In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(92)

The fantasy shattered. He tried to exhale his frustration, but it filled right back up again. “What a surprise,” he muttered.

Sveti rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. “Try to understand,” she pleaded. “I need to find Sasha. He’s in trouble, and I want to talk to him, and hold his hand. Before something horrible happens to him, too.” Her voice began to wobble. “Something horrible always happens.” She shot him a wet-eyed, blazing glance. “Not you, Sam. Don’t you dare let anything happen to you! Understand?”

“Perfectly,” he said. “I’m tough. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not leaving until I see my friend. And my mother’s grave.”

Sam swallowed his reply. If she wanted to bring out the big guns, there was nothing to do but shut the f*ck up and be good.

They drove back to the hotel in silence. Once in their suite, he shed the tux and pulled on sweatpants, without turning on the lights. Moonlight streamed through the windows, shining on the sea, lighting up the swirling patterns of mosaic tile. He sat on the bed and waited while she did her interminable girl stuff in the bathroom.

The door finally opened. Light spilled in. Sveti was silhouetted in the door, just long enough for him to get slammed by the heart-stopping effect of her body in the brief nightgown of cream silk. The swell of her breasts tented it out, the jut of her nipples barely denting the fine fabric. Lots of smooth, perfect leg extended below the lacy trim.

Then she turned the light off and stepped into the room. She paused until her eyes adjusted. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he didn’t need to. He felt her breath. Was tuned to the frequency of her every cell.

She moved across the geometrical blocks of moonlight that slanted across the floor, glowing like a ghostly angel. She wafted through shadow, then through light, then shadow, then light again. He stopped breathing when she was about ten feet away, but jarred his lungs back into movement by sheer force, so that he could smell her.

That sweet cloud of warmth and mystery, moving inexorably toward him. So momentous, so desirable. So f*cking dangerous.

She stopped, close enough to him to touch. “I’m sorry, to be such a big problem for you,” she said.

He grunted. “Not sorry enough,” he muttered. “Don’t sweat it. I’m not a victim. I volunteered for this crazy shit. I could leave at any time.”

“But you don’t. Because you’re a good guy.” She laid her hand on his chest. Right over the bullet scar.

He stifled the bark of laughter. No, I don’t go because you finally let me touch you. Nah, that wouldn’t fly. He’d score more points letting her think he was a righteous dude rather than a sex-crazed lug with hormonal brain melt. He seized the hand that lay on his chest, kissed it, and rubbed it against his cheek. He’d shaved, for the sake of the gala, but he already had a bristly rasp on his cheek mere hours later.

“I couldn’t have gotten through that speech if you hadn’t been there,” she said. “The state I was in, after meeting the conte. I was a mess. You held me together.”

He kissed her hand again. “I’m glad if I helped, but it was all you,” he said. “You rocked it. You were amazing.”

She laughed, bitterly. “Yeah, people love it when you rip out your heart and throw it to them as a blood offering.”

He laid his hand over her heart, fingers splayed over the thin silk. The steady throb of her heart pulsed against his palm. “It’s still going strong in there,” he said. “Plenty of heart. You could fling it to the hungry masses all day long and never use it up. The more you throw, the more you’ll have. It’s as big as the sky. If you trust it. Just . . . trust it.” He kissed her hand again. “Please, Sveti.”

Moonlight glinted on a tear that flashed down her cheek and dropped on her breast, blistering the flawless satin.

Christ, he never learned. He just kept hammering at her.

“Sam,” she whispered. “Just take this for what it is. Don’t ask it to be something else, something more. Because I just . . . I can’t.”

“Why not ask for more?” he asked. “You’re brave, talented, brilliant. You’ve done amazing things. You could learn this. To be with me, to trust me. To let me love you. A person can learn anything.”

She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, and his glands went nuts. His dick tingled.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his hair. “For standing by me.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “You know damn well that I’d give up body parts for the privilege.”

“You made me strong tonight,” she whispered.

He grunted. That was problematic, since he didn’t approve of her presence here, and didn’t want to sustain it. But he didn’t want to kill this moment, either. She could dismantle his defenses with a hug and a few smooth, artless moves. Sit that juicy little thing down on his hard-on, press those soft, scented tits against his face, and he’d fall right into line. She said jump, he’d say, sure, babe, over what cliff?

But the tough pep talk didn’t slow him down. His body was miles ahead of it, kissing her ravenously. Her cheeks and lips were wet. His tongue slid into her mouth. She shivered in surrender, opening to him.

She pulled away and swept aside the bed canopy. She slid off his lap and clambered onto the bed on hands and knees. With a view like that to precede him, he followed as if dragged by a harness into the mysterious inner sanctum of the tented bed.