The terror of almost losing her had wrapped around him like a vise, suffocating him. But now, with the immediate danger temporarily abated, something darker and more primitive clawed its way to the surface—a need so raw and visceral that his fingers flexed unconsciously at his sides.
Miranda gazed up at him, her eyes wide and questioning as they searched his face. "Nolan... Sir—"
Before she could finish, he was upon her, his mouth crashing against hers, consuming whatever words she had been about to speak. His kiss wasn't tender. It was desperate, punishing—a wordless claim that verged on complete possession. She gasped against his mouth, her fingers clutching at his shirt as he backed her against the wall.
"Tell me you're alright," he demanded, his breath scorching her skin as his lips trailed down her jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh of her throat. "Tell me you can handle this."
