traveled up the length of his body, over the hardness of his thighs, the corrugated stretch of his abdomen, and he raised his arms, shoving his fingers back through the rumpled mass of his hair. She could do nothing but stare at the bulging power of his biceps with wide-eyed fascination. He was so perfectly sculpted, it was as if a master artisan had cut him from marble like David, and the gods had breathed life into him.
But he was no angel.
And yet...he wasn't a devil, either.
"I mean it, Ian. You're not evil, no matter how...physical your dreams might be."
"Yeah, and how can you be so sure? You don't know me. Don't know what I'm capable of.
Don't know what I dream about doing to the women in my bed." He stopped pacing, turning his head to look at her, eyes sharp and dark, so blue they looked black. "Or maybe you do."
She struggled to ignore the surge of lust that poured through her, thick and warm in her veins, but it wasn't easy. Not with him prowling around, wearing nothing more than those barely buttoned faded Levi's. She could see the dark silky trail of hair slipping down into the shadowed V of his open fly, and a wave of hunger rolled through her so sharp and sweet and strong that she went light-headed, forced to lean her upper body against the table for support.
The corner of his mouth twitched--such a slight fraction of movement, she knew she would have missed it if she hadn't been staring so intently.
Crap. He knew.
This was bad. She was already in over her head, and getting deeper with every moment she spent up on this damn mountain. But she owed it to Elaina. Dammit, she owed it to herself.
She wasn't going to screw up. Not this time around. She had a chance for redemption, to make a difference, and she was going to grab hold of it, even if it killed her.
Which seems a likely possibility, her conscience muttered.
He moved toward her, stalking closer until he stood in front of her knees, his feet braced outside of her own, staring down at her. Leaning forward, he braced his right hand on the table at her side, caging her in. "I can still taste your blood in my mouth," he rasped, his gaze flicking over her face, lingering on the swell of her lower lip. "This kind of shit isn't normal."
"Not for most people, no. But you're not like others, Ian. That's what I've been trying to tell you. It's why I used up my entire savings to buy a plane ticket and come here."
"I'm a contractor, for God's sake. Not a fucking vampire." Impatience cut itself into his features, the shadow of bristle on his cheeks accentuating the hollows of his expression.
She shook her head, craning her neck as she stared up at him. "I never said you were a vampire."
"Then why did I..." He jerked his chin toward her throat.
"I only know what I've been told. According to Elaina--"
"Christ," he grunted, lifting away from her. "I don't want to hear any more bullshit about what my dead mother has told you."
Breathlessly, she said, "I'm telling you the truth. I swear it."
"Yeah, then explain--"
"I don't--"
"--how I'm able to wake up in my bed with the taste of your goddamn blood in my mouth!"
he roared.
"But I--"
"And this time, don't lie about it! I want to know how it happened, Molly!"
She slammed her left hand down on the table, tired of him yelling at her...of not knowing how to make him listen. "I don't know how it happened! I swear. I've never dreamed about you before. I've never had anything like this happen to me before--sharing a dream with someone that is somehow, in some way, actually happening. All I know is what Elaina has told me, and I've been trying to tell you, but you won't listen! She led me to you, told me where to find you. Wanted me to warn you that you're in danger--that you're being hunted."
"It's the nightmares," he growled, his gorgeous, arrogant face set in a hard, obstinate expression that made her want to scream with frustration. "You've done something to me."
"No, that's not true. Think, Ian. You've
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