Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(62)

He tossed her onto the bed, landed promptly on top of her soft, hot, squirming body. "It's not that simple," he growled. "You can afford to lose control. I can't."

She shoved at his chest. "Why not?"

"Because I'm bigger and stronger, that's why. I don't know what you're complaining about. You trick me into losing control almost every time we do it. It freaks me out. I'm supposed to protect you."

She heaved furiously beneath him. "I'm not made out of glass!"

"Thank God." He shoved her into position: flat on her back, legs folded up high, open and drenched and ready for him. "Are you sore?"

"I'm all right," she snapped.

"I didn't ask if you were all right." He enunciated each word with exaggerated clarity. "I asked if you were sore."

"Yes, I am, but I don't care! So don't stop, or I'll have to kill you!"

He couldn't help but grin. "I'll be gentle," he said. He guided his cock to her and slid it over her labia. "Tell me if I hurt you."

"What if I don't want gentle?" she demanded. "Stop being so goddamned anxious! You're driving me nuts!"

That made him laugh out loud. "Oh, God, I love it when you're a heartless, insatiable bitch."

He thrust inside her, hard as he dared. She was wet and hot for him, but she was delicate and small, and he was a big man. She could snap at him all she wanted, but he wasn't going to risk hurting her.

This tart-sweet furious sex kitten persona of hers made him burn with lust. He kept veering back and forth between the screaming berserker who wanted to f*ck her brains out, and a shaking tenderness that made him want to cry.

God forbid. That would be all he needed.

He pulled out, gasping as her sheath clutched and hugged him, and thrust even deeper, seeking a gentle, surging rhythm. It was so good. He could do this all day, all night. For the rest of his life.

Erin smiled her fey, mysterious smile and brushing her tingling hot magic fingers over the surface of his throat, his chest, his shoulders. "Let go, Connor," she pleaded. "I love it when you go wild."

She could make him do anything when she looked at him like that. Her eyes glowed like the sun shone behind them and lit them up like stained glass: glowing amber, honey-streaked sunset warmth. Her plump breasts were crushed against his chest, her quivering thighs were clenched around him. She gasped with pleasure with each heavy, gliding stroke. She was working up to another explosion. He could feel it build, and he knew just how to give her what she was whimpering for. He knew it in his bones, in his blood.

It came to him, out of nowhere. He pulled back, held himself motionless above her. "I'm not leaving you alone with Mueller," he said.

She started to protest, but he trapped her face between his two hands and kissed her deeply. "That's the deal. I give you what you want, you stop fighting me. Nod if we understand each other."

She shook her head. "This isn't fair. You can't manipulate—"

"Oh, yes, I can. And I will," he promised. "I will."

She glared up into his eyes, clutching at him in helpless frustration. He rocked against her with soft, licking, maddening thrusts with just the head of his cock when he knew damn well she wanted it deep and hard. His thumb barely tickled over the slick, quivering bud of her clit. Teasing and tantalizing. No mercy.

She threw her head back and cried out through clenched teeth, clawing at his shoulders. "Goddamn it, Connor—"

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, just do it! Now!"

He let go, and sealed the bargain with his body. He gave her everything he had, everything he was. It went further than he had planned, further than he'd ever dreamed. It carried them away.

Passion fused them together. All the truths of their hearts were known to each other. Nothing could be hidden, nothing held back. No boundaries, no borders. One being.

They writhed together in the heart of a burning star.

Sometime later, he rolled off her and flopped onto his back. He was chilled by the sweat cooling on his skin. That had been way out there. He was almost afraid to meet her eyes.

"Wow," she whispered. "You don't do things halfway, do you?"

"Never. In my whole life," he said. "Better get used to it."

They subsided into shy silence. Not a word about Mueller. Not a word about that weird, coercive bargain he had struck with her. And certainly no discussion of… of that. Whatever the hell it had been. Souls touching. Yikes. Sounded like New Age bullshit. Better not to even touch it with words. It was made out of emotion and energy. Only the wisdom of their joined bodies could comprehend it.

Erin climbed out of bed. She kept her face turned from him. "I have to get ready," she said hesitantly. "I'll just jump into the shower."

They both needed a time-out, so he waited his turn, and showered after she was done. When he came out, Erin was busy making the second bed. The first one was mathematically smooth and perfect.

He stared at her, bemused. "Why are you doing that?"

"I can't think straight if the bed's not made." Her voice was snippy and defensive. "And I need the space to organize myself. Here, use my comb, and be nice to your hair, please. No ripping or tearing."