Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(81)

She shook her wet mane back over her shoulders. His proud, gorgeous, wet, naked, intergalactic princess. She turned to face him.

"You do not own me," she said quietly.

He didn't remember deciding to move. He just found himself all over her, his hands moving over her damp, shivering skin. Pinning her against the wall. He cupped her face in his hands, opened his mouth, and the dangerous truth just fell right out of him, no holding it back.

"That's true. I don't own you. But I want you so bad. I've had a hard-on for you ever since you were jailbait. I want to know everything you do, every thought you mink. I want to have sex with you in every way possible. I'm obsessed with you, Erin Riggs, and I cannot stand the thought of you with another man. It makes me feel—"

… crazy

He swallowed the word back, his chest squeezing painfully. "I just want you all for myself." He closed his eyes. "Please."

Erin shivered, and dropped a soothing kiss on his bare shoulder. "Try to calm down, Connor," she murmured. "You're so intense."

"Oh, God, you have no idea." He pressed his face against her wet hair and tried to keep his mouth shut. Anything he said could be used to incriminate him. He had never felt so desperate and out of control. At least not as an adult.

The silence was driving him nuts. "How's that for going out on a limb?" His voice came out harsh and taunting in spite of his best efforts. "Did I make myself vulnerable enough to suit you?"

Her mouth tightened. She lifted her chin. "Don't mock me."

Enough talk. He would be smarter to use his tongue for something more constructive than digging holes for himself to fall into. She was so fragrant and soft and naked. He pushed her against the wall and sank to his knees. She tried to push his face away, but the element of surprise worked in his favor.

He slid his hand up the creamy skin between her quivering thighs, and forced them apart. She was saying something to him, but once he had slid his tongue into that thatch of silky wet fur, once he'd sought out the enticing secret slit of her vulva, he was long beyond the reach of language. He savored the liquid rush of her pleasure against his mouth, dizzy with relief. At least he had this card to play, and he would make the most of it. He thrust his tongue deep into that hidden pool of delicious liquid bliss and suckled his way slowly, lovingly up her delicate folds, lapping and licking until he held her swollen clit between his teeth. He could wallow with his face between her beautiful thighs forever. In a state of perfect grace.

He shifted his hand and slid two of his fingers inside her, seeking the other hot spot he had found inside her clinging sheath. He pressed it while he fluttered his tongue across her clit, feeling, sensing, listening with his whole self, casting out that wide, soft net in his head that encompassed her every reaction, her every breath and shiver and moan, until he sensed how and where to give her what she needed. Just that extra, insistent push of sensual pressure, and ah. Yes.

Jesus, yes.

He held her up while it tore though her, a throbbing earthquake. He drank it all in, with his mouth and his tongue and his hands, loving every pulsing second of it. Her knees buckled. He gentry controlled her descent as she slid down against the paneling until her bottom hit the floor, his fingers still thrust deep. Eyes closed, face rosy pink, legs splayed wide, his hand still shoved deep inside her cunt.

She shivered, her eyes fluttering open. She looked down at his hand, up into his eyes. He covered her mouth with coaxing kisses. "You still haven't given me an answer," he said. "About being exclusive."

Her pink tongue flicked across her lips. She whimpered and squirmed as his fingers thrust inside her. "Not fair," she whispered.

"Whatever it takes." He kissed her again, caressing her quivering sex. "So? Are you my woman, or not?"

She seized his wrist and pulled his hand out of her body, clasping it tightly in hers. "Do not manipulate me," she said. "Just ask me."

"OK." He braced himself. "I'm asking."

She looked straight into his eyes. "I don't want anyone but you," she said. "I never have."

He was afraid to breathe. Their fingers were a damp, tight, clutching knot, like his heart. "That's good to know, sweetheart," he said cautiously. "Uh, does that mean we're exclusive?"

Her lips twitched at his insistence. "Yes."

"You're sure?" he demanded.

Her sweet smile widened. "What do I have to do to convince you?"

He felt ridiculous for needing so much reassurance. "Send me a singing telegram," he suggested.

He was rewarded by a helpless snort of laughter that was so cute, it made his heart twist. "You certainly know how to press your point."

"I thought it was your points I was pressing," he offered.

That touched off another peal of giggles. "Oh, no. Oh, dear. Connor, please. That was really bad."

"But you handed it right to me," he protested. "What could I do?"

He pulled her closer. He felt so nervous and scared. This was how he wanted her, happy and laughing. Soft and trusting in his arms. He wasn't going to achieve that by throwing his weight around, spewing ironclad orders and ultimatums right and left, but whenever he felt threatened, that's what he did. Every goddamn time.

He pulled her tighter, so her soft laughter would vibrate through his body and push the aching cold away.