Breeding the Surrogate
Her breath caught as she felt the unmistakable press of something hard against her body.
She met his gaze, her own wide and uncertain.
She should be scared.
But she wasn’t.
Beckett leaned in. His lips hovered just inches from hers, their breaths mingling, heat radiating between them. He held her still by the neck, not squeezing, just holding, as though debating whether to kiss her or devour her.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.
And slipped from the apartment without a word.
The door slammed shut behind him.