Her palms started pushing against my chest and she tore her mouth away from my lips. “Stop it!” she gasped, then firmer, “Stop it!” She shoved me hard, and I yielded, taking a step back and dropping my hand from her pussy. Her eyes were dazed. She glanced at my cock straining against my pants, then at the neighboring houses, and flushed an even darker shade of red. She whirled around and stumbled into the house.

I let her, even though it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. I stared down at my bulge, then I lifted my finger to my mouth and licked her taste off. Fucking sweet and salty. Cara’s body responded; only her fucking mind was still messing things up. I knew now that she’d been wet for me, there was no way I would be able to keep my hands to myself. I wanted to taste her, wanted to make her body overrule her mind. I would give her a good lick, make her come hard, until she was soaking, and then I’d have her.

Cara

I didn’t stop running until I’d closed the door to my room behind me. What had I done? What had I let Growl do? God. My heart was pulsating wildly in my chest. I could feel the thud, thud even between my legs. I covered my eyes with my hand and took a deep, shuddering breath. I’d never felt this unhinged before. But being driven by instincts, my mind had been blissfully silent.

I’d wanted to feel his fingers so desperately, even through the fabric the touch had ignited me. Why did my body do that to me? I hated Growl and yet my body responded to him. He wasn’t poster boy pretty. He was edgy and dark and scarred.

And my body wanted him because of it.

I shuddered, dropped my hand and staggered to my bed, where I let myself fall. Being near Growl felt like falling, too.

Part of me wanted to return to the yard and let Growl finish what he’d started. I could regret my actions later, could perhaps even convince myself to blame Growl for everything. Maybe this was some kind of Stockholm syndrome?

Did that work for sexual attraction as well? I gasped out a laugh. I was losing my mind.

The throbbing between my legs still hadn’t stopped. If possible, it had gotten even worse. I put my hand on my lower belly, then stopped. This wasn’t right. Even just fantasizing about someone like Growl was wrong, and touching myself while doing it? Surely that was a sin.

My mother would never forgive me.

I curled my hand into a fist on my stomach. I’d be strong. I wouldn’t let my body dictate my actions. I was better than that.

***

The next two mornings I didn’t want to face Growl and waited until I heard him leave the house before I walked out of my room. I couldn’t hide forever, but my embarrassment was still too fresh. At least he didn’t seek out my company.

As usual, I first checked the front door and windows to find them locked. The dogs lay in their beds, wagging their tails half-heartedly as I passed them. I considered patting them, but I didn’t dare without Growl close by. Which was kind of amusing, considering that not too long ago I’d considered him the most dangerous thing in my life. And he probably still was. I headed to my usual spot on the sofa and startled at the sight of six books neatly stacked on top of the living-room table. I didn’t know any of the authors, but it was a mix of romances and thrillers. I lowered myself to the sofa, stunned by Growl’s consideration. I was more confused than ever. Why was he treating me with respect? I picked up the book at the top and began reading, trying to immerse myself in another world and silence my thoughts.

***

When he returned in the evening, he brought pizza again and put it down on the living-room table next to my new books. My face burnt with shame when his gaze finally settled on me. He looked completely unaffected by my obvious embarrassment over our last encounter. “Thanks for the books,” I said.

He nodded and settled on the sofa before he opened the pizza carton and grabbed a piece. The spicy scent wafted over to me and reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since the morning. Growl had stocked the kitchen with a few more essentials since I’d moved in.

“Have you found out more about my sister?” I asked.

A few times as we ate I caught myself staring at his long fingers, remembering how it had felt to have them on my body.

I needed to stop this madness. Focus on something else, I told myself, and finally I settled for his scar. My eyes traced the angry red line around his throat. It was jagged, as if they had used a saw-toothed knife. How could someone survive something like that? It seemed impossible. I couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have the blood drain out of you. I shivered. There were so many rumors about how it had happened, and even more about how he’d survived.

I suspected that many of them were the foundation for Growl’s notorious reputation. Why was he alive? A wound like that, a cut throat, always meant death. Why had someone like him, someone who didn’t deserve to live, survived, while others died from less? It seemed unfair and cruel. Maybe it was stupid of me to expect life to be fair, to give everyone what they deserved.

I tore my gaze away, afraid he’d notice it and get angry. But he was probably used to the staring by now. Wherever he went people watched in awe and fear. I doubted he enjoyed the attention—so different from his boss. I’d seen the pride and delight on Falcone’s face whenever people shied away from his most feared assassin.

“Eat,” Growl rasped.

I jumped and again my eyes found his throat. This was my chance to get answers, to find out if there was a sliver of truth to the rumors my friends and I had whispered to each other in hushed voices. My chance to figure out the man in front of me, and how to influence him. Yet I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out more about him. People fear what they don’t know—that was a quote I knew to be true, but I had a feeling that not knowing was a blessing when it came to the man in front of me. With every layer that I peeled off, more horrors would be exposed.

“Ask or stop looking,” he said. He didn’t sound angry.

I glared. I wanted to ask and at the same time didn’t. Not when he had almost ordered me to, but then my curiosity won. “What happened to you?”

Growl pushed another piece of pizza into his mouth and chewed slowly. He swallowed then looked at me. His amber eyes held no emotions, but his strong jaw was set tight. “Someone wanted me dead, cut my throat,” he replied in a monotone rasp. “But I survived.”

I stared. That wasn’t an answer, at least not one that allowed me to find out more about Growl. It was generic and emotionless, but it showed me something. That I’d found a topic Growl was uncomfortable with.

He nodded toward my untouched pizza. “Either you eat or I’ll feed it to the dogs.”

I was too hungry to give the pizza to the dogs out of spite, and so I started eating.

Afterward, Growl went outside again to work out, and I decided to hide in my room. I didn’t want to risk something like last time, but I couldn’t restrain myself very long and peeked out of the window into the yard. Growl was covered in sweat as he pushed two massive dumbbells over his head, face scrunched up with strain. His upper arms bulged, his chest tensed.

I let out a breath and quickly slipped into bed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Growl

I knew she’d been watching me from her room. I’d seen her at the window. This was eating away at my control. I couldn’t think about anything but her body anymore, about her taste—mouth and pussy.