Free Megan's Mark by Lora Leigh

dissolving in his arms the way she wanted to. She would be damned if she would. Just what the hell she needed—the hots for a Breed, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. Could life get more complicated, please?
    “Megan, the snide Breed remarks don’t become you,” he finally chastised her as she moved to place more distance between them. He only followed her. Stalking her. “If you want to insult me baby, then keep it personal.”
    He was right, her insults weren’t fair. Megan turned her back on him, forcing herself to breathe, to find just a moment of stability amid the conflicting needs surging through her. She wanted him so badly the ache was a pit of fiery longing in her womb. She had forced herself to keep distance between her emotions and the men that existed in the periphery of her life. But she wasn’t maintaining distance with Braden. The irresistible draw he was becoming made her angrier at herself than at him.
    She turned to face him again, her eyes widening as he came flush with her body, trapping her against the counter, his thighs pressing against hers, his erection cushioning itself in the soft warmth of her abdomen. Her womb clenched, spasming with a sexual hunger that nearly took her breath.
    “Don’t.” She pressed her hands against his chest, shaking her head, certain that if he touched her she wouldn’t be able to fight.
    “Sweet.” He inhaled deeply, bracing his hands on the counter, his arms holding her in place as her hands flattened against his chest. “You’re hot and wild, Megan. I could make you hotter. Wanna try me?”
    She shuddered as his head lowered, his lips catching the sensitive lobe of her ear, licking it with a slow, seductive move of his tongue. A hard shudder raced up her spine as heat began to envelop her.
    Her clit swelled in a resounding yes to his question; her breasts grew heavier, her nipples harder.
    A shiver streaked up her spine, then back down again before a tremor of need sliced through her sex. She knew she couldn’t hide it. As his head raised, his gaze meeting hers, she knew the hunger filling her was reflected in her eyes. It wasn’t just a need for sex. It was a need for everything. To curl in his arms, to rub against him, to find a place to rest. And she knew the illusion that she could do just that couldn’t be real.
    He inhaled deep, his eyes darkening as sensuality suddenly darkened his expression. “Get ready to ride,” he growled rather than touching her further as she expected. “We either get this show on the road or we head to the bedroom. Your choice. Otherwise, you’re going to find out exactly how a Breed fucks the fight out of tempting little wildcats like yourself. Now get moving. One way or the other.”
    He kept trying to remind himself that he wasn’t like her. Not really human. Not the right man to start an affair with a woman who had no idea what she was getting into with him, sexually speaking.
    His lips quirked at the thought. Her snappish little comments against his Breed birth hadn’t bothered him. He saw more than he was certain she wanted him to. The clash of emotions inside her was clearly felt, as was the arousal, hot enough, deep enough to burn a man to his soul. And it frightened her.
    He drove across the desert, the gentle rocking motion of the Raider making the silence inside the vehicle seem all that much deeper. It was hard to forget what he was, who he was, when the heat of her arousal scented the cool interior of the closed vehicle.
    He was a Breed. The bastard of the human and animal species. His genetics were a mismatched collage of human and lion DNA that made him stronger, faster, more predatory, more vicious than any human should be. He was identified by the genetic marker of a lion’s paw on the inside of his left thigh, and by the longer, sharper canines at the sides of his mouth. Not that those were the only anomalies, but they were the most apparent.
    His sexuality was hard, driven. If there was