Free Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) by Mia Gabriel Page A

with his I couldn’t begin to read his mood.
    He was grasping my arm hard, almost to the point of pain, but not quite. I didn’t protest; this was what I’d wanted, to be with him.
    He led me into the stable and down the long row of stalls. Some held horses, snuffling and whinnying behind the gates as we passed, their scent mingling with the smell of hay and polished leather. I blinked, trying to accustom my eyes to the shadows. The lanterns had not been lit yet, and the sun of the fading day slanted through the windows and the door.
    I tripped on the brick floor, but he held me up, still pulling me forward with him. The last stall was empty, and he drew me inside with him. He released my arm, shoved the gate shut, and shot the bolt to the latch. The gate would offer no degree of real privacy—most men of any height would be able to see over it—but I sensed that was not the true reason that Savage had latched the gate. He didn’t wish to keep the stable workers out so much as he wanted to keep me locked in.
    Locked in with him .
    I took a single step towards him to prove I wasn’t frightened. I wasn’t. I was insanely aroused, my blood racing through my body with desire. Slowly I lifted the veil back from my face so he could see the longing that I was sure must be there. My eyes were heavy with it, my lips aching for his.
    He took off his hat and threw it aside, then crossed the short distance between us. I’d never seen him quite like this, his face furious with unabashed lust. When he’d been face-to-face with Blackledge his pale eyes had been as cold as winter. Now, when he met my gaze, those same eyes seemed to burn with desire, the same wild desire that was now licking through my body.
    He seized me by the waist to pull me close, but I’d already reached for his shoulders—ah, those shoulders!—and was digging my fingers deep into the superfine woolen-covered muscles. He caught me off-balance and then pushed me back against the rough wood of the stall. The wall shoved my hat forward, and impatiently he tore it from my hair, scattering the pins that Hamlin had so carefully used to secure it.
    The hat didn’t matter now. Nothing else did, except his mouth devouring me, claiming me, marking me. I could taste the possession of this kiss, the savageness that was a part of his name. I felt scorched, branded by it, and yet the more he pressed his body against mine, against the rough boards behind me, the more I wanted.
    He held my jaw steady in his hand to make sure I wouldn’t escape. His thumb pressed into my cheek, and the animal scent of his leather gloves somehow made his kiss more primal and demanding.
    When he broke away I gasped, as if the very source of my life had been stolen away from me.
    “You’re mine, Eve,” he said, his voice as rough and demanding as his kiss. “You don’t belong to any other man but me. You are mine .”
    “I am, Master,” I breathed. “Yours.”
    What other answer could there be?

 
    5.
    “Mine,” Savage repeated, his breath warm on the skin beneath my ear. “Never forget it, either.”
    I closed my eyes, relishing the pressure of his body against mine.
    “Let me prove it to you, Master,” I whispered. I slipped one hand between us to find his cock. He was enormous in his trousers, straining against the confining fabric, and there was no mistaking the heat and power of his erection beneath my hand. Daring, I blindly found the first button on his fly and unfastened it.
    “As soon as we reach your house, Master, I’ll—”
    “No.” At once he seized my wrist, his grasp like a vise. He drew back just far enough to see my face, and for me to see his. The slightest of smiles played on his sensually full lips. His silvery-gray eyes were half-closed and unfathomable, and yet I could have gazed into them forever.
    “You will prove it, Eve,” he said. “But not later. Now.”
    “Now?” I repeated, breathless with both surprise and excitement. Each time one of the