Her mind scrambled for reasons; her body had none ready. Her thighs trembled. He dipped his head to take her lips in a kiss.
“Don’t…” she started, then swallowed. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Never,” he said, with a certainty that almost stole some of her fear, until he said, “I’ll wreck you and use you. I won’t hurt you, but you would hurt yourself by resisting my touch.”
He tipped her chin with two fingers and slammed his mouth to hers.
The kiss was nothing gentle. It was cruel, demanding and hot. It was a claim; heat and edge, a desperate press that made her gasp and open her mouth to him without meaning to. His tongue slid against hers and stole the breath she’d been using as defense. She tasted scotch and mint and something that belonged to him alone. Her hands found his fisted his shirt an
