Blood and Fire (McClouds & Friends #8)(66)

15


Bruno arch





ed like she’d slapped him with electric paddles. “Jesus, Lily,” he hissed. “You startled me.”

“You shouldn’t turn your back on me if I’m so terrifying.”

He let out a sigh. Shook his head. And did not turn.

“You need to relax,” she said, stroking him. “I can’t imagine that would be easy, though. Being in bed with a madwoman and all.”

“Goddamnit, Lily. Shut up with that crap.”

“Um, no. I can’t. Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just stressed. Makes me do that nervous-talking thing. You know. You do it, too, right?”

“Sometimes. Lately, I’ve been working on keeping my yap shut. The results look promising. I recommend it.”

She cuddled closer. He stiffened. “You, advocating self-control?” She slid her hand beneath his jacket. “That’s kind of funny.”

“Don’t,” he muttered. “Please.”

But she couldn’t resist. She found the bottom of his sweatshirt and slid her hand inside. Her breath caught as she connected with hot, smooth skin, the big, graceful contours of his back, the ridges of bone, the slabs of muscle. Powerful and ripped. His body was superdeluxe.

He arched back with a gasp as she explored the curve of his shoulder blade, the small, bumpy muscles that overlaid his ribs. She let her fingers slide up his spine until they touched the cowlick at his nape. It was shaved almost to stubble to tame the curl, but she could see the tender swirl, the circular pattern. It filled her with yearning.

She wanted to kiss it. And didn’t have the nerve. Tormenting him was one thing. She could brace herself for him to be stern, to make her be good. But she’d shrivel and die of shame if he rejected her tenderness.

Her hand slid to his waistband. Inside, to the cleft of his ass.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was strangled.

“Oh, Bruno. That’s just sad. If you have to ask.”

“Christ.” His voice was pleading. “Don’t do this.”

She snuggled closer. “In a way, it’s liberating.” She pressed her lips against the curve of his neck, breathing in his hot male musk.

“What’s liberating?”

She nipped him gently. “That you already think I’m deranged.”

He twist to glare at her. “I never said that!”

“Actions speak louder than words. The point is, since I’m crazy, I’m not responsible for anything. I can do, well, anything. Wow.” She slid her hand around his front, let her fingers trail down that silken arrow of chest hair. “It opens up my horizons like never before.”

He grabbed her hand, clamping it against his belly so that it couldn’t creep lower. “Don’t.”

“And this situation forces you to be the grown-up at all costs. Mr. Mature. It’s a role you’re not used to playing, right?”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Nothing bad,” she soothed. “You don’t deny yourself much. Who could blame you? You have money. You’re good-looking. You enjoy women. They enjoy you back. You avoid responsibility.”

He sat up, glaring. “So I’m a frivolous playboy *?”

“Shhh,” she soothed. “Don’t yell at me, Bruno. I’m unstable, remember? I might freak out on you.” She stuck her thumbs in her ears, waggled her fingers. “Stay very calm. Don’t set me off.”

He got up, turning away from her. “Stop pushing me. Please.”

The vibrating tension in his voice sobered her giddy mood. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I just can’t seem to do that.”

He turned to her. “You want me to f*ck you now.”

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t have to answer it. A good thing, because she couldn’t speak. She just gulped and waited. Hopefully.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he announced. “I just had the one, in my pocket this morning. That’s it.”

Oh. Geez. She was taken aback. Such a prosaic reason.

“I would have had to ask Aaro to buy condoms for us this morning when we stopped for groceries to be prepared for sex,” he said. “And I just didn’t have the stomach for it.”

She cleared her throat. “I, ah, don’t blame you one little bit.”

“I assume you’re not on the pill. Being on the run and all that.” He paused, hopefully. “Unless you have an implant, or something.”

“No,” she said quietly. “No implant. No something.”

He blew out a heavy sigh. “So there we are.”

“Can’t we just . . .” She flapped her hands eloquently. “You know.”

“Yeah, I know. In a normal universe I’d say, sure we could. I’m usually good when it comes to sexual control. But not with you.”

She wondered if she should be offended. “Why?” she asked. “What’s so special about me?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Going to bed with you is like getting on the ultimate fun house carnival ride. The door closes, and the ride starts, and it’s bigger than I am. And it ain’t over ’til it’s over.”