Free Prisoner Mine by Megan Mitcham

profile. “It’s just a body, Greer. I didn’t get naked to put the moves on you. I can’t sleep in clothes.” He shuffled to the dining table and grabbed his jeans off the back of the chair.
    Greer sat, tossed the covers off her legs, and shifted onto her heels.
    “I don’t care about that. It’s your…bruises. Your scars.”
    “You don’t?” Calling her bluff, Zach gripped the pants in his fist and turned.
    Greer double-fisted the reins on the naive part of herself that smacked a hand to her forehead and fainted, as well as the hormonal one that fell to her knees in writhing moans of worship. She kept her gaze trained on Zach’s challenging gray eyes and off his fully erect manhood.
    “I don’t.”
    She should care that a man had slipped naked into bed with her. Though, it was his bed. It should teach her to get into a man’s bed at all. Not that he’d done anything presumptuous.
    Her chest expanded on a fortifying breath. Meaningfully, inch by inch, Greer lowered her gaze first to the scar on his chest, and then to another on his abdomen. His thickly-veined cock twitched. Her lungs screamed for release. Her lady bits tingled in response, but she refused to swallow the saliva pooling in her mouth.
    She continued down his body to the cuts and bruises on his legs. If only she’d had the wherewithal to journey back up his hulking warrior body without blushing. Instead, she shifted her gaze to his. Too late she realized his gaze was locked on the front of her shirt. More accurately, the points of her nipples that tented the fabric.
    “You don’t?” One of his brows cocked lazily.
    “I want to know how long they had you and why. I want to know what they did to you, how you managed to suffer through it, and how you escaped. I don’t expect you to tell me all of it. But at least the basics.”
    He chuckled, causing the etched lines of his abs to contract. The hollow sound echoed through her, nearly knocking her on her ass.
    “Get dressed, Greer.”
    “You first,” she shot back.
    “It bothers you.” He grinned, a trite showing of teeth. “At least I know there’s blood in your veins and not ice.”
    Anger thrashed about inside Greer’s chest.
    “Me? Oh, you’re one to talk about ice in the veins.” Her hands flexed, keeping pace with her rage. “You’ve never smiled or yelled or cried. Not once in seven months have you shown a true emotion. It’s all for show. Even when you get mad. It’s fake. You’re fake.”
    Ooh. She hit a nerve with that one. His eyes came to life, sparking as they had the day before. Red colored his cheeks. Striations shown on the tops of his shoulders and in his arms from the strangle hold he kept on the jeans.
    “ I’m fake? You’ve watched me like a bloody leopard ready to pounce on my cock at the first chance, and then I find out you’re a virgin.”
    “Well, I already knew you were an asshole. Not hard to figure out. And I didn’t watch you for that.” She jabbed a finger at his junk.
    “You can’t even say it,” he laughed.
    “Oh, for the love…” Greer tossed her hands into the air.
    “Why’d you watch me then? I mean, if you can’t even say penis, you surely wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
    “Fuck you and your big dick.” Her voice rose an octave with each word.
    That hiked both his brows. “So, now you’re interested?”
    “I watched you because I wanted to see something real from you, something honest.”
    They stood there for a full minute, descending from the height of frenzy.
    “Well,” he sneered, “sorry to disappoint you.”
    “You didn’t.”
    Zach stilled with his thumbs hooked in either side of his pants, ready to step into them.
    “I saw it yesterday when I accused you of buying me for your own pleasure. You were angry…and disappointed that I’d even think you capable of it.”
    His jaw firmed and something passed through his undecipherable gaze. It vanished before she could get a read on it. He shoved his legs