Page 69 of Knight’s Dominion

But one of the main reasons she needed to get out of there ASAP, was she wanted him again. Even with how sore her body was from her injuries, and after all the screwing they’d done, she wanted more. Her cheeks heated. God, she'd begged him to fuck her, repeatedly, and she knew he'd never let her forget it.

She wriggled, but the big bastard surrounded her, one massive arm slung around her waist, its dead weight pinning her to the bed in a way that, alarmingly, was not unpleasant. He smelled fantastic, too. Panic over her wayward thoughts, accompanied by an overwhelming urge to snuggle closer, almost had her lashing out and shoving him away. She did not freaking snuggle.

I need to get the hell out of here.

He made a grunting sound and rolled forward a little. All that smooth bare skin, pressing heavier against her back, radiating masses of bone-melting heat, the kind she wanted to rub up against.

Get out of the bed. Now.

Grace attempted to lift his arm, but he grunted again and dragged her closer. Wincing when her stitches pulled, she squirmed around onto her belly and, ass in the air, crawled backward, wriggling out from under his arm.

Free.

Finally.

Unfortunately, she made the mistake of looking back at him. He was sprawled on his stomach now, the sheet so low she couldn’t help but admire the top of his very fine, muscled ass. Disturbingly, it was taking way more effort than it should to resist crawling back into that bed, rolling that big, muscular body so he was on his back, and taking advantage of what she knew would be some seriously impressive morning wood.

Scowling, she turned away and went to his dresser. Since her clothes were destroyed, she riffled through his drawers. His T-shirts were all the same, black. Everything was perfectly folded and in its place. She got the feeling that was how he liked his life here at the compound, orderly, especially since all other aspects were so fucked up.

That was probably why he'd agreed to her sex-only condition before they sealed the deal. A mate would mess with his organized, regimented life, and we couldn't have that.

And that suited her just fine. She grabbed a shirt and found a pair of his workout shorts. Gray, instead of black. Amazing. More like the store had been out of black that day. The guy didn't have clothes, he had a uniform.

She quickly dressed. The shirt was a tent on her, and she had to bunched up the extra material of the shorts at her waist and tie it with her hair tie. She finished off her stunning ensemble with her combat boots. The only piece of clothing that had survived her visit from the doc were her panties, but right then she had no idea where they were, so she was going commando.

“Where’re you going?”

She straightened at the sound of Chaos’s sleep-roughened voice and turned to face him. “I need to leave.”

Chaos had rolled to his back, one arm bent behind his head, a hand on his abs, and was watching her. There was no missing the huge erection tenting the sheet.

He gave her a head-to-toe and smiled. “Nice outfit.”

That smile did things to her, things she didn't need to be feeling, not then, not ever. “Right, well, I have to take off."

“You're still recovering. Get back in bed."

He flicked the corner of the sheet back for her, like he expected her to follow his every command without question. Which was exactly why she wasn’t staying.

“I’ve been in bed long enough. I feel fine.” Plus, if she got back in there with him, she didn't think she'd have the strength to ever get out again.

“You haven't exactly been resting.” A sleepy, sexy grin tugged at his lips.

She made herself ignore it. “I’m rested."

"You're not. Get back in."

She ignored him, and put her necklace back on, grabbed her phone and wallet off the bedside table, and shoved them in one of the giant shorts pockets.

The bicep behind his head bunched, and he rubbed the other hand over his chest, lower, over the swirling scar on his ribs, his angels brand. “Stay.”

She watched, mouth dry, as he dragged his hand over his rigid abs, never taking his eyes off her, and slid it under the covers. She couldn't exactly see what he was doing, but it was pretty damn obvious that he'd wrapped that big mitt around his dick and was now stroking himself, slow and easy.

She took a step back.

"Grace."

Do not give in. If she did that now, it would be a slippery slope. He’d think he was the boss of her. That he only had to click his fingers and she’d obey. Or in this case, wave his gorgeous dick and she’d jump on it.