I watch him, feeling his pain so acutely…and his isolation.
I can’t let him be alone. I head in after him. He’s not hard to find. There’s only one door closed.
I knock.
He’s grunting. Something rips. Buttons bounce along the floor.
“Let me in.”
“Leave.”
I grip the knob. “I’m coming in.” Still I hesitate. He’s in a dangerous mood. But fuck it, he needs me. I pull the door open.
He’s standing, in a state, giant hands tearing at the buttons. He pauses, gaze unreadable. I’m reminded of the way cats look sometimes, how you can never tell what’s in their minds, like it might be affection or maybe they’re thinking about killing you. He goes back to the buttons.
“Keep that stuff on.”
He eyes the sweats on the floor. Is he thinking about putting those back on? Yes. “The flannel and jeans are practical,” I say.
“I don’t need practical.”
“Do it for me.”
His expression is torn, chest heaving. He’s so goddamn beautiful, it breaks my mind. I’m hyperconscious of his warmth, his power.
“A few supplies and we’re out of here. Keep the new stuff on and let’s go.”
“I’m tired of shopping.”
“Just a little more.”
“You were so beautiful, standing there across the store,” he pants. “I loved looking at you. And then that male—talking to you like that. I wanted to rip his face off, and then fuck you in front of everyone. Hold you in place…fuck you and feel you and have you.” He balls his fists. “I could barely keep myself still.”
I’m unsure what to do with his strange mixture of possessiveness and vulnerability. “Well,” I try, voice wavering, “being that we’re trying not to attract attention, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t go with that plan.”
He just watches me with that amber gaze. “I can scent you, Ann. Your scent is beautiful to me.”
I swallow. Is he scenting arousal?
He closes his eyes. “It’s better than anything I know.”
I’ve never had a man so focused on me. I squeeze my legs together. “Let’s grab the camping stuff and go then, okay?” I go to him and redo a button. My fingers shake. I can barely do it. They have him wearing a black T-shirt under the quilted flannel shirt. “This will be warm and good. You’ll be glad.”
He grabs my hands, electricity in his eyes.
“What?”
His gaze drops to my crotch.
“What?”
“Your scent.”
I swallow. “Um…”
He turns his gaze back up to mine, and I get the feeling now that he can read my “um’s” as easily as I can read his grunts. He stands, crowding me in the small space.
Heat rolls through me.