Deadly Fear (Deadly #1)(74)

He kissed her shoulder.

She should stop him, tell him not to—

His mouth pressed over the ragged flesh.…

No!

“The… strongest… the sexiest…” Thrust. Slow glide out… driving thrust. One that shook the bed, and her. “I’d f*cking… kill for you.”

Monica threw back her head. Her climax slammed through her. Pleasure so intense it hurt.

He came in her, a long hot splash, as her sex contracted around him.

Her fingers dug into the mattress. She closed her eyes and tried to suck in as much air as she could.

He held her tight. His legs trembled against her. Not the only one who’s weak.

She licked her lips and tried to swallow.

Luke’s still firm length slid out of her.

Flesh to flesh.

“I’m…” A long expulsion of air. “I’m safe, Monica, you don’t have to worry about—”

No condom. Her eyes flew right back open as reality reared its head.

But she wouldn’t lie to herself. At that first hot touch of his cock, she’d wanted him. Bare. In her, just as he was. “I’m safe too. There’s no… risk.” She’d been on the pill for years. A backup. Just in case.

“Monica, we have to talk.” Gruff.

But she didn’t want to. She wanted to f*ck, and she wanted to forget. The last thing she wanted was to talk.

She rolled away from him. “I-I have to clean up.” She walked to the bathroom on legs that weren’t quite steady. The door closed behind her with a click, and she stared into the mirror at the glassy-eyed woman with the flushed cheeks.

A woman who looked alive now, when she’d once looked like a ghost.

Monica turned her shoulder and saw the raised skin that marked her. Anger coiled in her belly. “Screw you, *,” she whispered. He wasn’t going to hurt her, not anymore.

Luke had taken her in the darkness, and in the light. He’d treated her like his woman, not some freak.

She stared into the mirror and let her shoulders drop.

Not a victim.

Just a woman.

And Luke was just a man. One who’d stood by her for so long, without knowing the darkness she carried.

That bastard attacked him. She’d left Luke alone in that alley, run because she was afraid of him knowing the truth about her past, and she’d left him for the killer.

Her fingers curved around the sharp edges of the sink. What would I have done if he’d killed Luke?

Her heart seemed to stop. Fear. For so long, it had been her companion. Awake. Asleep. So afraid… what if others find out? What will they think of me? How will they look at me?

She looked at herself in the mirror. Saw the same image she’d always seen. And the fear was still there, inside, lodged above her heart. But it was different now. Because now, she wondered… What will I do if something happens to him?

Luke.

He’d broken through the ice.


He’d screwed up. Luke lay on the bed, his forearm thrown over his eyes, and realized that he was one serious jackass.

The woman had needed tenderness. Care.

She’d gotten hard, fast, and desperate.

He’d taken her with the raw lust that always rode him when she was near. Always.

But just once, dammit, just once, he wished he’d been able to show her more than lust and fury.

He raised his arm and glared down at the cock that was still aroused for her. “Idiot.” The throb in his head was back. When he’d been with Monica, he hadn’t even noticed the dull ache. But then, he hadn’t noticed anything but her.

Oh, Christ, what she must have gone through all those years ago. When she’d gone into the shower, he’d used her computer to log onto the FBI’s site and access the Romeo files. He’d hit the files after he first found that clipping, but now, knowing Monica was the victim, he had to read everything again. Had to know every single detail.

Five minutes later, sweat beaded his forehead. He’d seen the pictures of the other vics. Seen that pit Romeo had kept her in.

Fuck. His hands were shaking.

The shower shut off. He sucked in a breath so hard his chest hurt. After he’d finished checking the files, he’d turned the lights off, for her, because he knew she’d want it that way. So now he lay still and quiet, waiting for Monica to come to him.

When the door opened, steam drifted lazily into the room. The light spilled onto the floor. She’d leave that on, just a hint of—

Monica turned off the light.

He could only see the faint outline of her body when she came to him. The carpet swallowed the sound of her slow footsteps.

Then she was at the edge of the bed. After the briefest hesitation, she slid in next to him. Warm flesh, smelling sweet and clean. Wet hair. Mouth—

Kissing his neck.

His greedy cock jerked.

Down boy.

“Thank you, Luke. You gave me just what I needed,” she whispered.

He turned toward her. He caught her hand and held it tight over his heart. She had to feel the hard thunder. “And what did you need?” Sex? Anyone could have given her that, and he wasn’t going to be anyone to her.

Not when she was everything.

“You treated me like I was a woman. Someone you wanted—” Like hell on fire.