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Crying, shuddering, her body was so tight, so racked by sensation and heat, that Lyrica felt a sob tearing from her rather than the groan she expected. She felt abraded from the inside out by the emotions rushing through her, mixing with her pleasure, excitement, adrenaline.
She was flying through space and time and nothing, no one, existed outside this moment, this man, and the pleasure he’d dragged her into.
—
Dressed, the dried sweat washed from his flesh, Graham sat in the easy chair next to the bed and stared at Lyrica as she slept, barely a half hour later. She’d collapsed into the chair as he’d pulled from her mouth, leaning into the upholstered back, the way her eyes drifted closed and exhaustion suddenly marked her expression breaking his heart.
She’d barely stayed awake through his careful cleaning of her face, breasts, and thighs. She’d showered, but excitement had laid a sheen of moisture over her flesh that would be extremely uncomfortable as it dried.
She needed to sleep.
He’d stolen precious reserves of energy from her. Energy she shouldn’t have possessed after the hellish night she’d endured as she fought to race from a killer.
Reaching out, he brushed back the long fall of hair that shadowed her fragile face.
Delicate black brows arched perfectly over her closed eyes. The thick, lush lashes that lay against her cheeks were surprisingly long. High cheekbones, that straight, autocratic Mackay nose, and stubborn chin.
She was so damned beautiful she still took his breath just as easily as she had that first afternoon he’d seen her standing on the dock of Mackay Marina. Short, too slender, her emerald eyes haunted, her face suffused with a flush as her gaze stroked over him . . .
He’d hardened instantly and hated himself for it. She’d been fucking eighteen. Barely eighteen, and all he could think of was pulling her beneath his body and fucking them both silly.
Until he’d come up on the wrong end of her cousin’s fist a few hours later.
He almost grinned as he cupped his chin and worked it at the memory of Natches’s blow.
Natches had outlined briefly, but very clearly, exactly what would happen to the son of a bitch who dared to follow through on the promise Graham’s eyes had been making as he’d stared at Lyrica.
Not that Graham hadn’t hit back. He had.
Like a snarling bear with a smarting dick, he’d put Natches on his ass before informing him that even on his worst day he’d never taken advantage of a kid. Not that Lyrica had been a kid. She was eighteen, lush, and so damned beautiful he’d barely been able to stand it. But she’d still been far too vulnerable, far too innocent for the likes of Graham Brock.
Tonight, she’d proved it.
Too innocent.
A virgin, and he’d fucked her mouth with a desperation and total lack of consideration that shocked the hell out of him.
And what made it worse?
He knew damned good and well he was going to be between her thighs, buried balls deep and fucking them both into a release that might end up getting him killed.
She was Natches Mackay’s favorite female cousin, and he was pure hell with that sniper rifle he still kept cleaned and ready to bury a bullet in a man’s head. Once he and his cousin Rowdy and Dawg Mackay—Lyrica’s brother—returned, they’d all three come after his hide.
Damn. It would be worth it, he thought grimly. The pleasure he found in this woman’s touch would be worth facing the wrath of the Mackays, their friend (and vengeful ex–government agent) Timothy Cranston, and whoever the hell was trying to kill her.
He’d take out the bastards who’d dare to terrify her. He’d fight her brother, both her cousins, and whoever Cranston wanted to send out for him.
It would be worth it.
But then what?
The question echoed through his mind, something he didn’t want to think about.
What then?
He wasn’t a forever man and he knew it. The option didn’t even exist. His secrets went deep and they threatened to destroy him if he wasn’t extremely careful. Him as well as the fragile, delicate woman he couldn’t seem to stay away from, if those secrets weren’t as dead as he hoped.
Added to that, someone was trying to kill her, no doubt as an act of vengeance against her brother and cousins.
