Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(46)

They stared into each other’s eyes. The energy buzzed, hot and strained. It was wrong, stupid, irresponsible, but he leaned forward, breathing her in. Her lips prted. Her eyes had a wild, misty glow.

He kissed her. The zing of contact knocked the cage door wide open, and something big and muscular came barreling out, snorting and pawing. Something that wanted what it wanted and didn’t give a shit about doing the right thing. He tugged down the tattered stretch lace of her shirt, pulling until the points of her soft, perfect tits popped out. Took a whap to the face. Barely noticed it, he was so intent on tasting her nipples. Sweet and taut in his mouth. He flicked his tongue over the rigid buds and suckled until her fingernails dug into his jacket.

He pushed her leg up onto the seat, shoved up the skirt. Didn’t have far to go. Sexy woman smell, mixed with perfumed girly bath products. Her * glowed from their exploits in Tony’s apartment. The gusset of the thong was lost in her plump, juicy folds. She made a breathless sound as he plucked the gusset away and took a long look at damp ringlets, her * lips poking out like a hothouse flower.

“Stop this,” she said. “I thought you wanted answers.”

“I thought I did, too,” he said. “Then I looked under your skirt.”

He wooed her into another kiss for a couple of honey-sweet, wet, sticky minutes, until she gathered her wits and shoved at him again.

“Now is not the time, Bruno! If that guy Aaro came back while we were involved, and saw us, I’d have to kill myself just to save face!”

“How about I kill him, instead?” he suggested. “We’ll just take his van, dump him, and run. What’s one more body, more or less?”

Lily blinked at him for a few seconds. “Um. You’re kidding, right?”

Aw, shit. He flung his head against the seat and shut his eyes. So, he really was that terrifying. How f*cking depressing was that.

“Now is a really bad time to joke about that stuff, Bruno.”

“Fine. I won’t kill him.” He brushed his knuckle over the smudged mascara on her cheekbone. “Don’t be scared of me. I’m not dangerous.”

“No? Three dead guys on the ground in barely over a minute?”

He rocked back, jarred. That event had nothing to do with the person he thought he was. A good fighter, yes, but he approached martial arts more as a sport than anything else. He wasn’t dangerous. He was the class clown, the smart-ass, the charmer who would do anything for a laugh. Not a killer.

But those guys were dead. He could call it self-defense, but he hadn’t been thinking self-defense. He hadn’t thought at all.

He’d just killed. So easily. Smoothly. Like some part of him was used to it.

He stared at her lips, her tangle of glossy hair. He tended to distract himself from uncomfortable feelings as quickly and forcibly as possible. Sex was an awesome distraction.

He tried to look harmless. “I’m not dangerous to you,” he told her.

“Bullshit,” she whispered. “You could destroy me.”

He winced. “Stop being so apocalyptic. It bugs me.”

She giggled, which he took as a good sign. “Can you blame me?”

He thudded down, off the seat, onto the floor. So. Didn’t look like he was going to score. Not unless he forced the issue, which would make the disconnect complete. The old Bruno, the new Bruno. The Bruno who could slaughter three guys was hard enough to integrate with his self-image. A Bruno who forced a woman into sex . . . nah.God, it was hard, though. He shoved Lily’s knees together, hard, and dropped his head down to the tops of her thighs, pressing his hot cheek against the grubby coat. The tryst in Tony’s apartment played in his head. Every hot, silken clutch of her * around his aching prong, burned forever into his memory. He ground his fists against his eyes until kaleidoscopic sparks swirled and spun in his inner vision.

Red like blood. Spattering Lily’s coat. Trickling out of the mouth of the guy on the ground. Oozing from the crushed skull of the other man.

So familiar. Fighting like a robot. Losing control, being taken over. Like his Rudy dreams. Except that the opponents had been real this time, and could die. Had died. Broken and bleeding.

Lily’s hands came to rest on his head. She bent over and laid her face against the back of his head. The hot rhythm of her breath had transformed his scalp into an erogenous zone. He endured it in a state of razor-edged sensual overload. Pure heavenly bliss. Fucking torture.

Click. They jerked apart as the door slid open. Aaro stuck his head in. “I saw that,” he growled.

“Saw what?” Bruno asked, defensive.

Aaro tossed assorted shopping bags into the van. “You owe me three hundred and ninety bucks so far.” He held out a paper food bag.

Bruno took it. “Oh. Ah, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. No favors means no thanks.”

“Yeah, right.” Bruno dug for the coffee.

“I thought you should get some caffeine and sugar into her before her blood pressure went south.” Aaro looked Lily over. “But she’s glowing. Looks like you’ve successfully regulated her blood pressure in other, more pleasurable ways.”

“Shut up, Aaro,” Bruno growled.

“Just get this straight, loverboy. No boinking in my van.”

“Fuck off,” Lily’s voice rang out. “We didn’t do anything.”