Desire flared to life inside her again, stronger—heavier and more insistent—than before. She slid her palms down, caressing over old scars and ridges to reach an excellent male ass. She squeezed.
The room tilted. Less than a heartbeat later, she found herself flat on the mattress, Max over her. His mouth enclosed one nipple.
Fire lanced through her. “God, Max.”
He chuckled, the vibrations nearly sending her over the edge. One inflexible knee parted her thighs, pressing against her swollen core. His dangerous mouth wandered over to lick and torture the other breast.
She tugged on his thick hair. “Now, Max. Please.”
A solid arm banded around her waist. The room tilted again. She landed on top of him, straddling his magnificent body, his cock pulsing beneath her. His grin surpassed wicked, his eyes a dark maroon—way beyond pink. “You set the pace, sweetheart.” For the briefest of moments, vulnerability flashed in those otherworldly eyes.
Her heart thumped hard against her ribs. He was afraid of hurting her. Emotion swelled her chest. The need to protect him, the feminine need to reassure him, caught her off guard. “I trust you, Max. You won’t hurt me.”
“I know.” He grasped her hips, raising her in the air—onto him.
Bending forward, she cautiously guided him into her body. Several times she paused, allowing her body to adjust to his size.
The fingers at her hips dug in, his palms vibrating. Muscles rippled in his abs and chest as he held himself in check.
Power spiked along her spine. Control. She had it, and paused again, a flirtatious chuckle bubbling up.
Warning flared in his eyes. His hold tightened. He plunged up, pressing her the rest of the way along his shaft. Pain froze her in place, then pleasure burst so hard and fast she clutched both hands to his chest.
“I warned you about playing, Sarah.” While he sounded in control, a vein pulsed in his forehead.
The dare pushed her beyond reason. Beyond the logical, steady woman she’d always been. “Is that so?” Her lips tickled into a small smile. She rose up, and slowly slid down, taking all of him, torturing them both.
He tightened his grip on her hips once again. “Sarah.”
Freedom gave her courage. The courage to push herself and the courage to tempt him. She needed to be the one to make him lose himself. She levered up, then teased him with a slow glide down again.
A primal growl erupted from his chest.
Caution flirted, but the man tempted her more. She flattened her palms on his abdomen, tightened her muscles, and levered up, torturing them both.
No additional warning was given. He flipped her beneath him, plunging deep and fast. His hands trapped hers against the bed. Pleasure bit into her. Triumph rushed through her. She curled her fingers through his, meeting him thrust for thrust.
His gaze devoured hers. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She did, and he plunged deeper. She locked her feet at the small of his back, holding on to his hands. Harder, more powerful, his thrusts rocked the bed, overwhelming her. Giving so much pleasure, yet taking far more than she’d intended to give—part of herself—a piece she wasn’t sure she’d ever get back.
Torment filled his eyes. His fangs dropped low and sharp.
Need whipped through her sex. Unbidden, she turned to expose her neck, offering.
A half growl, half groan ripped from his chest. Capturing her wrists in one hand over her head, he grabbed her ass, lifting her. His knees bent and he yanked her into him, pounding as if he couldn’t stop.
Oh God. So close. She was so close. “Max.”
He angled the base of his shaft over her clit. Fire exploded from inside her, ripping along every nerve. She cried out, arching against him, sensations consuming her. With a growl, he ground into her, his entire body tightening as he came. Holding her tight, he filled her with so much more than the physical. He dropped his head onto her neck, giving her a soft kiss.
He released her wrists and settled against her. She lowered her arms and held him tight. So tight. How could she ever let him go?
Chapter 7
Morning rain pattered peacefully against the window as Max ran a gentle hand down Sarah’s soft arm. The woman slept soundly.
He’d been too rough with her. He should probably feel guilty instead of profoundly pleased. His mate. No question now, if there had been one earlier. Keeping his fangs in his mouth and not in her neck had taken every ounce of self-control he’d honed through the centuries. Even now, sated after an entire night of truly excellent sex, his canines ached, creating a pulsing demand to take ... to claim.
She felt the bond, too. When she’d turned and exposed her neck, she’d sealed her fate. He’d take what she’d offered as soon as the virus was cured. Now that he’d found her, his entire existence narrowed to keeping her safe. It would be much easier to do if he could put her and Janie in the same place.
But first, he had a job to do.
Quietly, he slipped from the bed and yanked on cargo pants. Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, he shut the door behind him and padded barefoot through the penthouse to open the door. Conn sat in a chair in the hallway with both doorways in sight.
Max rubbed his whiskers. “Thought you’d be gone.” Though he hadn’t, not really. He knew his friend would be watching the door.
Conn shrugged. “Had a feeling you might be preoccupied.”
“She’s mine.”
“I know.” Conn’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “It’s different. With your mate, I mean.”
“Yeah.” Max had never figured to find a mate. The idea of staying away from her now, well, seemed truly impossible.
His respect for Conn grew—what self-restraint the soldier must’ve had to stay away from his mate. His friend had mated an Irish witch a hundred years ago, a young witch who needed time to train. Conn had given her a century. “Go to Ireland, Conn.”
“I’m planning on it. As soon as I get you all settled.”
A sense of belonging settled hard on Max’s shoulders. The Kayrs brothers treated him like one of them. “I can settle myself, Connlan.”
“You’re family, Max. Always have been.” Conn drew a knife out of a pocket, flipping and catching it.
“You’ve never questioned that.” Two hundred years ago, when Dage had rescued Max from hell and took him to their home, the brothers had banded around him. He’d never understood why.
“There’s nothing to question.” Conn raised an eyebrow, continuing his game with the knife, yet focusing on Max.
“You’re going to stab yourself.”
But he wouldn’t. The ultimate soldier, Conn would get bored long before losing control of the knife.
Max shook his head. “You didn’t know me. In fact, what you did know, well, wasn’t good.”
“I knew your father was an asshole who beat the hell out of you—which wasn’t your fault.” Conn tucked the blade into his left boot, keeping eye contact. “You’re one of us, Max. It’s time to stop being grateful, time to stop wondering how to make yourself valuable. I’m not the wise one around here, but that much I know. Your place is here, regardless.”
Hope unfurled inside Max. Something even more tenuous let loose—trust. From the second he’d been asked to protect Janie, he’d felt at home with the Kayrs family. Dage would only trust family with her safety. Dage had probably put them together as much for Max as for Janie. Max had been frozen and unemotional before meeting the little girl, and now he was ready to take a chance with a mate. Maybe he really did belong. “Thanks, Conn.”