Shiloh Walker: Excerpt time

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“If you’re so sure I won’t hurt you, then why are you afraid of me?” He curved his hand around her neck, resting his thumb in the hollow at the base of her throat.

Was she afraid of him? Maybe a little. Disturbed by his seriously weird attitude, but she wasn’t afraid because she thought he might hurt her. She knew better.

“If you’re so certain I should be afraid of you, then why don’t you give me a reason to be?” she challenged.

His eyes narrowed. The fingers on her neck tensed. He stroked his thumb over the fragile skin of her neck, up and down . . . up and down. Her pulse leaped under his touch and her breath was lodged somewhere in her chest. Holding her gaze, he pushed off the wall and then hooked his hands in the neckline of her shirt.

He jerked and buttons went flying. He crowded her against the wall, using his body and arms to trap her in place. Her mouth was dry. Her heart was racing.

“Is that supposed to do it?” she asked, reaching for a bored tone and failing. Her voice came out soft and breathy, like some sex-starved little nympho who’d gone too long without a climax. She might not be too far off target.

But at least she didn’t sound afraid.

Staring into his eyes, she smirked at him and waited.

His mouth came down on hers, rough, brutal. Sara reached for him. As he kissed a line from her mouth to her ear, she gasped for breath, tried to clear her head. His hands were on her, streaking under her clothes, rubbing against her covered sex. He popped the button of her jeans and dragged the zipper low.

“Tell me to stop, damn it,” he growled.

Sara slammed her head back against the door, fought to breathe. Fought to think. Fought to force the words from her throat. “I don’t want you to stop.”

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