Free Rogue's Passion by Laurie London Page A

didn’t want to force it on him without his permission.  
    “Holy Fates,” he grumbled. “Is every muscle tied to my ribs?”
    “Not every muscle.” The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how suggestive that sounded, and her cheeks heated. She tried her best to cover up the gaffe. “Remember that old song?” She hummed a few bars, then glanced up to get his reaction. He had a strange, almost confused expression. “What? I take it you’ve never heard it before.”
    “Can’t say that I have.” He shut the car door behind him.
    “The point is that everything in our bodies is connected. Broken ribs are really painful, but if you’d let me heal you further—”
    “No,” he growled.  
    “Why not? Back in the city you were going to force me to heal you. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?”  
    With his good hand, he reached out and lifted her chin, and whatever she was going to say slipped from her mind.  
    Her heart raced, her breath caught in her throat, and her vision narrowed until it was only the two of them in the entire world. She was ready to throw out her self-imposed moratorium on bad boys and let him kiss the hell out of her.  
    But instead of a smoldering expression, heavy with promise, Asher just looked pissed. Almost dangerous. Eyes blazing with anger, nostrils slightly flared, he glared at her. “I don’t want this, Olivia.”  
    What was he talking about? Her healing him? She wouldn’t bring it up again, if it bothered him so much. “Want what?” she asked, just to make sure that was what he meant.
    “You.” His hard gaze darted to her mouth.  
    “Me?” That little thrill shot through her again, and this time it was accompanied by a warm, tingling sensation between her legs.  
      Then his fingers were in her hair, pulling her head back. A tiny sound escaped her throat as his mouth came down over hers.  
    Asher overpowered all her senses. Every single one. All she could breathe and taste and feel was him. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips and her mouth parted. As he plunged inside, his good hand slipped down to the small of her back, then lower still to cup her ass. She responded by arching her hips closer and wrapping her arms around his neck, careful of his injuries. He groaned in response—or it could’ve been the pain—and kissed her harder.  
    With her defenses lowered, her healing energy trickled into him. She attempted to put up her mental barriers again, but with this close, intimate contact, it was hard to stem the flow completely. She could sense that his cracked ribs were knitting back together. “Asher, I—”
    “I can’t want you,” he said, interrupting her, his lips skimming the sensitive skin along her jaw. Goosebumps sprang up all over her arms and legs in response and she forgot that she was healing him. “You’re not my type. Not even close.”  
    He’d already told her he’d been at the club with a few women, including Monique, so she knew his type. Tall, voluptuous, flashy, and very beautiful. And he was right. She was none of those things.
    “And you’re not mine, either.”  
    At least the type she needed: a calm, stable man with an even temper and a predictable future. Being from the other side of an Iron Portal, Asher was about as far from that description as any man could be. But did that matter right now?  
    Hardly.
    Her fingers threaded into his hair as her mouth found his again. She pushed her tongue past his lips, her turn to explore him. That caused a rumble to vibrate in his chest. He tasted like vanilla and mint and he smelled like soot and ash. One hundred and ten percent male.
    “That’s good,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts, his voice as rough as the gravel beneath their feet. “But I want you to stay with me. Just for tonight.”
    Her heart pounded. “Stay with you? Here?”  
    He trailed a string of kisses along her breastbone, just above the neckline of her dress, and his hair