Taming The Shifter. Lisa Childs
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and his topaz eyes dilated. “Kate...?”
“Don’t leave without telling me your name.”
His mouth, with those sexy sensual lips, curved into a slight grin. “Warrick.”
“Warrick?”
“Yes. Warrick James.”
“Warrick James,” she repeated, loving the sound of it—the feel of his name on her lips.
He leaned closer, as if she’d drawn him nearer. “Yes, Kate?”
“You’re under arrest for assault—”
He laughed at her now. “You never quit.” He moved to stand up.
But she clutched at him, holding him down on the bed. Holding him to her. “You’re not disappearing again.”
She needed to bring him in to the department, needed to prove her sanity to her coworkers. Especially the one who had been most vocal with his disdain for her story about what had happened that night.
“How are you going to stop me, Kate?” he asked. “You have no gun. You’re hurt. You’re weak.”
She winced—not in pain but in self-disgust. “I’m not weak.” She wasn’t that same scared woman she’d once been. She was older, wiser and stronger now than she had ever been. And to prove it, she launched herself at him, wrestling him down to the mattress.
He sprawled on his back without a fight, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. Her breasts nestled against his hard, scarred chest. “You’re not weak at all,” he assured her. “You’ve overpowered me.”
“Because you let me,” she suspected.
He nodded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You did.”
“Not anymore,” he said, lifting his head to close the distance between his mouth and hers. His lips skimmed across hers. “Now I just want you...”
And she wanted him, her skin heating and tingling everywhere they touched. The sheet had slipped down, so that her breasts were bare against his chest. His hair, which covered his impressive pecs, tickled and teased her nipples, bringing them to tight, sensitive points.
“And I want—” she struggled free of his loose grasp and grabbed up the sheet again, holding it between them like a shield “—to arrest you.”
“I’m not a monster, Kate.”
One of those dreamlike images rushed back to her mind—of a man that wasn’t a man. Of a man who was a monster—a mammoth, heavily muscled, hairy beast.
She didn’t believe him; she didn’t believe anything Warrick James said. She had been fooled once before and had believed a man to be a hero when he was really a monster.
So what could a monster be...but a monster?
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