Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(50)

That's not true, she wanted to cry out, but she was too overwhelmed by his body, penetrating and invading her. Her arms trembled with the strain, and her hair hung down like a dripping curtain before her eyes. He thrust into her again, and a blaze of startled heat kindled. She quivered, softened around him.

He made a low, approving sound and gripped her hips, pulsing and pressing himself against that hot spot deep inside, a font of sensation so new, her brain barely knew how to process it She pushed against him, seeking more, but he controlled the rhythm completely.

"See? It's not just for me," he said. "You get it now?"

She reached down to touch herself, but a single trembling arm wasn't strong or stable enough to brace her weight against the wall. She had to use both. He slid his own hand around her hips immediately, and found her clitoris with his fingertip, teasing it tenderly.

"I've got you," he said. "I'll take care of you, Erin."

Then he let himself go and took her deep and hard. She cried out and stumbled closer to the wall, bracing herself with her folded forearms. She gave in to it. Every deep, gliding thrust stoked that secret glow inside her, every seductive stroke was slicker, more liquid.

But Connor was angry with her, and she didn't know why. She felt the barely restrained violence with which he was using her body, and thought of how her father had betrayed him, abandoned him to die. The searing anger that must have caused. Rage that had no outlet.

Until now, a voice in her head whispered. She'd offered herself up on a silver platter. Here she was, naked and bent over for his pleasure.

He felt the fear and shame that clutched her, and stopped. He was shoved so deep inside her, she felt him pressing against her womb.

"Had enough, Erin? Want the mask back?"

"No, I don't want masks! That's not what I want at all, Connor—"

"Then what the f*ck do you want?" he panted.

I want you to love me. She stopped the words just in time. "I want to turn around," she said. "I need to see your face. Your eyes."

He pulled out and spun her around, pushing her back against the wall. He wasted no time in scooping her leg up to dangle it over his arm.

He drove inside her once again. Water pounded, steam billowed. Erin gasped for breath and hung onto his shoulders, just as she hung onto the piercing comprehension that had come to her when she had held his head at her breast. The pang of grief and empathy for a bereft, motherless little boy. The longing she ached to soothe.

That was the shining truth beneath all this push and shove. She was in love with him. She wanted all of him, every face, every side: the furious demon lover, the grieving child, the tender seducer, the gallant protector. She loved them all, and if surrendering could prove that to him, then surrender she would. She had no choice anyway; he ravished her senses, he flooded her body with wild heat. She melted around him in an endless, shivering climax that embraced everything he was: his body, his passion, his pain, his anger. She wanted it all.

He wrenched himself out of her with a shout, seizing her hand and wrapping her fingers around his shaft. He erupted. Jets of hot semen welled up and trickled over their interlocked fingers.

They sagged to their knees together in the ankle-deep water. After three tries, Connor finally managed to raise his arm high enough to push down the faucet knob. Silence, and then the hollow drip of the shower. They clung to each other, trembling.

Connor was the first to raise his head. He tried to smooth back the soaked hair that clung to her face. "Erin—"

"No," she said.

He frowned. "No, what?"

"No, you didn't hurt me, so stop worrying. It was fabulous."

He looked mystified. "How did you know what I was going to say?"

"Must've learned the mind-reading trick from you," she said, nuzzling his throat. '"You made me angry, but you didn't hurt me. You couldn't. You don't have it in you. You're too sweet."

He stared down at her, incredulous. "After what just happened here, you still think I'm sweet?"

She kissed the scar on his shoulder. "Oh, yes. You're lots of things, Connor McCloud. And one of them is very, very sweet."

Connor wiped the water off his face and reached for her. "You're nuts, Erin. You trust me more man I trust myself."

"It's scary to lose control," she murmured.

His arms tightened around her. "Tell me about it."

He reached for the shower gel and pulled her up onto her knees, sliding his soapy hand between her legs. She gasped and clutched his shoulders. She wasn't used to being touched at all, let alone this intimately, and his hands made free with her body, laving and rinsing, his fingers sliding tenderly into the folds of her sex. As if to tell her that she was all his, to touch and handle as he pleased.

Two could play that game. She soaped her hand and reached for his penis. He caught her wrist and stopped her.

"No more of your sex goddess tricks," he growled. "I have to chill out now. It's a physiological necessity."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "You're safe, at least for a little while. I need to rest, too."

The haunted look in his eyes gave way to a slow, appreciative smile. The water swirled around them, until the drain swallowed all the water. They were tangled together in an empty tub.