Page 2 of His to Burn
Just stood there, listening.
A predator.
And prey.
He finally turned.
Fast.
Grabbed my shoulders and slammed me into the wall.
White, either shock or pain, burst behind my eyes.
My gasp echoed down the corridor.
God, it was so loud.
He glared at me. “Quiet,” he rasped, his voice seeming to come from low in his chest.
It wasn’t a request.
At the sound, something slick and awful again twisted low inside me.
My thighs clenched on instinct, and I pressed closer to the wall, needing to be away from him.
There was nowhere to go.
His gaze dropped, following the frantic jump of my pulse.
Then his palm was there again.
Heavy.
Possessive.
Terrifying…and more.
A low, broken sound slipped out of me, and my gaze flew down the hall, searching for whatever lurked there.
Then came that rough rasp. “Look at me.”
I really,reallydidn’t want to.
But I did.
My breath trembled as my eyes locked with his.
When he spoke, it wasn’t a question.
“You’re scared,” he said, his voice curling around me like a snake.
Like the fear I couldn’t hide was something he wanted to savor.
Heat rolled through me, disorienting, almost painful in its intensity.
He tightened his grip, his eyes boring into mine, making sure he had my attention.
Like I could focus on anything else.
