Page 87 of Bad Girl
She didn’t move, but her jaw went slack when she inhaled. Her reaction to our scent was the most beautiful moment of connection — deep-rooted instinct, raw and undeniable.
I strode across the office and slipped my arm around her waist. She leaned into me with a distressed moan. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her hand clung to my shirt and my eyes closed as she buried her face in my chest and breathed me in.
“Your place,” I declared, leading her past Nora’s desk.
Everything was in the boot of my car. All of my preparation was about to pay off—down to Killian and Dubhán standing ready to deliver supplies throughout her heat.
I hit the button for the basement. It would get her out safely and put us closer to the car.
She gripped my shirt with both hands and pressed herself against me. I eased my knee between her legs, sliding the soft black fabric of her skirt up her thighs. A rumble of approval vibrated from her as she rocked against me.
The scent hit instantly.
Deep.
Lush.
Dripping.
Even through the layers of fabric I could feel it.
The lift stopped.
Not our floor.
The man stared.
“Take the next one,” I snarled, pulling her into me—one arm around her head, the other around her waist.
He nodded and backed away.
She was our mate and in a vulnerable state.
No one would come near her.
Not now. Not ever.
Kael’s growl rumbled between us.
I felt her shudder and her heat seeped through my trousers.
I stabbed at the button like a maniac.
Chapter 42
Nika
It was like a headache that had moved into my bones. Every ache and throb had its own address, its own specific complaint. The cramp had grown stronger but there was brief relief when it ebbed—those small windows of almost-normal that only made the return worse.
I glared at him as he brought more bags into my bedroom.
Why wasn’t he suffering? He should be suffering. He was the cause of all of this. Standing there looking completely composed, carrying things in from the corridor like this was a perfectly ordinary Tuesday, like I wasn’t lying here wanting to peel my own skin off.
I turned away and buried my face into my pillow.
Wrong. All wrong. The fabric conditioner I’d used for two years, the scent I’d always found comforting—it grated now. Synthetic. Thin. Nothing like—
I picked it up and threw it at his head.
