The words I was ready to throw at him are stuck in my dry throat. I swear all the moisture in my body is concentrated in the wetness that’s gathering between my thighs as he looks at me like that—like a man starved, like a man who’s gone feral and could feed until he’s gorged himself on my insides and picked my bones clean. I take a few cautious steps back from him as adrenaline pumps through me for a dizzying high.
