In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(45)

His face was strained and taut, jaw clenched. He clutched her upper arms in a grip just short of bruising. His hips slid up, jolting into her from below, each slick stroke caressing her inside.

It stung, a little, but she was already swept into the huge surge of a shining crescendo that could not be delayed or denied.

It tore through her. Took her apart.

When her eyes fluttered open, she was sprawled limply on top of him. The look on his face squeezed her heart.

She slid off him. He shifted onto his elbow and looked beneath himself. “I think my bandage got detached. Aw, shit. The sheets.”

She leaped up. “Oh, my God, Sam!”

The sheet was spotted with blood. The gauze that had been taped over his hip had ripped loose, revealing the bloody bullet graze.

She gasped. “I’m so sorry! I forgot all about your wound!”

“It was worth it,” he assured her. “I didn’t even feel it, swear to God. Those sex endorphins are some serious shit.”

“Come on. Tam puts first-aid stuff in the bathroom cabinets.”

She herded him into the bathroom. He perched on the tub while she made a fuss over his wound, dabbing with antibiotic ointment and cotton until it was decently taped up again. Torn loose by wild sex under the greedy, selfish harpy girl. She horrified herself.

“Does it still hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“What guy wouldn’t be okay with your tits bouncing six inches from his nose?” he asked. “Come here, let me just . . .”

“No!” She batted his hand down and put the first-aid stuff away, then hurried to strip the sheets and the mattress cover, also stained.

She dragged them into the bathroom and set herself to scrubbing the marks under cold water with a handful of liquid soap.

Sam watched quietly. “We’re hard on bed linens,” he commented. “We’ve ruined two sets less than twenty-four hours into our affair.”

She laughed silently, dumped the sodden, foamy sheet on the floor, and got to work on the mattress cover.

“I’ll replace them,” he told her gently. “Don’t sweat it.”

“That’s wasteful,” she said. “And it’s not the issue.”

“I know the issue,” Sam said glumly. “It’s that Tam Steele hates my guts, and my bodily fluids along with them. This will gross her out.”

“She can’t say a thing!” Sveti snapped. “You were a goddamn hero! You got that wound in my service! From a f*cking bullet!”

“And leaked blood all over her sheets while being lustfully ridden by a beautiful nymph with bouncing tits,” he said dreamily. “That salacious detail might cost me my manhood. Being in your service is dangerous, but it has some kickass perks.”

She snorted in derision, but Sam’s face had gone suddenly somber. “In your service,” he repeated. “I like how that sounds, Sveti.”

Her body tensed. The words sounded formal, antique, and archaic. Something from an epic poem, or a fairy tale. “I’m sorry,” she said. “About, uh, saying . . . my service. I didn’t mean—”

“I did,” he said. “It’s okay. I like it.”

“But I . . . but you . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Sam seized her wet hand, gazing intently into her eyes. “Your service,” he repeated softly. “That’s exactly where I want to be.”

She started shaking. The moment felt fraught with mysterious significance. Something solemn and irreversible was happening. Wonderful and terrifying. And dangerous. “Sam,” she said. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Sam kissed her knuckles, stroked them against his cheek. He sank down to his knees, looked up at her. “Accept it.”

She was caught in the hypnotic thrall of his gaze, a heartbeat away from saying yes, of course, anything he wanted, anything in the world. But the familiar drum roll of impending doom froze her in place.

“Accept, ah . . . what?” she faltered.

He kissed her hand again. “My service,” he said. “I get that you don’t want my love. How about my service? Does that go down easier?”

“I . . . I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

“Sure you do.” His voice was implacable. “It’s never been so clear. I’ll serve you. Protect you, make love to you. Kill for you. Because I can. Because I choose to. Let that be the vibe. Would it work for you?”

The shaking inside her got worse. She was so afraid of hurting him, failing him. He was skating so close to that gaping abyss, and she had to herd him away from it, quick. Before he fell in and was lost.

“This is too much. It’s making me nervous.” Her voice was tight with panic. “I can’t do this, Sam. I can’t play this game with you.”

“You think it’s a game?” He let go of her hand and stood. A graceful, pantherish movement. “Too much responsibility?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sure you do. Sveti the tough babe, who takes on the world all by herself. This is just about sex. Except when it’s about staying alive, but no worries, when the danger’s past, bada bing bada boom, it’s about sex again. Put me in my place. Don’t let me forget it.”