Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (english readers TXT) 📗

to wound him again. He didn’t trust her any more, she reminded herself.

It still took all she could do to gather the nerve to try again.

He flinched all over when she placed her palm lightly on his back. She hesitated and finally allowed her hand to skim downward until she cupped one hard, rounded buttock. He whirled on her with a snarl when she did that. Seizing her shoulders, he shoved her roughly against the wall again. This time instead of kissing her mouth, however, he focused on her throat and breasts. Jolts of sensation shot through her with each open mouthed kiss he dragged along her throat, but that paled by comparison to the fire that boiled through her when he began to suckle hungrily on first one breast and then the other. She completely lost sight of her objective, too drunk with pleasure to begin to think, too focused on trying to keep her legs under her when they’d turned boneless with weakness.

When he shoved away from her again, she uttered a faint sound of protest, but she was too shocked to manage any more than that. It took all she could do even to stay on her feet as she watched him leave the bathing unit and then the bathroom itself as he was fleeing. He hadn’t even paused to grab a sheet to dry off, she thought numbly. He’d stalked from the bathroom dripping puddles of water.

Dragging in a shaky breath, Bronte turned to finish her bath mechanically, trying to figure out what had happened. He wanted her. He wouldn’t have kissed her like that if he hadn’t. Why would he do that? As much as she hated his idea of punishment when she did something he didn’t like, she was obliged to admit it wasn’t nearly as bad as some things he could have thought of—like locking her into the hold. This felt a lot like his brand of punishment, but she couldn’t believe that this was the same thing. She hadn’t done anything … lately.

Undoubtedly, she thought miserably, she’d underestimated just how angry he was about it. He hadn’t seemed to be the type to hold a grudge before. Either she’d been mistaken and he was, or she’d screwed up a lot worse than she’d thought she had.

When Jerico did the same thing to her the very next day, she decided it couldn’t possibly be just a matter of hurt or resentment. She hadn’t said anything to Jerico. Why would he be holding a grudge?

It wasn’t bad enough that the way they treated her made her feel lower than a snake. She was horny, too, damn it! After a week of that, she was just about ready to claw their eyes out. She would’ve run if she’d had anywhere to hide, or if they’d given her enough warning to try.

She reached a point where her own resentment—and desperate need—extinguished every sense of charity and remorse she’d been nursing. Gabriel, she realized, was the only one who wasn’t going out of his way to torment her. In fact, just the opposite. He’d begun to avoid her like she had the plague. It was more because he hadn’t tormented her, she thought, than because he seemed to be in full retreat that fixated her interest.

She didn’t think it was a hunter’s instincts that had drawn her attention.

But what did she know?

She knew she was beginning to feel really desperate and she hadn’t managed to push either Jerico or Gideon beyond a certain point—that point being the critical time when she was hovering on the brink of coming and ready to mount their shaft herself if she could’ve gotten hold of it.

The bastards!

Gabriel, she decided, was just too sweet to bring himself to behave as badly as Jerico and Gideon were behaving. He didn’t trust her any more than they did, which was why he kept his distance, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mean.

The problem was, even after she’d focused on her target, she discovered Gabriel was a lot harder to nail. If he came into the room and she was sleeping, or propped up in the bed reading, he left again without having moved more than three feet into the room—as if there was some invisible barrier he’d run into. If he came in to bathe and she was in the bathing unit, he retreated immediately. She would’ve had to chase him down and tackle him to mount him!

She’d begun to think Gabriel was unattainable when he finally gave her the perfect opportunity to get what she wanted.

Chapter Twelve

Bronte was sitting on the bed reading when Gabriel came in. She barely glanced up when he froze, sending her the hunted look he’d begun to cast in her direction whenever he found himself alone with her. He hesitated when she pretended to ignore him and finally crossed the room to stand beside the bunk.

Bronte sucked in her breath and held it the moment she realized he was striding toward her, tensing all over. Trying to regulate her frantic heart beat and rapid breaths, she kept her eyes on the text, hoping that he meant to lay down to sleep.

He didn’t lay down or sit down. Instead, she realized that he was holding something out, waiting for her to take it. Lifting her head, she discovered it was her long lost glasses.

A little stunned, she looked up at him.

“I repaired these for you,” he said uncomfortably. “They do not look as they did, but I have mended the frame, at least, so it will stay together.”

It was so thoughtful of him she was almost as stunned as she was pleased. Her chest tightened with emotion as she dragged her gaze from his and studied the glasses again.

She still wasn’t willing to give up the advantage he’d given her. The problem was, she couldn’t decide for several moments how she could use the advantage. If she sprang up and grabbed him, he would probably slough her