The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) Read Online Free PDF

spine.
    Later, she’d convince herself
it was some sort of quick-fix Stockholm deal that had her attacking him. A
brain aneurysm or a temporary blackout. When in reality she just couldn’t pick
one thing to feel, and it cocktailed into the insanity of a feral kiss that
rocked tall, dark and klepto right at the centre of her and crushed them into a
grind so close that she could feel the steely hard press of his ... gun ... in
shocking detail at the apex of her thighs. Yeah. Aneurysm for sure.
    Her hands got tangled in his
hair ... so soft ... clawed at his nape and tore down the neck of his tee
to reach skin as her mouth got familiar with his, a biting, tongue-duelling,
lip-bruising assault that panted her frustration, her fear and her lust into
shared breaths. He was raw and animal, tasting of rain in the forest, moonlight
on water, fresh and primal. Fire to her ice.
    His rough hands were all over
her, hungrily seeking every inch of her skin, riding her tank top up the
straining cage of her ribs to palm the soft swells of her breasts, grazing the
tight peaks of her nipples that begged the wet suction of his mouth, his teeth.
    She was pliant, bowing into
his hands. A low moan escaped his throat. His hips pumped up between her thighs
with shallow fuck-thrusts and his hands grappled blindly at the waistband of
her sweats.
    Feeling the friction of his
straining zipper, she drove down with her hips, making rough circles as she
melted through the thin fabric of her sweats. Hardly protection, right now,
they were too much. She panted aroused frustration, needing him naked. Forcing herself
from their kiss on a gasp from bruised lips, her breasts, bereft of his warmth,
chilled to the air and her nipples ached a protest. Left unattended, she
throbbed. He groaned a protest while she set to her struggle with his clothing
... No stopping ...
    Ash tugged on his zipper so
hard she thought she’d rip the thing right out of the fabric, but it didn’t
budge. Come on! She needed skin.
    Her fingers hooked into the
neck of his shirt, hauling him back to her mouth with a satisfying growl. There
was a rip as the fabric gave way to her clawing lust. Grrrrrr ... Her
own passion amused her. The strength of an emotion she usually couldn’t stoke
up enough to want to kiss someone had poured out of her. And all it had taken
was an intruder, a frying pan and rough hands.
    Ooooh, skin! Her eyes caught on the flash and her fingers splayed
over the taut muscles of his chest. If he got to touch, Ash was damn well not
going to be denied. She grasped ... Metal? ... Yes ... Small
hoops pierced through his nipples. Her smile was hungry on his lips, her
fingers hooking in and tugging hard in a twist that ripped a snarl from his
mouth and shot her gaze to watch. He liked that. She did it again, hips
winding, shimmying to help him divest her of her sweats. Molten, she was a volcano
of need strung tight and ready to ... Freeze.
    The crack of ice as it formed
should have been audible, it spread so quickly to chill her ardour, imprisoning
her in a frozen block of terror that stopped her heart and stamped it into a
roaring Grand National gallop of panic. Ash jolted back as the flames between
her thighs recoiled, extinguished by a brand she saw every night on the waves
of darkness.
    She’d never thought to see it
again. Not on living flesh and blood, anyway. Dream bodies didn’t count. But it
was here, larger than life, lying between her thighs. A tattoo scarred straight
into muscle: a stylised, Celtic wolf.
    Death, how she remembered it.
    ‘No...’ She was talking to
the man beneath her, but she was addressing the demons from her nightmares, her
undulations switched to frantic, thrashing attempts at escape.
    ‘What exactly is your
problem, beautiful?’ His growl was as ragged as the torn shreds of his shirt.
    All she could do was stare,
her eyes wild with terror, fixated on the wolf-brand on his chest. Pallor
drained her cheeks of what little colour they had.