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insatiable need. His erection begged for release. A quick drawn breath and he cursed. Instead of being satisfied with pleasuring her, he wanted more than anything to ram his rod deep into her. The beast within ached to turn her back onto her belly, raise that plump ass up, force her to her knees so he could rock her world.
    Running his hands through his hair, he backed completely away from the bed. From the woman. From temptation itself. There she was, her lower half bare to the world, her arms now sprawled blissfully above her head and by Zeus, she was snoring. Snoring! Again!
    The gall of her . He wanted—and almost wished—she would wake up. Scream! Be terrified! Run.
    By Hades he felt that’s exactly what he should be doing. Running as if Hades’ pets Tartahounds were after him, getting out of this place. Out of her life. And never once looking back. Because now he knew he would never be satisfied with what she could give him as a human woman. Now, as a Titan, he wanted the one thing he couldn’t have. And what terrified him more was knowing he was bound to her and that blasted book until Rylan, or someone else, figured out how to release him.
    Darius shook his head and tucked the blanket once again around her, knowing full well that he was going to have to learn to deal with being rock hard and hungry for sex, wanting to pleasure the woman senseless and all the while knowing full well he couldn’t. They might as well have castrated me!

Chapter Three
    Kassandra stretched. Her body felt good. Really good. So good, in fact, she stretched again, curling her toes and extending her arms, cat-like, above her head to flex her fingers. It was then that she heard it. The soft, pounding of running water.
    Someone was taking a shower , and she bloody well knew that someone wasn’t her. But who? She was ninety-eight percent sure that when she’d left the bar she’d been alone. But that left two percent of what if . She remembered getting home and vaguely recalled she’d been looking at the antique book she’d smuggled out of the library. But something fuzzy and strange was starting to nudge at her conscious. Something eerily weird that didn’t fit in with the night.
    She sighed, realizing she must still be dreaming , and tried to close her eyes again. But even with her eyes closed, her other senses were awakening and screaming at her that all was not right. It caused her to clutch the blanket up to her chin like a lifeline.
    If she could have , she’d have crawled under the blanket, but that was the cowardly way of dealing with the what if . Taking a deep calming breath, she opened her eyes and uncurled her fingers from the blanket to flex her legs over the side of the bed. It was then she noticed that her lower half was naked.
    Oh my god, what did I do? She fought with herself to not give in to the scream raging around inside her head. Eyeing her jeans on the floor and her ripped thong, she groaned again.
    She wanted to beat herself up for being so stupid, but she decided a calm approach was best as she shimmed into the jeans minus the underwear. The blasted things were tight. Not her style. But hadn’t that been that the point of last night?
    She recalled giving into her friends who ’d insisted she wear the tight-ass jeans, as they called them, to show off her best feature. Best feature, my ass!
    She looked around for her favorite navy blue sweats and didn’t spot them. Clothing was a good weapon, she thought, realizing the water had stopped and she was about to come face to face with the person in her bathroom.
    With her heart pounding in trepidation , she forced herself to appear calm and moved a few steps away from where she’d been standing. The last place she wanted to be near was the bed. After all, she wasn’t sure what had happened in her bed. As the person emerged from her bathroom, she wanted to be anywhere other than here.
    “This has got to be the smallest towel I’ve ever seen,” growled a rough,