Annihilation Road by Christine Feehan

until there was nothing left.
    Savage . . . She sighed and scooted closer to him, so she could use both hands to massage his head. She’d learned to do a scalp massage when she was ten years old from a professional masseuse, so she could massage her father’s head when he was in pain.
    “Baby, you don’t have to do that,” Savage said without opening his eyes. “Just lying next to you makes it better.”
    Her heart lurched. That was bad. Really, really bad. Hewasn’t there because he thought she was beautiful. Or because he was so attracted, he just had to have her. He could lie in bed next to her and not reach for her, which really was an insult because Savage was the most sexual man she’d ever encountered. He radiated sex, and not just sex, but carnal, sinful, wicked sex, the way he radiated pain and rage. His kind of sex was something she’d dreamt of, fantasized about, was scared of and knew was not for her. She was too . . . tame. He was too wild.
    He wanted to be with her for purely platonic reasons—she brought him peace. That was her gift and her curse. She had hoped he wouldn’t feel it—that what worked for some, didn’t work on him. It wasn’t like she didn’t have men flirting outrageously all the time. She sang in bars. That would naturally follow. Aside from the fact that she was maybe—okay, very—curvy, she was good-looking if she wasn’t being critical of herself. She just didn’t react to men the way she should. She craved . . . something she couldn’t name. She needed something darker. Something someone like Savage might offer, just not quite so intense.
    “You’ve gone quiet on me, Seychelle. I’m not sure what to think about that.”
    Looking down at him, she could see those ultra-long lashes. No man who looked as scary as he did should have his lashes. “I’m thinking.”
    He sighed and started to turn his head upward, so he could see her. She held his head still. “Don’t move. Just lay there. You’re disturbing my sleep, so I should get to do whatever I want with you.”
    His mouth curved into a smile, but she couldn’t see his eyes, so she couldn’t tell if it was real. She doubted it. Savage wasn’t a man given to smiles.
    “I crawl through your window, take off most of my clothes, get in bed with you and all you want to do is rub my head?”
    “You are bald. It’s possible I could get three wishes to come true.”
    “That would only work if I were really bald. I shave my head. There’s a difference.”
    “Receding hairline?” Deliberately, she pushed sympathy into her voice, when she wanted to laugh.
    He moved so fast she barely had time to blink when he caught both her arms and yanked her down over the top of him. She landed across his lap, face buried in the mattress. His hand smacked her bottom hard and then he pushed her back into a sitting position over his head. Clearly, he was much stronger even than she had imagined.
    “Ow.” Seychelle rubbed her bottom and glared at him, not that he was looking at her. “Sheesh. Will you stop doing that? It’s not like I’m wearing much padding. I guess I should qualify that statement—I meant in the way of clothing.”
    “You deserved that. And don’t remind me of your lack of clothing.”
    “I take great exception to your reasoning. Receding hairline is the number one reason for men shaving their heads. I’m sure I read that statistic on the internet.”
    He reached over his head, found her hand and put it on his head. “Get to work, woman, and stop trying to defend a completely indefensible position.”
    “You told me I didn’t have to massage your scalp.”
    “I changed my mind. Fuck, woman, you have a mouth on you. Why aren’t you afraid of me like everyone else?”
    She could tell him the truth. But if she did, if she told him she could “see” inside him, he would probably take out one of his many weapons and shoot her. Or he’d leave, and she’d never see him again. Because she