Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(105)

“No, I would not do that,” he said. “Since you’re evidently wondering. I would not force you, ever.” He withdrew instantly, and stood up. Cold rushed in where his hot body had been, racking her with shudders. “I’m not that much of a controlling bastard. Jesus, Lara. I thought you said you trusted me.”

“It’s true.” Her teeth were chattering. “I do. Even now.”

“What good is that if I can’t trust you back?”

With that parting shot, he stalked off into the kitchen, and then the bathroom, slamming the door. Leaving her wrecked.

She sagged back onto the couch, shuddering with sobs. When he took away his sustaining energy, she was only two feet tall, helpless and terrified. He’d gotten in her head, made himself her pillar of strength. Without him, she would become that pile of smoking rubble that all those months in the rat hole had actually made of her.

She’d thought that the way she felt now was a miraculous healing, but she couldn’t take credit for any of it. She’d just been leaning on his strength.

Now he was taking it away. Jettisoning her into outer space so that he could run off and perform his own act of goddamn suicidal heroism without any interference from her. Leaving her naked, destroyed, alone.

So unfair. It made her f*cking furious.

She got up and stomped naked through the kitchen. Wrenched open the bathroom door.

Miles had just stepped out of the shower. He stood there in a cloud of steam, towel in hand. Drops of water trailed seductively over the taut, angular contours of his powerful body. His cock, still half hard, rose to greet her.

“You bastard,” she said. “I am so angry at you.”

Miles tossed the towel away, pushing heavy, dripping hair back off his forehead. “I know just how you feel.”

“No, you don’t!” she raged. “You arrogant son of a bitch. You weren’t locked in a hole and mindf*cked for months on end. You don’t know shit!”

His eyebrow twitched up. “Feeling sorry for ourselves, are we?”

“Shut up!” she yelled at him. “Just shut up!”

“I tried,” he said. “You followed me in here, Lara. You’re the one who wanted more.”

“I came in here to kick your arrogant ass! Who do you think you are, having a tantrum on me, when you’re the one who’s riding off on the kamikaze mission? And you have the nerve to give me attitude?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m nothing but nerve. One big raw nerve.”

His move was so swift. She gasped, and then she was pinned between the chilly tiles of the bathroom wall and his hot, wet body. Straddling him, legs over his elbows. Wide open.

“If you want to say no, say it right now,” he said. “Loud.”

She swatted his chest. “Goddamn you, Miles!”

“That wasn’t a no.” He thrust his cock slowly inside her. Withdrew, slow and deliberate, and shoved in once again, deep and hard. “You shouldn’t have come in here. Now you just deal with me.”

He blocked whatever response she might have made by kissing her. She wrapped herself around him and kissed him back.

Furiously. Clinging to his neck, fingers dug into the thick muscles of his shoulders. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she didn’t care. She wanted his heat, his light. She never wanted to let him go, never wanted those deep, slick strokes inside her body to end.

But nothing lasted forever. The explosion obliterated her.

They stayed locked together, glued. Muscles shaking, for many long, silent minutes. She sensed that the fragile bubble of perfect intimacy would pop the minute that reality intruded again.

Miles was the first to move. He glanced up at the small bathroom window. “Sky’s lighter,” he said. “It’s almost dawn. Let’s get moving.”

He withdrew from her body, setting her gently on her feet, and reached to turn on the shower.

“Miles,” she whispered, and switched to the head texting.

are we ok?

He switched the water off again and leaned against the shower booth. He did not turn to look at her. “Just because I came?” he said out loud. “No. But we can’t wait to thrash out our issues. We don’t have the luxury. Can’t put off the farewell f*ck.”

She flinched back, covered her face. “Oh, God.”

He switched the water on again, testing until it got hot. “Get in,” he said. “If both of us stay quiet, we can’t say anything unbearable.”

She was surprised when he stepped in after her.

She tried turning to face him, but he turned her back, filled his hands with soap, and caressed her all over. His strong hands were magic, transmitting a tingling heat. Letting his hands say what words could not. She turned her face to the water, let it rinse away her tears.

But the water went cold, and that moment of grace ended, too.

He switched the water off. She clung to him, as the chilly water dripped around them, and hid her face against his chest.

“I’ll get on that bus,” she said, her voice choked. “I’ll disappear, like you said. But not because you commanded me to, got that? It’s because I love you. And I trust you. And I believe in you. Okay?”

He was startled into silence for a long moment. Water plopped from the showerhead, hollow and loud in the stillness. “Okay,” he said softly, kissing her forehead. “Thank you.”