Brimstone Bride. Barbara J. Hancock
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“I should go back to the house,” she said. It was as much a confession as a request. She could see the war in him. The stiffness of his broad shoulders. His clenched fists. He held himself back even though he’d let the roll bar go.
Michael’s father had swept her defenses away. This was different. This was mutual. Her sensual power rose up to meet Turov’s. Their bodies were drawn to each other.
“You should. I should,” he agreed.
And still they paused under the glittering stars that winked to life in the blue-black Sonoma sky. Her affinity and his Brimstone blood were held at bay by sheer force of will. She was grateful for the shadows. Sunshine would have revealed how badly she wanted to succumb. She wanted to touch, taste and sing in his arms. To revel in the forbidden awakening she’d unexpectedly found on a mission that was cold as ice.
Would she see an answering hunger in his eyes? To forget his daemon deal in her arms? It was best if she didn’t know.
Finally, he broke the standoff. He chose the best course for sanity and retreated to the driver’s side of the ATV. While he slid in behind the wheel, Victoria tried to calm her breathing. She willed her heartbeat to slow. She needed to take advantage of this weakness she’d found in Adam Turov. He desired her. Of that she was certain. The connection between them didn’t lie. But how could she seduce him into revealing his secrets before she was seduced herself?
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