“Why are you in Somerset?” she asked as he pulled the truck into the back garage and came to a stop next to the motorcycles parked there.

She stared straight ahead into the darkened garage, uncertain if she even wanted to know why he was there.

“Does it matter why?”

She could feel his gaze on her¸ stroking over her profile, urging her to look at him.

“I don’t know if it matters or not,” she finally breathed out, rubbing at her arms, telling herself it didn’t matter why he was there.

“I don’t like what you’re doing to me, Zoey,” he said then, his voice dark, deep, the surprising statement pulling her gaze to him despite her best intentions not to face him.

He didn’t like what she was doing to him? At least he had a wealth of experience in understanding how to deal with the hunger. She had no idea how to deal with it. Or how to deny it.

“What am I doing?” She’d stayed away from him. She’d even stayed away from Graham and Lyrica’s when she’d learned he was there the week before. “How the hell am I bothering you?”

“Like this.” There was no warning. One second she was glaring at him, the next he’d wrapped his fingers around her braid and pulled her head back, and his lips were devouring hers.

It wasn’t an easy kiss. It sure as hell wasn’t an exploratory one. It was wet and wild, filled with carnality and driving lust. It was his hunger pulling hers free despite her best attempts to push it back. His tongue pumped between her lips, stroked over hers, and with his free arm he dragged her closer to him.

Zoey had no intention of fighting him. For the first time in far too long it wasn’t memories of nightmares or fears haunting her—it was reality. For the second time in her life all her senses were captured¸ engaged, reaching for the promise of even more pleasure than just this kiss.

“That’s what you’ve done to me.” He breathed heavily, his lips lifting from hers just enough to whisper the words over them with a savage growl. “Because I can’t get the taste of you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.”

It was driving her crazy. It was invading even her nightmares. His voice, his hunger touching her, reaching out to her to drag her from the horror of murder and death and into a fantasy of pure, raw pleasure.

He tasted her lips again, sipping at them, parting them with his tongue to fill her mouth and fill her senses with the possession.

“Fuck.”

Before she’d had enough of the tempestuous pleasure, he pulled back from her, his hands rubbing over his face before they wrapped around the steering wheel and clenched it tight.

“Invite me up, Zoey,” he growled as she fought to catch her breath. “Invite me into your bed.”

“Doogan . . .”

“I’m not some kid who enjoys coming in his jeans,” he bit out. “I’ll give you all the foreplay you want, but by God, I won’t walk away hurting afterward. I’ll be inside you, and we’ll both be dying from the pleasure.”

“It’s not that simple.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t come up with an acceptable reason why she shouldn’t invite him up.

“It’s that damned simple,” he insisted harshly.

“For you, maybe,” she exclaimed, breathing in roughly. “It’s not that easy for me. I can’t afford to have you in my life.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” The edge of impatience in his tone was almost amusing. “How will having me in your life cost you anything?”

“What do I mean by that? You don’t want anything but a few nights of sex, Doogan. That’s just a little less than what I imagined my first lover would give me. Leaving is the best thing you could do for both of us. Because you’ll only hurt me, and I’ll never forgive you for it.” She didn’t wait for a response.

It wasn’t just his lack of commitment that would end up hurting her. It would be the actions he took if he was there to witness one of those damned nightmares.

Pushing from the truck, she slammed the door closed and rushed to the metal stairs leading to her apartment. Reaching the door into the second floor, she heard the truck start and a sob tore from her chest. Slamming the door behind her, she blinked back her tears, but there was no blinking back the hurt and aching need rushing through her body.

Two weeks. She’d spent two weeks trying to forget his kiss, and all she’d done was wonder how much better it could be. What his touch would be like, how his lips would feel at her nipples, between her thighs.

She needed him.

She’d just opened her bedroom door at the other end of the apartment when the door behind her slammed again. Twirling around, eyes widening, she watched as Doogan stalked up the dimly lit hall, his expression drawn and intent, lust gleaming in his dark eyes, filling his expression.

She wasn’t going to deny him now and she knew it.

She knew she couldn’t fight him, though she knew she should. If Dawg ever found out about this he’d go insane. Doogan was the scourge as far as the Mackays were concerned. To be avoided at all costs.

Avoiding this wasn’t happening.

He swept her against him, covering her lips with his, stealing any chance of a refusal. Stepping into her room, his tongue pushing past her lips as her bedroom door was slammed shut, the lock snicking into place.

It was crazy, it was insane. It would end up breaking her heart and possibly destroying her life. But if she could have just one night of pleasure rather than nightmares, just a few hours of memories to hold against the darkness, then she’d be okay. She would let him walk away and she promised herself she’d count her broken heart worth it.

Just one night.

“I tried to stay away from you,” he groaned, his lips sliding from hers to her neck when she wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him. “For both of us, Zoey, I tried to stay away.”

And she’d promised Eli she’d stay away from Doogan. She’d meant to keep her word, but she’d known she couldn’t. Not if Doogan touched her again.

“Take that fuckin’ braid out of your hair,” he ordered, his voice hard, his lips wreaking havoc with her senses as he bent to her, his lips moving over her collarbone. “Do it, baby. Take it down. Let me see all those wild curls.”

Her arms lifted to her hair. Pulling the tie free of the leather ponytail grip, she let it fall to the floor. As she struggled to hold on to her senses enough to do as he ordered, her fingers fumbled, tangled several times in the curls springing free of restraint, but finally managed to release them.

She was lifting her fingers free of her hair when Doogan caught the hem of her shirt and whisked it up, clearing her head and arms before she could do more than gasp.

“God, save me,” he muttered, catching her wrists before she could lower them, securing them in one hand and holding them over her head. “Look how sweet. I’ve dreamed of tasting those hard little nipples.”

Zoey jerked against him, a surge of striking, exquisite pleasure erupting in the pit of her stomach and sending sensation to rush to her already swollen clit and slick sex.

With his free hand he released the front clip of her bra. As he brushed the lace cups aside, a rumbling groan left his throat, the sound stealing her breath and her strength.

Releasing her wrists, he brushed the straps of the bra from her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her naked from her hips up.

“If you’re going to throw me out, do it now,” he demanded. “Because I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop later.”

He didn’t wait to let her think about it either. He eased her back the several steps needed before the bed pressed to the backs of her legs.

“Lie down for me, Zoey,” he urged her, his voice rougher, harder now. “Let’s get these boots off you.”

Zoey swallowed, a tight, nervous movement. Sitting down slowly, she let him ease her back until she was reclining on the bed. Staring up at him, in the dim light from the lamp she kept turned on across the room, she watched his shadowed features, watched the hunger growing in his gaze as he began releasing the buttons of his shirt.