She struggled into the hallway and banged on his door; the
sound hurt her sensitive ears.
Three knocks and the door opened.
Owen stood in the doorway, his large, muscular body bare
save for a pair of boxer briefs. He pulled her inside, a motion
so quick she barely felt his hands grip her arms before he
released her on the other side of the door frame. Then he
wasn’t touching her. Instead, he peered out into the hallway,
as if he thought she might not be alone.
“Are you all right? Did someone—”
“What the hell is wrong with me?” That wasn’t what she’d
meant to ask, dammit. There was no real reason to believe
Owen would have any idea what ailed her, but her instincts
screamed he knew the answer.
Or maybe she was just confused. She couldn’t even manage
a rational conversation at the moment. She clenched her
hands into fists to keep herself from reaching out and
touching him. And oh, how she wanted to touch the man who
even now made her angry. Feel the muscles barely
contained by his skin. Take in his scent, which teased the
edge of her senses.
He stared at her, then took a long breath. His eyes widened.
“Ah, hell, Daniella.”
The simple act of him saying her name pushed her blood
pressure up a notch. She licked her lips and took an
involuntary step toward him before stopping herself in her tracks.
“What is wrong with me?” She ground out every word.
“It’s not my place to say.” He shut the door behind him, turning his back to her.
She laughed, but the sound held no amusement. She was
about ready to either jump out of her skin, or shove this man
who she didn’t even care for to the ground so she could
screw him seven ways from Sunday, and he was keeping
secrets?
“Tell me!”
“It’s—you’re special. There’s something that your adoptive
parents never prepared you for, didn’t know to prepare you
for. But I’m only here to keep you safe. I can’t go into any
more detail.” His eyes met hers, more amber than brown,
and just his gaze sent a jolt of lust through her body.
“Fuck your secrets.” Her sex ached so badly that it hurt. And
he smelled good, so damn good. Like a twisted mix of man
and cinnamon. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to sleep with
him or eat him. She pressed her thighs together, but the
pressure only served to make her sensitive skin more inflamed.
His eyes narrowed in understanding.
“Dammit. You’re in full heat. Come with me.”
He led her to a couch and had her sit. But she couldn’t
sit—pressure seemed to only make it worse. So she lay
down instead. The world was surreal, and Owen’s scent
seemed to inundate the couch—a deep, masculine scent that
teased her desire. A murmured voice caressed her ears and
she realized he was on the phone.
What had he said—full heat? She had no clue what that
could be. Was he calling an ambulance? She might be ill.
She certainly didn’t feel right, although she didn’t feel sick,
either. Could she have been poisoned? The pipes in the
apartment building had to be old as dirt, probably filled with
lead. Maybe she’d been drugged. But she hadn’t left her
apartment all day, so how was that possible? Time-released
Ecstasy wasn’t a thing, as far as she knew. It felt as though
something—something outside of herself, outside of her
control—was assaulting her.
“I’m going to try to help you,” Owen said, his voice strained.
Daniella opened her eyes and blinked against the brightness. She hadn’t noticed him approaching.
“Need you,” she managed.
“I know, kitten. I can’t give you that. But I can help you.
Maybe make it not hurt so much. But to do that I have to
touch you.” His voice deepened and her sex throbbed in
response. “Do you want me to help you?”
Tiffany Allee (aka Andie Devaux) writes sensual romance
stories. When she’s not writing (or reading!), she can usually
be found daydreaming, hiking, or attempting a new recipe.
She thinks that life should require happily ever afters. And
since she doesn’t make the rules of life, she instead applies
this philosophy to the worlds she can control – the ones in
her books.
stories. When she’s not writing (or reading!), she can usually
be found daydreaming, hiking, or attempting a new recipe.
She thinks that life should require happily ever afters. And
since she doesn’t make the rules of life, she instead applies
this philosophy to the worlds she can control – the ones in
her books.
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