and tossed it to me.

I stared at it for a second, then at his naked chest that was a hard slab of muscle with tats drawn across his left shoulder to link with the ones on his arm.

“Put it on. You stick out like a fuckin’ cotton candy with those stupid horse sparkles.”

I quickly put it on over my top and it hung down to my mid-thigh. The scent of him drew into my lungs and I inhaled deeply with my chin down until I heard his distinct chuckle. Then I wanted to shoot myself in the foot.

Jasper’s hand came around the back of my neck and he jerked me toward him. He cupped my chin with his blade still in his hand so the handle was cold against my jaw. Then he leaned in and before I could take my next breath, his mouth was on mine.

I was so astonished I just stood there and let him kiss me. We had men coming after us. He was shot in the leg and he was kissing me and it was . . . Jesus, it was penetrating and unforgiving and hard.

It was beautiful.

I hadn’t had much beauty in my life, but this . . . the urgency in him. The need. It encompassed me and I sagged against him, while his unyielding mouth moved against mine with possession.

He let me go and without a word headed for the stairs.

I stood frozen, lips swollen and knees weak.

He glanced back at me. “Wait until I have my cock in you.”

I huffed as each butterfly was murdered and plummeted to a painful death in the pit of my stomach.

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