hands curled into fists and the muscles beneath his T-shirt rippled and bunched tensely.
She didn’t shake her head, she didn’t answer him. She stared at the phenomenon that she was certain no
one else had ever seen.
Dawg enraged. She had only rarely heard of him appearing truly angry, let alone enraged. Even drunk, he
had been playful, mocking, a little silly, but never angry.
“Answer me!” he shouted, causing her to jerk violently.
“Why should I answer you?” she snapped back. “It’s obvious you’ve remembered it. Why pursue a piece
of ass you’ve already had? And why the hell would you be stupid enough to blackmail me into giving you
more? You didn’t think much of it the first time, or you wouldn’t have wanted to give it away.”
She watched him cautiously, rather like watching a rabid bulldog straining at a chain.
Dawg saw the wariness in her dark eyes. He dreamed of those eyes. Dreamed of being mesmerized by the
chocolatey color, drowning in them, burning in them.
And her face, a flush of arousal burning across her cheekbones, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her
voice whispering across his mind. Begging for more.
It hadn’t been a dream. The words crashed in his skull. The dreams that tortured him for eight long years had been insidious memories that had managed to survive the drink-induced haze his mind had been in.
He had had her, and the memory of it, so dim and shadowed, had haunted him ever since.
29 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
FOUR
Dawg shut back the rage and the fear that he had somehow hurt her and she wasn’t admitting it. No doubt, this changed things. Son of a bitch, he couldn’t blame her for staying as far away from him as possible all these years. But that didn’t mean he was willing to let her go.
He would have been inclined to doubt that he could forget a night with her, but there were too many
dreams, too many indications that she was right.
He had taken her virginity. He had taken her without consideration of her innocence, her youth. He had
taken an eighteen-year-old virgin to his bed and done things that even mature women would blink at being asked to do.
He cleaned up the glass from the broken bottle carefully, aware of her watching him now with quiet
concern. Fuck that; he didn’t need her concern. He wanted her. He wanted her hot and wild, all that
hunger and passion he had glimpsed in her burning for him.
She would have loved him, he thought, to have followed him into his bed all those years ago. It made him cringe, wondering what he had done to her, how he must have hurt her to make her run before he even
awakened.
And he deserved it even less now than he had eight years ago.
“This deal. It involves us only,” he told her as he threw the glass in the garbage and kept his back to her.
“No one else.”
When she didn’t speak, he turned and stared back at her.
What the hell had been wrong with him the night he had taken her? He had known that Crista wasn’t the
sharing kind. She was a one-man woman, just like Kelly.
“Why can’t you just let me go? You owe me that, Dawg.”
Yeah, he owed her. If his dreams were anything close to what had actually happened, then he owed her a
hell of a lot more than he could ever repay.
“You owe me as well,” he told her coolly. “All I have are fragmented dreams that drive me fucking crazy.
Whatever we started eight years ago, we’ll finish this summer. One way or the other.”
Nothing on earth could convince him to let her out of his sight now. Possessiveness, desire, and emotions he hadn’t felt in so many years he barely remembered them rose to the surface of his consciousness.
Emotions he felt in those dreams. Something softer, more tender, and yet a thousand times hotter than lust alone. He wouldn’t call it love; he had assured himself years ago that love didn’t exist. Besides, this went deeper than
She didn’t shake her head, she didn’t answer him. She stared at the phenomenon that she was certain no
one else had ever seen.
Dawg enraged. She had only rarely heard of him appearing truly angry, let alone enraged. Even drunk, he
had been playful, mocking, a little silly, but never angry.
“Answer me!” he shouted, causing her to jerk violently.
“Why should I answer you?” she snapped back. “It’s obvious you’ve remembered it. Why pursue a piece
of ass you’ve already had? And why the hell would you be stupid enough to blackmail me into giving you
more? You didn’t think much of it the first time, or you wouldn’t have wanted to give it away.”
She watched him cautiously, rather like watching a rabid bulldog straining at a chain.
Dawg saw the wariness in her dark eyes. He dreamed of those eyes. Dreamed of being mesmerized by the
chocolatey color, drowning in them, burning in them.
And her face, a flush of arousal burning across her cheekbones, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her
voice whispering across his mind. Begging for more.
It hadn’t been a dream. The words crashed in his skull. The dreams that tortured him for eight long years had been insidious memories that had managed to survive the drink-induced haze his mind had been in.
He had had her, and the memory of it, so dim and shadowed, had haunted him ever since.
29 of 183
2/12/2007 8:45 PM
NautiNights
file:///C:/Users/Kathy/Shared/Lora%20Leigh%20Nauti%20Nights.html
FOUR
Dawg shut back the rage and the fear that he had somehow hurt her and she wasn’t admitting it. No doubt, this changed things. Son of a bitch, he couldn’t blame her for staying as far away from him as possible all these years. But that didn’t mean he was willing to let her go.
He would have been inclined to doubt that he could forget a night with her, but there were too many
dreams, too many indications that she was right.
He had taken her virginity. He had taken her without consideration of her innocence, her youth. He had
taken an eighteen-year-old virgin to his bed and done things that even mature women would blink at being asked to do.
He cleaned up the glass from the broken bottle carefully, aware of her watching him now with quiet
concern. Fuck that; he didn’t need her concern. He wanted her. He wanted her hot and wild, all that
hunger and passion he had glimpsed in her burning for him.
She would have loved him, he thought, to have followed him into his bed all those years ago. It made him cringe, wondering what he had done to her, how he must have hurt her to make her run before he even
awakened.
And he deserved it even less now than he had eight years ago.
“This deal. It involves us only,” he told her as he threw the glass in the garbage and kept his back to her.
“No one else.”
When she didn’t speak, he turned and stared back at her.
What the hell had been wrong with him the night he had taken her? He had known that Crista wasn’t the
sharing kind. She was a one-man woman, just like Kelly.
“Why can’t you just let me go? You owe me that, Dawg.”
Yeah, he owed her. If his dreams were anything close to what had actually happened, then he owed her a
hell of a lot more than he could ever repay.
“You owe me as well,” he told her coolly. “All I have are fragmented dreams that drive me fucking crazy.
Whatever we started eight years ago, we’ll finish this summer. One way or the other.”
Nothing on earth could convince him to let her out of his sight now. Possessiveness, desire, and emotions he hadn’t felt in so many years he barely remembered them rose to the surface of his consciousness.
Emotions he felt in those dreams. Something softer, more tender, and yet a thousand times hotter than lust alone. He wouldn’t call it love; he had assured himself years ago that love didn’t exist. Besides, this went deeper than
Similar Books
