It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Remy had gone all protective on her. He was that kind of man. She knew that going into it. She knew he felt responsible for her and admitting to him she was afraid of one of her stalkers had set him off. His kiss had ignited a fire and she couldn’t put it out, no matter how many times she reminded herself his kiss had been for the cameras and the tabloids to draw out her stalker. So why had it hurt so much to hear Saria confirm what she already knew? Why had it felt as if she’d been stabbed through the heart?

She ran, her mind in chaos, her body in such urgent need she could barely catch her breath. She had never run from anything. She was a fighter, or she made a decision with her brain, not impulsively. Yet, this time, she couldn’t think. She couldn’t stop the blood coursing so hotly through her body. Running was the only thing to do. She had no idea what she would do when she got into town. Certainly she couldn’t have been looking for a one-night stand . . . And then Remy was there, so calm and cool, so totally in charge, like nothing ever got to him.

He’d taken control, like he always did, in that charming, you’re-so-young and I’m-so-grown-up-and-in-command infuriating way of his. She both detested and loved his confidence, and that just showed her how truly screwed up she really was. When he’d taken her car keys right out of her hand, smirking at her, she’d experienced a truly frightening fury.

She didn’t have a temper. Certainly not one with such intensity that it would cause an all-consuming reckless, rash, idiotic compulsion to slash Remy in his face. She wanted to rip his face right off his skull—to wipe that smug, self-confident smirk right off his face forever. For a moment, she even thought of leaping on him and biting him. So very un-Bijou-like. There had been a roaring in her ears. Her hands ached, knuckles swollen until her fingers curled like claws and she could barely stand it.

And then he yanked her to him.

Her stomach bottomed out and the throbbing between her legs turned into a terrible drumbeat of savage need. His hand fisted in her hair and dragged her head back. The bite of pain should have had her kicking and screaming and running for her life, but instead, her body had flooded with a hot, welcoming liquid. Every cell in her body reached for him. Something wild and uninhibited rose like a tidal wave from somewhere deep inside her.