Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(61)

“I know. You’re right, my talent is getting stronger. And I’m not screaming in pain. You were able to shield me.” She was screaming in pain, he just couldn’t hear her. “I guess we’re both growing stronger.” She didn’t get as much control of her voice as she would have liked, but if she was lucky, he would put the tremor down to regaining her breath.

He pushed himself up and looked around for her clothes. His hands were unsteady as he caught up her shirt. “There’s something magical that happens when we’re together.”

It was the last thing she expected him to say. Her breath caught in her throat. Mack didn’t say things like that. He didn’t have an ounce of the poet in him. He was all warrior, slashing eyes, grim, tough face, sure of himself. She could only nod her head, her throat closing unexpectedly.

“Sit up, baby. We made enough noise down here to bring the cops, let alone all the boys. We need to get you dressed.”

She felt the color sweep up her neck. He meant she’d made a lot of noise. She couldn’t remember, but she might have begged him not to stop. Loud. Very loud. There might have been a scream or two punctuating the pleading. She wasn’t certain she was ready to face him.

“I know I’m not good at talking to you the way you want, Jaimie,” he continued, his voice low as he tugged the T-shirt over her head. “I’m not exactly a smooth talker like Lucas, but I mean what I say.”

He’d never said anything. Not once. He’d never told her he loved her. He said he wanted her a million times, showed her he wanted her a million ways. Mack was very demanding when it came to sex—generous and demanding. He was always absolutely certain of himself and his power over her. She avoided his gaze as she lifted her arms and allowed him to slide the material over her head.

“Jaimie? Aren’t you going to talk to me?” He paused in the act of tugging her shirt over her breasts. “What’s wrong?” There was a soft, ominous note in his voice.

Energy separating was rather like coming down off a huge adrenaline rush. Their bodies tingled and raw nerve endings sparked and jumped. His shaft jerked and pulsed. Her womb clenched and wept.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You can look me in the eye and tell me the next time you’re thinking of running, you’ll talk to me instead.”

“I did talk to you.”

“Well, you obviously didn’t get through.” He jerked her shirt down and stood up, casually zipping up his jeans. He’d always been comfortable naked, padding around their apartment without clothes whenever possible, and he looked just as comfortable now even though they’d nearly brought down the place and the men couldn’t have failed to hear.

He had to steady her when she stood up, swaying, her body weak. “What did you want me to do, Mack? Hit you over the head with a two-by-four?”

“Yes, damn it, if that’s what it takes. You don’t walk out on me, Jaimie.”

He kept his hand on her arm as she yanked up her soft drawstring pants. She was trembling. His palm slid up and down her bare skin as if to soothe her.

“I’m not the same person I was,” she said, but even as she uttered the words, she wondered if she was lying. She fought hard to stand on her own, but the entire time she’d been building a future with the idea that Kane and Mack might need somewhere to go when they retired. They had to retire sometime, didn’t they? Did any of them even have a future?

Mack framed her face. “Don’t look so sad, Jaimie. We’ll make it.”

She wanted to believe that, but she’d seen the evidence stacking up against them and it was enormous. The GhostWalkers had enemies in their own camp. “I’m not like you, Mack. You rush in where angels fear to tread. You really do. You think you can save the world.” She gestured toward the stairs. “Every single one of us—Javier, Kane, me, Rhianna—all of us were broken and you picked us up and fixed us. You’d charge hell with a bucket of water. Nothing scares you. Nothing at all. You just do it. Whatever is required. You get it done.”

“Being without you scares me,” he admitted in a low, reluctant voice. He kept his gaze fixed on her averted face. She was so elusive, just out of reach when they’d crawled into each other’s souls. How the hell had she slipped away again?

Her head jerked up and she looked at him. He could read her shock, but didn’t understand it. Hell. She’d ripped out his soul when she’d left. Her tongue touched her lower lip, drawing his attention to the sweet, sexy curve of it. He couldn’t resist and leaned forward to catch the silken bow between his teeth, tugging gently before he kissed her.

Jaimie blinked up at him, that baffled, dreamy look he found utterly sexy on her face. She touched her lips. “I don’t understand you, Mack. I asked you about our future and you said we didn’t have one. You weren’t ready for the old ball and chain.”

There was enough raw hurt in her voice to make him wince.

“And when we had sex I could feel your emotions.” Now her voice was strained, so low he had to lean into her to hear. “You were angry, but more importantly, you resent wanting to be with me. Resentment is powerful and it overshadows a lot of other things. There’s no mistaking it. It’s hard to understand our relationship when you’re so resentful.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never been one to want to need someone, Jaimie. How hard is that to understand? It’s damned hard admitting to myself let alone you that I can’t do without you. You’re like some f*cking addiction I can’t get rid of.”