Page 61 of Claimed By the Guardian

“Yes.”

She frowned at him. Was that a Yes, I want to get our freak on? Or a Yes, what are you asking me? She opened her mouth to ask him to clarify because honestly—brain tumor here—she needed things very clear. But her words were stopped when his hand touched her face. He was a large man and his hand was no different but she hadn’t realized just how gently he could touch her.

His fingertips barely skimmed her skin and left a tingling wake as he skated along her jaw. Then his thumb stroked across her cheeks to her mouth. She didn’t even think he touched her lips, but they plumped and tingled just from the thought. And from the dark intensity in his eyes as he watched her.

Her fears shorted out. Brain tumor? Psychotic break? Magic was real? All those confusing thoughts kept screaming, but she couldn’t hear them when he looked at her like that. When he leaned down as she stretched up to him.

Their breath mingled, but again, he didn’t touch her. He just breathed her in as she ached for him.

“Please,” she whispered.

He closed the distance between them, but he didn’t press deep. Lip to lip now, he brushed back and forth as her breath caught and her head dropped back. His other hand caught her, supporting her head as he pressed deeper, harder against her mouth. In that moment, she opened all of herself to him. Her heart, her head, and her body, and he thrust inside with a hunger that matched her own.

He plundered her mouth and she dueled with him without restraint. Animal hunger. Desperate passion. She had no words for this, no other experience that matched the need that pounded through her blood. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him closer as she stretched higher.

His tongue became wilder then. The thrust and parry seemed harder now, more powerful as he owned her mouth, but she didn’t give way. As he started to take from her, her passion roared through and suddenly she was dueling with him as if her life depended on it. Her life felt poised in the balance as she thrust and took from his tongue, his mouth, his hunger.

She clutched his shoulders harder. She used him to pull herself up along his torso. She even curled a leg around his as she tried to climb up for a better angle. His right hand left her face, dropping down to her thigh as she wrapped herself around him.

Need clawed at her, irrational and overpowering. She dove into it, throwing away her rationality as if it meant nothing. All she needed was him. Right now. Right here.

She would have done it, too. She would have ripped off her clothes right here while Dennis pretended to sleep six feet away. She would have, but Hank kept control. Where before he was holding her against him, pressing the bulge of his hot penis against her groin, now he gripped her hard and pushed her back.

She didn’t want to go. She fought him, straining to keep them connected, but he was stronger and relentless. He held her back while she whimpered in distress.

“Not here,” he said.

“On-call room?” she asked.

“No.” He swallowed and took an unsteady step backward. Again, she tried to keep him close, but he refused though his gaze seemed to burn. “I’ll drive. Your hotel?”

She nodded and headed for the door on shaky legs. He remembered her tote bag, which held purse and tablet. And while Dennis muttered an amused, “Yabba dabba do!” she flipped the lights off.

“Still The Flintstones,” she returned as she shut the door. Then linking her fingers with Hank, they headed to his car.

Neither spoke much on the drive, though he attempted conversation twice. The first time, he said, “Do you want to talk about this?”

“No.”

Then five minutes later, he tried again. “We don’t have to?—”

“Yes, we do. It’s the magic, right?” Or the brain tumor.

He looked at her, his gaze serious. “On my side, yes. You’re still free. You can still say no.”

Could she? She didn’t think so. Not with this need clawing inside her. Her face must have said as much because he shook his head.

“You aren’t magical,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to feel this way.”

“But I do feel like this.”

His expression tightened. For a moment she thought she saw joy, fierce and powerful. But a second later it was locked down and hidden away. A statue of Buddha had more expression than he did. And then he asked one last question.

“What if…” He halted as he turned a corner. “What about the baby?”

Not a baby. He’d said the baby as if a child was a foregone conclusion if they did this.

She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the seat. The idea of carrying his child thrilled her. And that confused her. In her mind’s eye, she was looking at a serious little boy or a giggling little girl. One would play with a chemistry set, another would tear after a soccer ball. And she had no idea which child would do what. She thought of holidays and birthday parties. Of baby snuggles and that moment when Hank brought home a puppy. All those scenes flashed through her head and she wanted it. Oh God, how she wanted it.