The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 282

No Turning Back 1-1

The air between them was thick, charged with something that made Lori’s skin prickle and her breath

catch.

He was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Like she was prey and treasure and salvation all at once.

Lori’s heart hammered against her ribs. Her wolf was on overdrive, pacing frantically inside her mind, howling with need and anticipation. The heat was consuming her-every nerve ending on fire, every cell screaming for him. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every brush of air against her flesh sending shivers of desperate longing through her body.

But beneath the heat, there was tension.

Anxiety.

Fear.

*Is this really happening?* she thought wildly. *Is he really going to…*

Then Attia’s composure cracked.

It was subtle-a slight tightening of his jaw, a flicker in his dark eyes, a tremor in his powerful hands-but Lori saw it. The careful control he had been maintaining all night, the iron discipline that had kept him from devouring her the moment he saw her trembling in that shower, shattered like glass.

His eyes blazed with a fire that made her breath catch.

He moved.

In two quick strides, he was in front of her. His hands gripped her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh with a possessiveness that made her gasp. He lifted her effortlessly, her body molding against his, and she felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her hip.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading through his dark hair. She could feel his heart pounding against hers, a wild rhythm that matched her own.

He carried her toward the massive bed, his strides long and determined. The firelight flickered across his face, illuminating the hunger in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

He laid her down on the dark linens.

The sheets were cool against her overheated skin, a brief respite from the fire that consumed her. She gasped at the contrast, her body arching slightly, seeking more of the cool relief. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him.

She looked up at him, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed with desire. Her thin tank top was still damp from the shower, clinging to her curves, revealing every shiver that ran through her body.

Attia stood at the foot of the bed, looking down at her like a predator surveying his prey. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his breath coming in ragged pants. His hands were clenched at his sides, the

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No Turning B)-!

muscles in his arms straining with the effort of restraint.

Then he reached for the hem of his shirt.

He pulled it off in one smooth motion, the fabric sliding over his head and falling to the floor.

Lori’s breath caught in her throat

Claim

The sight that met her eyes stole the air from her lungs. His body was sculpted-broad shoulders that seemed to block out the firelight, a defined chest covered in a light dusting of dark hair, a stomach that rippled with hard muscle. Scars traced across his skin like silver rivers, telling stories of battles fought and survived, of a life lived on the edge. His arms were thick and powerful, corded with muscle that flexed as

he moved.

He was beautiful. Devastating. Utterly, completely male.

Her mouth went dry. Her hands trembled at her sides.

He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze never leaving hers. His eyes were dark, intense, burning with a hunger that matched her own. The firelight danced across his skin, illuminating every ridge of muscle, every hard plane of his body.

He finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “Do you want this?”

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