Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(94)

“I told you that I would,” he said, and when he passed by her she couldn’t help but breathe in the scent of man and aftershave. She’d always found his scent so intoxicating. “I wasn’t sure if your uncle had talked you into going home with him, to the Connelly estate.”

“He tried, but I wanted to come here. To wait for you.”

She closed the door and locked it, trying not to feel a little disappointed. Why had she hoped that the first thing he would do when he saw her was pull her into his arms? Was it because she so desperately needed to be held in his strong embrace? “I was about to make a pot of coffee. Want some?”

“Yes. On the way over here I got a call from Detective Ingram. They got a positive ID on the assassin. He’s someone who’s been wanted by both the FBI and CIA for some time. With him and Erickson dead, maybe things will get back to normal around here.”

Margo figured Roland must have called Striker just as he’d called her and Uncle Frazier about Erickson’s death. “Let’s hope so.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there staring at her. “We need to talk, Margo.”

She preferred not talking. She wished he would just pull her into his arms and hold her for a minute. Then he could take her to bed, make love to her and help her forget about everything that had happened tonight. Besides, what did they need to talk about? From his too-serious expression, she had a feeling it would be a topic she’d rather not discuss but knew they would anyway. Besides, she needed to know what he was thinking.

“Alright, let’s talk. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?” She led the way and he followed. They had made it halfway there when he reached out and took her hand, entwining their fingers. The moment he did, that all-familiar surge of desire swept over her.

She stopped walking, turned to him and didn’t bother to ask what he wanted. Instead she just leaned close and lifted her mouth for his. She heard the low growl from his throat as his mouth lowered to hers. And then there it was. The wet-tongue, greedy-as-sin contact she wanted, needed and desired. The hunger she detected in his kiss was making her head spin. It definitely had her moaning.

Then just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended and he stared down at her. Was that anger she saw in his eyes? If so, why? Why was he upset that they had kissed?

“Go ahead and make the coffee so we can talk, Margo.”

Nodding, she turned to continue on to the kitchen. Once there she prepared the coffee, fully aware he had sat down at the table and was quietly watching her. She’d discovered that Striker wasn’t a talker per se. He was a man of action, and for him, action spoke a lot louder than words. But those times when he did talk, she would listen.

With the coffee brewing, she reached up into the cabinet to grab a couple of cups. When she turned back around, he was standing in front of her. Close. His body pressed hers against the counter. “Why do you have to be so sexy? So damn desirable?” he asked, and the question seemed to come out in a tortured groan.

She looked up at him. “I could ask you the same thing.” Whether he knew it or not, sexy and desirable could be his middle names.

And then he was kissing her again, this time with even more hunger than the last. It was as if he had to convince himself that she was really here. Alive. And the fire hadn’t harmed her in any way. For her it was very much the same thing. But it wasn’t just that assurance driving her. For her there was also love.

Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted in strong arms and carried from the kitchen while their tongues continued to duel and tangle. When she felt herself being placed on the sofa, she was glad he didn’t try taking her upstairs. She didn’t want them to waste that much time. For some reason, the sofa seemed fitting since the first time they’d made love had been here.

She wasn’t sure how Striker removed her clothes so fast. All she knew was that he did with an expertise that nearly overwhelmed her. She watched through a haze of desire as he undressed himself. She could tell from the penetrating look in his gaze that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. They would talk later. Evidently whatever he wanted to discuss could wait.

When he had removed every stitch of his clothing, she grimaced to see his bandaged shoulder and recalled how he’d gotten the injury. Forcing those ugly thoughts to the back of her mind, she decided to concentrate on something else. Like how muscular his broad shoulders were and the thick firmness of his thighs. But what really got her attention was the massive erection that showed just how much he wanted her.

As usual, the air surrounding them was filled with so many sexual undercurrents, to the point that she could feel her nipples hardening and the area between her legs get excruciatingly wet. He joined her on the sofa, straddling her body and giving her a kiss that actually curled her toes.

She loved Striker’s kisses. The depth of them always managed to set her on fire. Make her hotter than she thought possible. At the same time, they managed to make every cell in her body feel rejuvenated. She heard herself groan as his kiss, slow and steady, suddenly took a turn to become deep and intense.

He broke off the kiss, leaving her disoriented and more in a daze, while fighting to pull air into her lungs. She lay there, stretched out beneath him and staring up into the dark, penetrating eyes staring back at her. He began placing feathery kisses on her face, starting on her forehead and slowly, methodically moving downward. When his mouth reached her breasts, his tongue latched on to a nipple and began teasing it with his tongue, nibbling sensuously with his teeth, nearly driving her over the edge only to snatch her back before she could fall.