Page 12 of Alien Devil's Prey
I was playing with fire, and I knew it. Some desperate part of me that was tired of being afraid wanted to see what would happen if I pushed him past his breaking point.
Then his control cracked.
I shoved at his chest, and he caught my wrists. His grip was firm, unyielding.
"Let go of me."
"No." The word was flat, final. "Not until you calm down."
"Calm down?" I laughed, the sound harsh in the small space. "You abducted me. You're holding me prisoner on this ship. And you want me to calm down?"
His grip tightened fractionally. "You're not a prisoner."
"Then let me go. Get off my ship."
"I can't do that."
The admission hung between us, raw and honest. I twisted in his grip, and he pulled me closer instead. My body collided with his, and I felt the hard planes of his chest, the heat radiating from his skin.
"You're afraid of me," he said, and there was something almost like wonder in his voice.
"I'm not afraid of you." The lie came easily, but my voice betrayed me with its breathiness.
"You should be."
The words were a warning, but they sounded more like a promise. His hands slid from my wrists to my shoulders, and I could feel the careful control in his touch. It made me want to push harder, to see what would happen if that control snapped.
"Why?" I challenged, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. "What are you going to do to me?"
Something shifted in his expression, something primal and hungry. His hands tightened on my shoulders, and I felt a thrill of fear mixed with something else—something I didn't want to acknowledge.
He spoke the words like a final warning. "You have no idea what you're inviting."
"Maybe I do."
The words surprised us both. I saw his eyes widen slightly, saw the way his nostrils flared as if he could scent my arousal. Because that's what it was, wasn't it? This twisted, unwanted heat that coiled in my belly every time he touched me. I hatedit. Hated him. Hated myself for wanting something I couldn't name.
"Tamsin." My name on his lips sounded like a prayer and a curse.
I reached up and grabbed the front of his flight suit, using it to pull myself closer. My fingers slid over the worn material, brushing against the leather cord of the pendant at his throat. The metal disk was cold against my knuckles for an instant, a sharp, solid point in the heat of the moment.
"You want me," I said, the words coming out like an accusation. "I can see it in your eyes."
His control cracked. "Yes," he admitted, the word torn from him.
"Then take me."
It was a challenge, a dare, a desperate attempt to seize control. I expected him to pull away. Instead, his hands fisted in my shirt, and he backed me against the bulkhead.
"You're playing with fire, and you think it's just a pretty light."
"I know exactly what I'm doing." I could feel the metal wall cold against my back, the heat of his body pressing against me. "I'm saying stop treating me like I'm made of glass. Stop pretending you're protecting me. If you want me, then take me."
The last thread of his control snapped.
His mouth crashed down on mine, hard and demanding. It was a claiming, pure and simple, and I met it with equal ferocity. My teeth caught his lower lip, and I tasted something metallic—blood, maybe, or just the tang of his skin.
He growled against my mouth, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, sliding under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin. Each touch sent sparks of sensation through me, and I arched against him, wanting more.
