In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(103)

The words racked her, a shudder of emotion. “Oh, God, Sam.”

“It’ll calm me down.” He grinned mischievously. “It’ll make me sweet and tractable. Can I have my dose of happy juice?”

She shook with half-hysterical laughter. “Stop it. Don’t joke about that, after all the drama! It’s not fair!”

“I know, but hey, you laughed, right? I’ll do or say anything to make you laugh. And if you came for me, ahhh. Right against my face. Pure heaven. That would be it. I’d be your helpless slave forever.”

He put his mouth to her, stroking his tongue up her folds. She gasped. Swirl, suckle. Stroke and plunge. He got his hand into the action, fingerf*cking her. Engaging all the hot spots at once.

She was tense and quivering for a few minutes, but she finally gave in. Trusting him, even when he drove her to that naked leap into the void. He pressed his mouth to her clit while the waves pounded her. Fingers shoved up deep into her *. Squeezed with each hot pulse.

Now she was ready. A lake of slick, hot lube to ease his way.

Her eyes popped open as he settled over her. She moaned softly at the nudge of his cock, forging inside her. She clung to his shoulders.

He kissed her hungrily, his tongue dominating her mouth. It was majestically slow for many sighing, trembling minutes, but soon the hot, electric lick of pleasure got them both going. She started bucking under him, inciting him with her body to ride her harder. He obliged.

It was deep, pounding, amazing, every stroke. She whimpered and gasped as her * licked and clutched his cock. More. Harder. Each thrust more impossibly awesome than the one before. Winding them both up again to that terrifying swell of energy. He muttered incoherent encouragement into her ear as she bucked, wailed, throbbed.

He exploded. Energy blazed through his chest. He was unmoored, lost in the void. She was the cord thrown out to save him.

When he came back to who he was, where they were, she was petting his damp back, as if memorizing the shape of his muscles, his bones. “Sam,” she said softly. “There’s something I need to clarify.”

His eyes popped open. His body tensed. “Yeah?”

“About what you said this morning,” she said. “When you went all scary alpha on me. And you said that it makes me feel safe.”

“Uh, yeah. I did,” he said. “Sorry about that. What of it?”

“It’s not your alpha vibe that does it for me. That’s fun, in bed, and I get off on it, sure. But that’s not what makes me feel safe.”

“So what’s your point?” he demanded. “What does?”

“You, Sam. Just you. Who you are. The way you treat me.” She cupped his face. “You make me feel safe. And it’s keeping Yuri away.”

The realization hit him all at once. The weight of that tremendous responsibility. Someone so precious, so wary, trusting him that much.

What if he f*cked it up? Failed her?

He hid his face against the satiny coils of hair on the pillow and hung on, to her, to himself. His body hummed, like a power source that had switched on. He blazed with it, like a torch.

He’d keep making her feel safe if it killed him.





CHAPTER 21

They were quiet on the drive to Castellana Padulli, careful not to disrupt the truce they’d established. Sam had grumbled, but he’d gotten ready without a fight, thank God. She couldn’t face another one, though the make-up sex blew her mind. She crossed her legs, squeezing the hot glow. Her body’s constant, tingling animal awareness of him.

Her phone rang, not long after the first signs announcing the highway exit that would lead to Castellana Padulli.

“Who is it?” Sam asked when she hesitated, staring at the phone.

“It’s the same number from this morning,” she replied.

He shot her a blazing glance. “Don’t answer this time.”

She hit ‘talk.’ “Misha? Is that you?” she asked in Ukrainian.

In the silence, Sam cursed and pounded the steering wheel.

“I wish you would talk to me,” she said into the phone. “Maybe you’re afraid of being overheard. I understand. I know you’re in pain. I want to help. I’m here if you need me, Misha. Just call.”

The line clicked. The caller was gone. She let the phone drop.

Sam exploded. “What the f*ck makes you think that * is Misha? You’ve got ten different bad guys breathing down your throat right now! This is sloppy wishful thinking! Use your goddamn head!”

She stared at her lap, biting her lip. He was right, but the impulse had been so strong, she couldn’t reason it down. She shook her head.

“Babbling sweet nothings to a manipulative pervert is dangerous!” Sam raged. “Whoever it is, you’re encouraging him to jerk you around some more! If it’s Misha, he can find his balls and announce himself, like a normal person!”

“Normal? Misha?” She snorted. “That’s a lot to ask of him.”

“Don’t even start. I’m sick of your excuses for your damaged mafiya soul brothers.” He flipped on the turn signal for the exit ramp.

Castellana Padulli had a walled historic center on top of a steep hill, with cobblestoned streets. The centro storico was a traffic-restricted zone, so Sam parked in a garage, and they strolled up the road that wound around the hill and through the arched gate into the center.