Free Rhyannon Byrd - Primal Instinct 05 by Touch of Surrender Page A

eyes swimming with confusion.
    Kierland allowed his greedy gaze to drift lazily over
her front, sliding it down the smooth plane of her stomach, the gentle flare of
her hips, the feminine curve of her hip bones, and the hard-on that had started
the instant she’d stepped into his room thickened, straining against the fly of
his jeans. He flicked his gaze back up, snagging her drowsy, heavy-lidded
stare, and the corner of his mouth pulled into a tight, wry smile. “Still gonna
stand here and tell me we don’t have a problem?”
    “I…” She broke off, swallowing, her pupils so dilated
they eclipsed the gray, leaving her eyes dark with a hot, feral look of hunger.
She took a shivery breath and licked her lips. “I don’t know wh—”
    The sudden rapping of knuckles against his door cut
off her words, and they both flinched, taking hasty steps apart from one
another.
    “That’s gonna be room service,” he said, sounding like
he’d gargled with gravel. “I ordered us some dinner, thinking you might be
hungry.”
    She grabbed her shirt and turned away, quickly pulling
it back over her head. Kierland waited until she was dressed, made sure his
shirttails were covering his fly, then went and opened the door. The waiter
wheeled in the food cart, and Kierland handed him a tip before shutting the
door behind him.
    “What would you like to drink?” he asked, thinking
that Morgan had followed him into the room, but when he turned around, there
was no one there. He walked over to the bathroom, but it was empty, so he tried
the door that separated their rooms…and found that the handle wouldn’t budge.
    The woman had gone back to her own room.
    And she’d locked the bloody door behind her.
    “Shit,” he muttered, pushing his fingers through his
hair while he tried to make sense of the strange, almost edgy feeling in his
gut. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since earlier that
day, and he made his way over to the table, sitting down in one of the leather
chairs. As Kierland began to eat, he didn’t even taste the food, his gaze
sliding to that locked door, again and again, while a single thought kept
working its way through his mind.
    She could run, but she couldn’t hide.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Prague, Czech Republic
    Sunday morning
    NEARLY EVERY MAN IN THE ROOM turned his head and
watched as Morgan entered the hotel’s busy café. Kierland had sent her a text
asking her to meet him for breakfast, but now he regretted the public setting.
It made no sense, but his possessive instincts were kicking into overdrive. He
wanted to grab a damn bag and throw it over her head, then wrap a heavy blanket
around her sumptuous body, just to keep other men from noticing her.
    There was no justification for the Neanderthal urges.
They were stupid, ridiculous, destructive. But the jealousy seething inside him
was impossible to ignore, flavoring the thoughts in his head, as inexorable as
his need to breathe.
    And yet, if he were forced to be honest, Kierland knew
it wouldn’t be this way if the past had played out differently and he’d
followed his instincts, going after Morgan, instead of running to Nicole. The
simple fact of the matter was that if Morgan was his—her beautiful body marked
with his bite—he wouldn’t want to hide her away. Instead, he would have been
proud to show her off as his woman.
    It was the “not having her” that made him want to
shove his fist through a wall in a juvenile act of frustration. The fact that
he had no claim on her. No right to object if another man caught her eye and
approached her. Touched her. Seduced her into his bed.
    Not that Kierland wanted that right, damn it. Even if
he didn’t have his father’s blood flowing through his veins, he would never
bind himself to a woman whose affections could be bought and sold by the Consortium.
Or who could flirt with him so innocently one moment, then turn and slide into
bed with an arrogant son of a bitch like Granger in the