“As far as she knew, the magnificent creature hadn’t moved the whole time. Stark had rolled off her, but his arm was thrown over her breasts, and his leg lay over hers, continuing to hold her down. Every inch of his flesh was sweat-caked; his long hair clung to his forehead and cheeks. Although something that might be panic kept clawing at her senses, she refused to let it overwhelm her. He was watching her intently, undoubtedly recording her every move and expression. But what was he thinking? ...One spring morning, she’d happened upon a coyote as it silently circled a crippled rabbit. Instead of pouncing on the hapless creature and killing it, the coyote had studied its prey much as Stark was studying her. Man and predator had the same look in their eyes, a simple statement of power and strength. The coyote had wanted the rabbit to know its life would end when and how the coyote determined. Stark needed her to acknowledge that her future was under his control and command. “You aren’t going to let me go, are you?” She didn’t move.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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