A Mate's Denial: by P. Jameson Read Free Book Online

reverberated in her chest, causing her breast s to ting— “Kerrigan.”
    Her head snapped up, but this time she managed to hold onto her Kindle. That was definitely her name. Coming from his mouth. While he slept.
    Holy cow. Was he dreaming of her?
    Better question: was it a good dream? Or a nightmare? Like, maybe she was throwing herself at him and he was forced to fight her off. Hopefully it was more pleasant. Maybe something like what was in her book.
    Whoa.
    The idea made her feel like a melting ice cream cone. She pressed her lips together. Clearly, the loneliness was getting to her.
    Trager’s eyes flew open wide. There was the glassy look you’d expect from someone who’d been asleep for hours, but underneath it, there was an eerie awareness. Like he was seeing straight through her, and into her seductive thoughts.
    Slowly, he sat forward, the drowsiness, sloughing off.
    “Kerrigan.” His voice was low and deep, a rumble that reverberated in the space between her ribs. The sound made her want to purr. Trager breathed deep through his nose and his eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh, Kerrigan. I do like that very much.”
    “ Th-thanks. My mom chose it.”
    “Not your name. Though, I’ m partial to that too.”
    Okay. Before she could ask what it was he liked so much, he’d left the couch. Deliberately, he bent over her chair, his hands anchored on the arms, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned tracks down her body, starting at the top of her head and ending god-knows-where.
    Kerrigan gulped. He looked hungry. Starved. Like he wanted to completely ravish her. Lay waste to the land that was Kerrigan, and ruin her for any others before he rode off into the sunset on his bike. She’d read of men having this kind of reaction to a woman, but that was just fiction.
    Maybe he was sleep walking? Stuck in a dream still. But if so, it was a good one. A thrill ran along her spine.
    “ Trager?”
    “ Mmm hmm?”
    “A-are you awake?”
    “Wide. Completely awake.”
    Her heart raced as he bent even closer, making her skin feel flush. She thought, maybe, he was going to kiss her. Did she want that? They were barely more than strangers. But instinct told her a kiss from Trager would be unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
    Yeah. She wanted this.
    Except, he didn’t kiss her. What he did was a million times more intimate.
    His cheek barely brushed hers as his face came to the crook between her neck and shoulder. The stubble tickled but she was far from laughing, shivering instead a t his nearness, at his breath and how it danced along her skin. His nose grazed a path from her earlobe to the collar of her shirt, and back again, making her breath come faster and faster.
    Trager inhaled deeply, and took all her self-restraint with it. Her hand threaded into his hair. It was the softest sensation between her fingers.
    He growled—that was the only word for it—a low, rumbling sound from the back of his throat. “Too much.” It was barely more than a whisper. “Too fast.”
    Whatever he meant, it didn’t stop him from pressing his lips against the skin of her neck.
    Kerrigan tried hard to hold in her whimper. This was like nothing she’d ever felt before. Like he was… cherishing her. The thought made her eyes prick with tears, but they were forgotten in the next second, when Trager cradled her head, tilting it for better access to her neck.
    Unable to help it, she moaned. His fingers tightened in her hair in response. Then it was no longer the softness of his lips she felt, but the wet heat of his tongue. It set fire to her insides, melting her bones.
    He pulled back abruptly, as if catching himself, slapping his own hand for being in the cookie jar. He paced the small area in front of her coffee table, his hand rubbing his mouth, and making a faint shruff noise.
    Kerrigan tried to steady her sawing breath and resisted the urge to fan herself. When he didn’t stop the pacing and hair pulling, she stood,