His eyes narrowed in thought. “It took more than trace amounts to stop Alex’s Change last month. It almost killed him in the process.”
“Yes, but we aren’t going to shoot anyone, and we won’t have the complications of trauma and blood loss. Plus, trace amounts combined with the other chemicals we’re using just might do the trick. I have to run tests. Lots of tests.” She slammed her hands on her hips. “I want my lab back, damn it.”
He jerked upright, his fingers fisting at his sides. “Too bad. If you think for even a second you’re taking a field trip over to Seattle, you’re out of your mind.”
She huffed out a breath, and her elation dimmed. “Please. I’m not an idiot, despite what you may think.”
“I never said you were an idiot.” He sighed, his hands unknotting.
“We did our best in a bad situation, Merek. I know you’re not comfortable being this close to Seattle, and neither am I, but you were unavailable for consultation at the time.” The ghastly pale expression on his face from that morning flashed through her mind. “I’m sorry if you don’t like this, but we couldn’t stay where we were, and I made an executive decision.”
“I know. I know you did your best, and I appreciate your hauling my unconscious ass along for the ride.” He shook his head. “I’m not happy with this situation, but that means I’m worried for you, not angry at you.”
“Thank you for making that distinction. And you’re welcome. You would have done the same.” But he still hadn’t addressed how she’d spilled out her love all over him and he’d looked at her like she’d sprouted horns and a forked tail.
He met her gaze, and she knew his thinking had followed the same path as hers. “Are you angry at me?”
“No.” Not angry, hurt. She swallowed and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. “I’m not mad.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
The question sent a pang through her, and self-preservation warred with need. “No.”
“Good.” His breath eased out. “There are some . . . things we don’t agree on, but I don’t want to fight.”
Things. Like whether she could or should love him. Like whether they should have come to this island. Yeah. There were some things they didn’t see eye to eye on. It was unlikely they’d come to an accord on either issue.
“I don’t want to fight either.” She offered him a wavering smile. “I just solved years worth of research. I think. We should celebrate.”
“Celebrate.” A naughty smiled flashed, the only warning she had before his hand shot out, snapped around her wrist in an iron grip, and jerked her facedown across his lap.
A squeak erupted from her, and her breath rushed out of her lungs as she hit the hard muscles of his thighs. Her hands bunched in the bedspread, her nose a bare inch from the soft fabric. “Merek!”
“What?” His voice was a silken purr. He stroked his fingers up the back of her calf, making her shiver. Excitement whipped through her, and her nipples went rock hard in moments. “This isn’t the kind of celebration you had in mind?”
Her short laugh was incredulous. “You want to give me a celebratory spanking?”
Cool air rushed over her thighs as he drew her nightgown up and tossed it over her head. Her breath heaved in little pants, anticipation twisting within her as he cupped her buttocks in his palm. “Can you think of a better way to commemorate the occasion?”
She couldn’t.
His fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties and began working them down her legs. “Let’s get rid of these.”
A slow whimper trickled from her lips, and she arched her hips to help him ease the lace off of her. Shrugging, she let her nightgown fall forward off her arms and onto the floor, leaving her naked. Her tongue twisted into knots, and she could do little more than moan when his callused fingers caressed the bare globes of her backside.
“You have the sweetest little ass,” he growled.
“Oh, gods, Merek. I don’t know if—”
A sharp swat cut her off. “Too late to run, remember sweetheart?” He stroked her stinging flesh. She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the bedspread. Far too late to run. From herself, from him, from how she felt about him. She shuddered, and he smacked her backside harder.
“Merek, I—”
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.” He cupped both throbbing cheeks, then dipped between them to find the hot, slippery center of her. Her pussy flexed around his fingers when he penetrated her.
She panted, lifting her hips into the rough stroking of his fingers. Her mind whirled, and she scrambled to keep hold of her wits.
“Chloe—”
“Don’t stop!” She grabbed the leg of his jeans when he moved as if to set her aside. Everything in her rebelled at his withdrawing now. She didn’t think she could handle being left alone. Her feelings were too raw and tumbled, from agony to elation to lust and back to agony. “Don’t stop. We’re celebrating.”
“Yes, we are.”
She smiled against the bedspread when she felt his fingers slide over her backside again. His cock was an iron bar against her hip, so she knew that no matter how jumbled his own emotions were, he did want her. It was enough. It had to be. Even if it hurt that she knew he might not be capable of giving her more. She understood why he might not want her to love him. His lost family would make him just as wary of love, of needing anyone, as she had always been. But it was too late to save herself. It had been from the very beginning, whether she’d admitted it or not. So, she’d take what she could get for as long as she could get it. She pressed herself into his stroking hand, raising her ass to fit against his palm.
His hand lifted away from her skin, came back down in a light pat that made her whimper in frustration. That wasn’t what she wanted. She needed the intensity that would burn away everything else. The love, the anguish. All of it. She undulated on his lap, sighing when he slapped her left cheek, then her right. Hard. Harder.
Desire slammed into her, no slow building tide, but a crashing wave that dragged her under and drowned her. Wetness coated the lips of her pussy, and her inner walls contracted. Quicker, sharper swats, randomly spread over her ass, her upper thighs. Her flesh swelled, stung, burned. She cried out when he stopped, moaned when he thrust his hand between her legs. He flicked her clit, and she jolted, let out a broken groan. Filling her sex with three thick fingers, he worked her slowly, but it wasn’t enough. She bowed her back, pushing them both faster.
“None of that, sweetheart,” he scolded. And he took his hand away from her needy pussy and brought it down hard on her ass. The crack of flesh on flesh aroused her. Only with Merek would she want this; only with Merek could she surrender everything.
Each sharp spank reverberated through her entire body, made her sex clench, made her wetter. She was so close. He wasn’t even inside her, and she was going to come for him. When he paused again to tease her clit and fuck her pussy with his fingers, she shattered. Fiery heat and icy tingles sluiced over her flesh as her sex spasmed again and again. He smacked her ass, building her need until she crested once more, bucked helplessly against his hand.
Her heart pounded, made the blood roar in her ears. She turned her head to look up at him and meet his beautiful eyes. His face was tight with lust, red staining his high cheekbones. His chest heaved with each breath as he stared down at her.
“Make love with me, Merek.” A low sob ripped from her when he cupped her aching backside. “Let’s forget everything. Just for the night. Please, Merek. I want you.” A tear slipped free when she heard his defeated groan.
Ignoring the voices in her head that whispered this might, in fact, be her last night with him, she turned herself over to his pleasure. Whatever tomorrow brought, she intended to enjoy these final hours with him.
For the first time in her life, she wished the night would never end.
Forget? Merek wanted to forget everything, just as she’d said. Forget he’d failed to defend
himself well enough and they’d had to drag him to safety. Forget that he’d woken to find they were a stone’s throw away from danger. Forget he couldn’t keep her forever. Forget that she loved him.
He clamped down on that thought so fast, it made his own head spin. No. Not again. Never again. He knew that road only led to a dead end. Her dead end. He couldn’t live with that. Never again. This was temporary. He’d always known that, and her love changed nothing. In fact, it only made it more necessary to walk away from her. Soon. An instinct that wasn’t clairvoyance told him it would all be over soon. How and why and exactly when was beyond his abilities.
More than ever before, he hated his own weakness and how it kept him from protecting her.
He closed his eyes when her fingers brushed his leg, wrenching him back to the present, to the grinding needs of his body. His cock throbbed, so stiff with his lust, he shook. She lay nude, draped across his lap, her pale skin flushed from his spanking, cream slicking her thighs from where she’d come for him.
“Merek,” she whispered, and he broke.
Hauling her upright, he pulled her astride his thighs. He shoved his hand into her hair, held her still for his kiss. This time, this once, he had to have all of her, had to give her everything. No holding back, no pretending this dance wouldn’t end. She melted against him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He groaned and locked his arms around her, so she was plastered against him. Gods, the feel of her was unbearable it was so perfect.
Her fingers slid under his shirt, pulling it over his head, and he shuddered, loving her hands on him. Her touch fulfilled needs he wasn’t even willing to admit he had. He just wanted her, wanted more. He slid one hand down to cup the soft, smooth curve of her ass and pull her tighter to him. She moaned and twisted in his arms, rubbing her nipples over his chest, her movement driving him crazy.
He used his grip on the silken strands of her hair to pull her head back so he could bite his way down her slim throat. The taste of her, the feminine smell of her, sank hooks of need inside him. She arched her body into him, her legs wrapping around his hips as she tried to ride his dick through his pants. He forced her back into a deeper bend so he could suck her little nipples into his mouth one at a time. He drew hard on the tight crests, batting them with his tongue, shoving them against the roof of his mouth.
A choked cry spilled from her throat, and the musky scent of her arousal intensified. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on his back, and he could feel the heat and magic gather inside her. “No spells, sweetheart. Not here. Not tonight. No spells.”
“Merek, I need you.” Her voice was whisper-soft, but he heard it anyway. “No spells. Just you.”
She didn’t say she loved him again, and he told himself it was for the best, that he didn’t want to hear the words. Even as he recognized the lie, he forced himself to set her away from him, and caught her elbow when she staggered, her eyes glazed and her expression dazed with lust. It made his cock ache to be buried inside her.
“Yes. Now.” He stripped out of his boxers, pants and boots, left them in a tangled heap on the floor. He reached for her, and she met him halfway, pressing herself against his chest and rising on tiptoe to kiss him.
Having her in his embrace made some white-hot emotion expand in his chest until he couldn’t breathe. He crushed that, wrestling it into the deepest, darkest corner of his soul where he wouldn’t have to acknowledge it. Instead, he focused on the physical, on Chloe, on his woman in his arms. A groan rumbled in his chest. He slid his hands down her back, palmed the hot globes of her ass, and smiled against her mouth when she whimpered and wriggled.
The satin skin of her belly rubbed over his cock, and he choked. He backed her up until she hit the bed, smoothly rolling them onto the mattress. She hissed when her buttocks slid against the sheets, and some dark, possessive part of himself liked that she could feel his mark on her, that she’d be wearing it for a while since she wasn’t allowed to use a healing spell on herself. Every time she moved, sat, lay in bed, she’d be reminded of him. Oh, yes. He liked that a lot.
Shifting them onto their sides, he pulled her close, looped her thigh over his. “Is this all right? Not too painful?”
“Good. Perfect. Yes.” She wound her fingers through his hair, tugging him close for a kiss. Her tongue twined with his, and he cherished the moment with her. A moment that was slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so right. Before Chloe . . . years. Maybe never.
He held her tighter, every inch of her welded to his front. Yes. He wanted that. The head of his cock brushed her wet core, and she jolted forward, tilting her hips in offering. He wanted to wait, to draw this time out as long as possible, but he couldn’t. He needed her too much. A quick thrust, and he was hilted inside her, squeezed tight by her heated channel.
Closing his eyes, he had to grit his teeth to keep from coming then and there. Only Chloe could shred his control like this, and the emotional knot within him twisted at the knowledge that far too soon there would be nothing and no one that could do this to him. Just as he’d always preferred it. He blew out a harsh breath, ran his hands over every part of her he could reach, as if he could burn the feel of her into his mind, as if the memory could sustain him.
Somehow, she understood, touched him everywhere, kissed him deeper, gave him exactly what he needed. Everything. They rocked together slowly, savored each other. Sweat sealed their bodies, and their breathing grew ragged between kisses, as her breasts slid against his chest, and his pelvis rubbed over her clitoris. The fire that built within him wanted to rage out of control, but he couldn’t let this end. Not now. Not yet.
Not yet.
Her sex began to clench around his cock every time he entered her, and he held on to his restraint by the tips of his fingers. The little cries and moans that spilled from her lips told him just how close she was to coming for him. She writhed against him like a cat in heat. Orgasm fisted in his belly, shudders racking his body. His groan was as helpless and hopeless as he felt. Too soon. Too soon to let go. Too soon to lose her.
“Merek,” she sobbed, ripping her mouth from his. She arched hard, the muscles in her thighs tensing as she impaled herself on his cock, took him deep, deeper than before.
The way her pussy milked him made his thoughts scatter, made orgasm inevitable. He pounded inside her, let her drag him into the abyss. Come spurted from him, filled her tight channel, and still he held himself deep, unwilling to lose this connection with her.
They shivered together, arms wrapped around each other, aftershocks quaking through both of them. She buried her face in his chest, and he could feel the wetness of her tears. His emotions gave another vicious wrench, but he ignored them, refused to accept them. Later. Later, he would deal with his own feelings.
Now was for Chloe.
He cradled her close, stroking back her damp hair. “Shh. Don’t cry, sweetheart. Shh. Don’t cry.”
She kissed him fiercely in response, demanding without words that he make her forget. Everything. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, and his cock went rock hard, thrusting into her pussy.
And he held her tight, pushed away reality, made love with her again and again and again. Just for the night. Just as she’d asked.
It was all he had to give her.
13
“Chloe!”
Windows exploded in the living room, and the choked cough of silenced gunfire reported just before the shrill squeal of a woman in pain.
“Chloe!”
She bolted upright, her name coming at her from too many directions. Merek’s bellow beside her as he flipped her off the bed and onto the floor, covering her with his heavy body. Alex’s mental shout from upstairs she didn’t have the ability to answer. The cry from the living room had been in a woman’s voice. “Tess?”
More gunfire, more shattering glass and breaking wood. “Are you here, Chloe?”
“Merek, that’s Tess.” She wheezed out a breath wh
ile he crushed her into the carpet. The glint of light off the dull black metal of his pistol made her swallow. It was too much like the last time, when Alex was shot. She pressed her forehead to the floor, regret lancing through her. “I’m sorry, Merek. You were right. We should never have come here.”
He grunted, stuffing the revolver into her hand. Then he jerked on his shirt, grabbed his pants, and rolled to shove himself into them. “There was no way to have known for sure, sweetheart. Stay here, stay down. I’m going to see what kind of mess we’re in.”
“Broken glass. Put on your boots.” He did, and she clutched the revolver closer, scooting to put her back into a corner behind the bed and away from the windows. “Alex. Make sure Alex—”
“I will.” He nodded a quick approval when he saw where she’d moved.
Resisting the urge to shove him to the floor and protect him, she returned his nod. “Be careful.”
“I will,” he repeated. Then he disappeared, leading with his pistol out into the hallway.
Gods, she was naked. All she had was a revolver. She shoved down on a hysterical giggle, sucked in a breath, and dredged up the magic inside her. Too late to pretend there were no Magickals here, right? She fought down another laugh.
“Clothes,” she ordered in a low voice. She closed her eyes tight, heard a rush of air, felt a hint of heat from the spell, and when she looked down again, she was dressed. Shoes to shirt, fully dressed. That was a first, but she didn’t have time to wonder about it.
Her heart hammered in her chest, and she tried to slow it, tried to control her breathing so she could hear anything that was going on outside the bedroom. Who was here besides Tess? How many of them were there? Where was Alex? Where was Merek? She didn’t know, could only sense people moving around her, perceive the faintest creaks of floorboards as they ghosted along. A huge thump sounded against the wall, and her night-light flickered wildly beside her, but its glow was soon dimmed by the streaks of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains.
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