Folks in town call him a monster—say he’s dangerous. But I know him simply as Elijah Hays, the quiet, gentle giant who works with the horses on my ranch. I can feel him watching me, that steady intense gaze making me crave things I don’t quite understand, burn in a way that frightens me. He’s always kept his distance…until that night.I remember him coming to my rescue, me following him into the barn, giving him his first taste of a woman, and his inexperienced yet barely reined touch turning me to ash.
Now all I can think about is exposing the dark desire I see deep inside him—having him turn those dark desires on me. That low, gritty voice rasping orders in my ear. Those huge, rough hands holding me down when a storm blows in.
I want his surrender. His control. I want to break him…and have him break me…
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Sherilee Gray writes sexy, edgy contemporary and paranormal romance. Stories full of heat and high emotion, following stubborn characters as they fight against the odds… and their happily ever after. She’s a kiwi girl and lives in beautiful NZ with her husband and their two children. When not writing or fueling her voracious book addiction, she can be found dreaming of far off places with a mug of tea in one hand and a bar of Cadburys Rocky Road chocolate in the other.
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“Miss Abigail?” he said through panted breaths. Despite that wild stare and the way his body throbbed with aggression, when he spoke, none of it came through. His cheeks were dark from exertion, mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumped from his lungs, struggling to maintain control, but still he hadn’t directed any of that anger at me.
I managed to unglue my feet and started toward him. He seemed to brace himself as I moved closer, hands on hips, back and shoulders stiff. When I stopped in front of him, instead of his direct stare, he aimed his eyes at the ground. “Eli?”
He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Reaching out, I touched his arm. “Elijah?”
He jolted, muscles tightening under my fingers. God, I felt tiny standing this close to him.
He finally answered, voice low, “Ma’am.” My nipples tightened painfully. He didn’t pull away.
“I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did back there.” His head was still down, not allowing me to see those dark eyes. Without thought, I reached up, threading my fingers in this hair, and tipped his head back. My only thought had been to get those eyes on me again. I needed them on me.
My belly dipped and swirled at the rough sound that tore from his throat. I was about to pull away, to apologize, but he tilted his head, pressing more firmly against my palm, moving the tiniest bit closer. Finally, he raised his chin, thick lashes lifting, and I had them. My body zapped, sparked, breath escaping in a rush, heat curling and growing like a wildfire was spreading over my skin.
“You like my hands on you?” I whispered before I could think better of it.
His breathing had grown ragged, a softness, a vulnerability in his eyes that made me want to give him everything I didn’t think he’d allow himself to ask for. His gaze darted to my bare shoulder, where Kyle had yanked my shirt down, and his wide chest expanded with his sharp inhalation. He didn’t like the reminder of what happened, of Kyle touching me that way. “Do you want to touch me, Eli?”
I could barely believe the words that just came out of my mouth, but I didn’t want to take them back, I wanted those massive hands on me, had wanted them on me for the longest time.
The tip of his tongue darted out, sliding across his bottom lip, then his head dipped, just a fraction.
“You do, don’t you?”
He stared down at me, his large frame, thick with muscle, towering over me, looking like he could pick up that tractor beside us and fling it halfway across the field, which made the almost innocent curiosity, the restrained excitement he was currently aiming my way all the more surprising.
“Yes,” he rasped, cheeks darkening further.
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