Home > The Predator(57)

The Predator(57)
Author: RuNyx

He would stop a few steps away.

But he didn’t, just kept stalking, his body loose but controlled.

Morana pressed deeper into the counter.

He needed to stop.

He didn’t.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t voice the single word, not as his eyes bore into her, glimpsing at things she never even knew existed inside her.

He stepped right into her personal space, so close she had to tilt her head back to keep their eyes locked, so close that the tips of her breasts brushed against his hard torso as she inhaled, a current zapping through her core even as she leaned away, half bent over the counter.

His eyes glittered as the shadows danced over his face, making him look even more dangerous than he was, his magnificent blue eyes with their pupils blown wide, telling her he was not in control right now, not like he’d been the entire day that she’d tailed him.

God, she needed control. She needed to breathe.

Making herself focus on the dull throb in her arm, Morana broke their gaze, averting her eyes, and turning her face to the side.

Her face hadn’t even turned halfway when his hands shot out, planting themselves on either side of her on the counter, caging her in completely. His chest pressed into her breasts, not completely but enough to make the friction of their breathing drive her mad, the warm heat of his solid muscles a contrast to the cold granite at her back, his breaths brushing lightly over the top of her head.

Her heart thudded, pulse fluttering like a bird caged suddenly, her fingers curling into the counter beside her, gripping the cold slab, the urge to press her palm flat against the moving, hard chest acute. The desire to taste the tempting scent of that musk he always smelled like was on her tongue, even more profound.

What the hell was she even thinking of having those thoughts, especially after tonight?

Her jugular had been exposed to him for a long time, but more because of circumstances rather than choice. Not tonight.

Her heart rebelled.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her neck, the entire hand cupping her jaw from under as he turned her face towards his.

Inches.

Mere inches.

His breaths brushed over her face as her eyes latched on to his again by some inner compulsion she couldn’t understand, his eyes searching hers feverishly, blazing while his face remained hard and cold, the dichotomy in the man both annoying and fascinating her in equal measure.

Tilting her head back completely, he took the final step to close the distance between their bodies, his semi-hard erection nestling against her stomach as her breasts completely flattened against his torso. Her nipples pebbled in response, her spine curving over the counter. She kept her hands beside her, gripping that slab, keeping her lips shut with deliberate effort, determined not to break the silence between them, not to give in in at least one way.

But it wasn’t really a competition, because in the next breath, he spoke, his whiskeyed voice washing over her lips.

“I don’t know whether to snap your neck or fuck the life out of you,” that voice washed over her senses, so low it made her want to roll her eyes back into her head and wantonly lay back on the counter.

His words sank in.

Morana straightened her spine, the move bringing her face infinitely closer to his, their bodies pressed to close she could feel every indentation of every ab across her own body, feel the cut of muscles he was using to intimidate her.

Morana glared at him, her eyes narrowing, her blood heating from both anger and arousal.

“You want to touch me, Mr. Caine?” she spoke in an equally low voice. “You tell me the truth.”

His face shut down so fast Morana would have missed it in a blink. All the anger, all the everything that had been on his face? Gone. Just like that.

His eyes remained on hers, the blaze contained but not gone as his fingers tightened on her jaw, pulling her up until she had to stand on her toes to accommodate.

He leaned down, his lips almost in line with hers as his eyes pricked her like cold chips of ice, his jaw clenched so tight the scruff seemed even more pronounced.

“Don’t. Ever. Try. To. Fucking. Control. Me.”

Morana felt her body tremble at the fatality in his voice, the tone making it evident it had been the wrong thing to say. She had no leverage over him. Absolutely none. And to think that his lust would work as one had been a long shot anyway.

No one could hold anything over this man to make him do something he didn’t want to.

Had someone ever tried that, though? The way he’d reacted, with such icy vehemence, certainly implied that.

But playing with fire as she did on a regular basis these days, Morana smirked slightly, and deliberately ground her hips into his, rolling it in one smooth motion. She felt his respond automatically, thrusting into her stomach, hard, her core clenching in need as his breath ghosted over her mouth. Her lips tingled as wetness flooded between her legs, her nipples squashed against his rock hard and incredibly warm abs, her body alive, so fucking alive with sensations.

Trying to keep it cool, smiling intently, she brushed her nose over his, in a mockery of the intimate kiss, and spoke over his lips.

“Then I suggest you control yourself, sweetheart.”

The corner of his lip twitched ever so slightly, right above that delectable scar, his hips rocking into her one last time before suddenly, he was moving away. Already halfway across the room, his trousers tented evidently, his stance shameless as he scrutinized her.

Feeling like she’d just lost a game she’d had no idea they’d been playing, unable to understand what in him made her behave like this, like a wanton thrill-seeking animal. Morana swallowed and turned towards the guest room, walking away as quickly as she could without making it seem like she was running, which she totally was.

She felt his eyes on her retreating back all the way till the room and kept her head averted, shutting the door behind her, shutting his eyes out.

Taking her first deep breath in what seemed like minutes, Morana shook herself and walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind her even though it didn’t have a lock. He’d never entered this room before though, so she wasn’t really worried about him doing so. For all his high-handed ways, he seemed to have a thing for her privacy, something she couldn’t help but wholeheartedly approve of.

Stripping her bloodied dress off, Morana let it fall to the floor with a ‘plop’ and looked up at the mirror to check her arm.

The bleeding had stopped, as had the pain. It was just a gash that throbbed, nothing a few butterfly bandages and some sleep wouldn’t cure. Deciding to take a shower first and then go to the kitchen to wrap it up, Morana walked to the glass stall at the end of the cozy bathroom and turned the knob for warmth.

She stepped under the spray, letting the warm water slide over her, feeling the sweat and grime of the day go down the drain along with the exhaustion, careful to keep her wounded arm away from the spray. Eyes closed, head tipped back, she let the water wet her dark hair, caress her muscles as she let go of the breath she’d been holding the entire day. Her mind replayed what had happened outside, what she’d almost wanted to happen.

She’d seen him. Eyes ablaze, body trembling with that thin control, his aggression, his physicality, his focus – all on her. She’d seen him and like every other time, something in her had responded to that wild animal call. Only this time, it had been louder than ever before, more ardent.

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