Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(95)

She couldn’t help noticing that one of his hands was moving lower down her body. When it got to the area between her thighs, she spread her legs open for him. She felt his finger inch inside of her and fought back a guttural moan when another finger touched her clit. Then as if he wanted to show her what a great multitasker he was—like she didn’t already know—he began fingering her at the same time his mouth on her breasts was driving her insane.

How was any man capable of giving a woman this much pleasure? Did he not know that he was almost killing her? Sending her mind spinning into one hell of a sexual frenzy? She figured that, even if he knew it, he really didn’t care. His intent was to strike while she was hot, and she was definitely on fire.

His mouth let go of her nipples, and he used his tongue to trace a path down her body, greedily lapping her skin all the way down. When he began nibbling around her belly button, she thought she would go up in smoke then and there. And when he inched down farther on the sofa, he pulled back. Sitting on his knees, he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

“Your shoulder,” she said, when one leg rested against the bandage.

“My shoulder is fine,” he told her. Then he lowered his mouth to her. His tongue went straight for her clit, and he used it in ways that had her moaning and twitching around on the sofa, lifting her hips as pleasure ripped through every part of her body.

Sexual sensations she would never get used to tore into her, gripping her in a sensual tailspin. Then she came, screaming his name at the top of her lungs as her body erupted in one hell of an explosion. He didn’t hold back. Instead he held tight to her hips, keeping his mouth firmly locked on her while lapping her up.

He finally drew back and lowered her legs before moving his body upward to take her mouth, sharing the taste with her. Moments later he released her mouth to ease between her spread legs. The head of his erection was massive and slick and her body was ready for him. He held her hips steady as he slid inside of her. Leaning up, he took her mouth again, and as he began thrusting in and out of her, she noted that his tongue maintained the same rhythm as his body’s thrust. All she could do was moan in pleasure. Over and over he brought her to the brink only to snatch her back with harder thrusts.

Suddenly her entire body splintered into a million pieces and she was propelled to sensuous oblivion. “Striker!”

She felt his body jerk hard once, then twice. When he called out her name, she knew he had joined her in what had to be the most intense sexual mating between them ever.

*

“YOU’RE QUIET, STRIKER.”

Striker glanced over at Margo as he eased back into his jeans. She was stretched out on the sofa, naked. It was taking all the control he could muster not to remove his clothes and take her again. But he couldn’t do that. Nor could he forget that his weakness for her was his downfall and he was here to deal with it in the only way he knew how. And that was by imposing distance between them.

Instead of addressing her comment, he made one of his own. “Put your clothes on, Margo, and meet me in the kitchen.”

She lifted a brow. “Okay.”

If his tone and abrupt manner surprised her, there was no help for it. Not now. What had just happened only reinforced his belief that Margo Connelly was more than a weakness. She’d become an obsession, and Striker Jennings didn’t do obsessions. It didn’t matter that he loved her. What mattered was that, for his peace of mind, he couldn’t risk losing another person he loved. And because of his own lack of focus, he’d nearly lost her already.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, he had poured both of them a cup of coffee and was sitting at the table waiting for her to join him. Casting him a curious glance, she sat down, took a sip and asked, “So, what do you want to talk about, Striker?”

Before answering, he studied her features. Those belonged to the woman he loved to distraction. And that was the problem. Distraction. His lack of focus had nearly gotten them killed.

He took a sip of his coffee. “I failed you.”

She lifted a brow. “And just how do you think you failed me?”

“I was hired by your uncle to protect you.”

“And you don’t think you did? Look at me, Striker. I’m sitting here, sipping coffee and breathing, because of you. You saved my life.”

He shook his head. “If I had been more focused, I could have foreseen the danger headed our way. I could have devised a plan to get you away from the cabin and—”

“No, you wouldn’t have foreseen anything. I’m sure you’ve been informed about the tracking substance. Moving me someplace else would not have mattered.”

“I could have set a trap for him and made sure you weren’t in any danger. I should have known my phone was blocked. The moment we got out of the shower I should have checked for calls. Hell, I shouldn’t have been in the shower with you in the first place. I literally screwed up. Botched things up to the fucking nth degree. You could have died because of me. And if you had died...”

“I didn’t die, Striker. I’m alive because of you. You risked your life saving me. That fire—”

“Should not have happened.”

“But it did, and I’m alive. Why can’t you accept that?”

Because he couldn’t, and it was time he made sure she understood why. “I failed before protecting people I loved, Margo. First Wade and then Mom. I should have been there for Wade. I was his big brother and I was supposed to watch over him while Mom worked nights. She depended on me to do that. Instead, because I didn’t want to miss any of my football practices, I encouraged Wade to go to that recreation center after school that had been established by cops. I thought it was a good way to make sure he didn’t get involved with any street gangs. After all, the cops were there all the time and they were the good guys, right?”