CHAPTER 93

Claire was so lost in the dizzying fog of rage engulfing her that it took a moment to realize he’d let her wrists go and for those soft words to penetrate. When they did and his meaning hit home, the breath halted in her throat. Fight him? As in, really fight him? It was ridiculous. He outweighed her by at least seventy pounds of solid muscle and had trained most of his life in hand to hand combat. She didn’t want to fight him, she just wanted… God, she didn’t know what she wanted. She couldn’t fucking think with him this close.

His eyes were so blue, so intense. “Do it,” he taunted, more forcefully this time. She could practically feel the leashed energy humming in his big frame, every muscle coiled and ready, making her body respond in turn.

Her compressed lungs expanded in a sudden gasp and she drew in a painful breath of air. The pain came rushing back. It hurt. All of it. The funeral, the fallout with what was left of her family, the Taliban cell’s t
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