Page 53 of Bad Wolf's Nanny
Her stomach turned cold, “And Rick thinks I might smuggle him in? Threaten the pack?”
“Rick thinks if he stares hard enough at people, they’ll betray themselves.” He stepped closer again. “But it’s serious, Lola. I need you to listen to me, because this is the part I can’t compromise on.”
She straightened, chewing her lip. “Okay.”
“If something happens, if things go bad, you take Sam and you run. Don’t wait for me. Don’t try to be brave. Just go.”
“Don’t be ridiculous-”
“I’m not being ridiculous,” he said, voice rising, “this isn’t one of your stories. This is war, and that baby in the other room, he’s got my blood. That makes him a target.”
Her throat closed.
He took another step. “I need to know you’re not going to be stubborn about this.”
“And I need to know you’re not going to throw yourself into danger without thinking, like you always do.”
“That’s my job!”
“And Sam needs his father more than the Iron Walkers need another body on the front lines!”
They stood, nearly toe to toe, both breathing hard.
Something flickered across Dane’s face. Pain. Frustration. Something more primal, darker, full of heat.
His gaze dropped to her lips.
And before Lola could think, before she could brace, he was kissing her.
It wasn’t gentle. Or tentative. It was messy and charged andreal.
His hands came up to her waist, fingers digging in like he didn’t know how to hold anything gently. Her own fingers fisted in his damp shirt, clutching at him like she needed an anchor.
There were no words.
Just heat and breath, and too much built-up feeling burning its way to the surface.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Staring. Stunned.
Lola licked her lips. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
For a moment, a brief, agonizing moment, she thought that he was going to pull away. A thousand emotions rolledacross his gaze, dark and stormy. And then he was kissing her again. And she was kissing him back.
Chapter 12 - Dane
She tasted like tea and autumn and strawberries, and from the first touch of their lips, Dane knew he was converted.
He had never known heaven like it.
All the tension in her body, that relentless, unending need of hers to remain rigid and composed, melted away under his touch. She arched up into him, her hands clinging to his shoulders, her chest crushed against his. He growled low at the neediness in her small whimper as he nipped at her bottom lip, demanding entry.
Without waiting for permission, he grasped that stupid cardigan she always wore, tearing it from her body with feral urgency. She gasped, but then her little fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt with clumsy, unpracticed motions. The innocence of it coiled low in Dane’s belly, and he knew that he needed her.
Needed her now.
He’d been denying it for too long. Pretending that his eyes didn’t track her every movement as she floated through his apartment with his son in her arms. Pretending that he wasn’t undone by every whiff of her expensive perfume. Pretending that he didn’t go half-mad with desire whenever she creased her adorable little brow at something stupid he’d said.
And he said a lot of stupid things.
