In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(21)

“So sweet,” he murmured against her throat. His tongue rasped tenderly up the tendon in her neck, licking her sweat as if it were some magic substance that he craved. “God, that was good.”

Then he cupped her breast again, and his arms slid around her, clasping her as he suckled her nipples again.

Sweet? Not sweet. It was total obliteration of self. But here she was, same old Sveti. Fears and problems and hang-ups fully intact.

“Ready to open up a little more?” His voice was low and careful, as if she were an easily spooked horse.

It embarrassed her to be so twitchy, which put the edge in her voice. “I have to, right? For this to work?”

His eyebrow tilted up. “I wasn’t the one who engineered the design of human sexuality,” he said. “It’s not my fault I’m the one with the dick, so don’t even try to make me feel guilty about it.”

Stellar. Perfect. Very smooth. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m just tense.”

“Hard to believe, after an orgasm like that.”

A lot of her life could be summed up like that. Hard to believe.

Sam scooped her into his arms and laid her gently in the middle of the bed. He reached to grab a string of condoms from the bedstand.

God. His body was shockingly beautiful. Muscular contours, sharp angles, and ridges of bone. His fierce, driving personality. So seductive, to have all that seething energy focused entirely upon her.

Of course, his fascination was just the product of his own fantasies, which he was projecting onto her. He didn’t really know her at all. When he did, he would run, without looking back.

So what? This was her chance. No mood-killing thoughts allowed.

Fortunately, she couldn’t really think a straight thought while touching him, mood-killing or otherwise.

He jerked her into a ravenous, breath-stealing kiss, cupping her face as if it were something precious and fragile, raining hot kisses down on her. It was that oncoming train, but not just her body. Everywhere. She was melting into his kisses and happy to be lost. He wasn’t grabbing or demanding. His lips just pleaded, softly, seductively, relentlessly, for her to soften for him. Open to him.

She did so, astonished. Opening like a flower to that sweet dance of lips and tongue, the sweet taste of him. She couldn’t resist.

Even though she sensed doom in the air, like snow on the wind.

He lifted his face. There was just enough flickering light to see the soft look of wonder in his eyes. It scared her to death. She waved it away. “Stop,” she said nervously. “Please. Don’t look at me that way.”

“I’m memorizing you like this,” he said. “This moment makes the cut for deathbed memories. So I have to pay attention.”

She flinched. “Don’t say that!”

“We’ve all got to die someday. Would you begrudge me the memory of your sweet kisses to comfort me in my final moments?”

“Don’t joke about that.” Her voice shook with intensity. “Don’t invoke death. It’s never far away. It doesn’t need to be invoked. It’s bad luck. So please, stop. Stop staring at me like you . . . like you’re . . .”

Like you’re in love with me.

That was it. The weight of impending doom snapped her nerve.

She scrambled off the bed. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I—oof!”

She was lifted, turned. She landed, disoriented and bouncing in the middle of the bed. Sam straddled her, legs and arms caging her in.

“You’re not bailing on me now,” he said.

She blinked up into his face. “Sam, I—”

“I don’t care.” His voice was savage. “You are seeing this through. No matter how long it takes us.”

“Don’t dictate to me!” She shoved at his chest.

He trapped her wrists in his big hand. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I won’t force you. But I won’t let you run, either. Not gonna happen.”

She bucked and squirmed. Something battered inside her chest, desperate to get out. Every move made her feel more frantic, in a frenzy of panicked excitement. He stared intently into her eyes.

“Is this what you need, to get through the wall?” he asked. “Do you need to fight me?”

That question was too dangerous and outrageous to answer, but the energy surged wildly inside her at his words, and he felt it. She thrashed and writhed, furiously. “Goddamnit, Sam! Let go!”

“No, just tell me,” he demanded. “And don’t be embarrassed. I’ll give you that, if that’s what works for you. But it’s not the kind of thing I want to get wrong, so be very clear. Is that what you want?”

One last convulsive heave of her entire body and she subsided, panting. She had barely jolted his bulk. “I don’t know,” she snapped.

His eyes slitted. “Figure it out fast. The choice is about to be taken out of your hands. I’m counting down from five. Say ‘stop’ if you don’t want this to happen. Okay? Five. Four. Three. Two—”

“You son of a bitch!”

“If that’s what you need me to be,” he said evenly. “One. Time’s up. Fight as much as you want. It’s my call now.”

She exploded into frantic movement again, but he countered every move she made, gazing intently to monitor her reaction.