Taken by the Pack Read Online Free Page A

didn’t need exciting. Jackson Breaux…he’d been her one walk on the wild side.
    They’d been working on a bayou cleanup day together. He was like that. Most days, he disappeared deep inside the bayou, doing whatever it was he did there. Fishing. Hunting. Once in a while, though, he’d come out. Not quite civilized. That afternoon, though, she'd worked next to him, mesmerized by his strong, tanned hands. The words had come out of her mouth before she thought them through.
    “You want to go out with me on Friday night?”
    His dark, feral eyes slew her way and he eyed her thoughtfully. It was like being pinned by a predator, except that the kind of eating he probably had in mind wasn’t one she’d mind at all.
    “Oysters,” she clarified when he didn’t say anything. “A pitcher of beer. We can do some dancing. I’m heading back to Louisiana State in a week.”
    We can do me.
    His slow smile, when it came, lit her right up. He'd never been much for talking and that was fine with her. If she’d wanted pretty words, she’d have propositioned his brother Landry.
    “I’ve got a truck. I’ll pick you up.”
    And so they'd gone out. A night of beer and oysters. Of watching the shellfish slide down his powerful throat. God. He was beautiful. She was pathetic. Other women—and a few men—eyed them from the bar’s booths.
    Eventually, they'd danced, hips bumping, on the oyster bar's makeshift dirt dance floor. She didn't need fancy, just fun, and it didn't matter that she wasn’t particularly skilled in the dancing department because he was fantastic. The erection barely concealed behind the buttons of his blue jeans was equally fantastic. Each hard, uncompromising brush of his dick drove her higher until she was almost coming on the dance floor. It was delicious, decadent, and absolutely, one hundred percent out of character for her. She loved it.
    Was ready to fall head over heels for him .
    Then his cell buzzed, breaking the spell, and he pulled the phone out, frowning. “I got to go, shug .”
    He dropped a kiss on the end of her nose, tossed a handful of bills on their table and strolled out the door. Jackson Breaux left her standing high, dry and needing in the middle of the bar without so much as a backward glance or an I'll call you tomorrow.
    Shit. Hell. Fuck. She tried out the words she never used out loud and used all of them because the night shouldn't have ended like that, with her fully clothed and Jackson Breaux God knows where, but definitely not in her arms or her bed even if he'd tricked his way into her heart.
    And then she'd grown the hell up—her new favorite curse word—and gone back to Louisiana State and vet school. But Jackson Breaux was always there, in the back of her head and under her skin.
    He had absolutely no business standing here in her clinic, buck-ass naked with that half-smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
    So, hell no. She so did not want a hand from him. Or a tongue, dick or any other part of his anatomy he might be volunteering. He’d had his chance and he’d blown it. She’d moved on and was over him.
    Liar, a little voice cried. Denied, her head hollered right back, knowing exactly which part of her was doing the begging and pleading. Even if part of her wanted to beg him to come on over and slip his fingers beneath the edges of her panties. He’d definitely know how to touch her until she hollered and that was one more reason to avoid him.
    He’d dominate her.
    Take everything she had to give and then some. He made Cruz Jones look like a puppy dog and she was so far out of her league, it wasn't funny. Her younger self hadn’t recognized the danger of letting this man anywhere near her body. Or her heart. How nice that she was older and wiser now.
    “You get the hell out of here, Jackson.” Just to emphasize her point, she slugged him again. Too bad he had abs of steel and didn’t as much as flinch. Nope. All she managed to accomplish was to set her