“You bastard!” She tried to ram her elbow into his kidney, only to earn a hard, burning slap to her ass.
Oh no. He hadn’t just smacked her butt. He wouldn’t dare.
“I’ll kill you myself,” she screamed, trying to deliver another blow, only to earn another burning caress as they passed the exit.
She hated him. She hated him. She was going to kill him herself. Oh God, just as soon as she fucked him. Just as soon as the burning, tearing arousal echoing from those slaps eased just enough for her to figure out how to kill him.
“Get in there.” An instant later she was bouncing on another leather seat. That of the extended Hummer, whose posh limolike facing seats, separated from the front driver’s area, were a testament to the amount of money the Fuentes cartel had to burn.
Anger and arousal surged through her blood as she jumped for him. A week of aching pain, too many nightmares, and too many fears converged. The vehicle door slammed behind him as her fists struck his chest. His hands gripped her wrists, his larger body slammed her back to the seat, and within a second his lips were on hers, his body covering hers, his hands stroking, his knee parting her thighs, his groan meeting her moans as lust exploded between them.
She wasn’t lost any more. It was her first thought as his lips ground into hers and he anchored her body against his. She wasn’t lost, she wasn’t reaching, she wasn’t trying to fill the sudden emptiness inside her any longer. Ian was filling it. He was her match. The one man she couldn’t defeat. The other half of her soul.
Her fingers curled as she strained against the grip he had on her. Her hips arched, pressing her sex tighter against the silk slacks he wore, loving the feel of his knee pressing into her.
His lips were devouring hers. Lips, teeth, tongue, he made good use of them all. He nipped and licked, stroked and consumed her. He fired responses in her that she didn’t know she possessed, didn’t know she could feel.
She was the female equivalent of his dominant force. She should be trying to claw his eyes out, not riding his knee with lusty hunger. And she sure as hell shouldn’t be creaming so hard that the bare flesh of her pussy was dampening his slacks.
“Son of a bitch!” His head jerked up. “You’re not wearing fucking panties.”
He shifted back, his eyes focusing between her thighs, where the hem of her dress had ridden to the top of her legs.
“Panty lines,” she mumbled, lifting to him again, arching against the hold he still had on her wrists.
His gaze jerked back to hers, his whisky eyes burning with hidden flames as his hair fell over his face, giving him a sensual, warriorlike appearance.
“Panty lines?” He blinked back at her.
“The dress is tight, Ian,” she groaned. “The lines of the panties would have shown through it. Now would you please shut up and just kiss me again?”
Just one more of those openmouthed, “steal her soul” kisses and she might be able to save her sanity at a later date.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” His free hand followed the deep cut of the bodice of her dress, one finger burrowing beneath the material before dragging it over one hard, spiked nipple.
His nostrils flared. Lust raged in his eyes and in his expression, sparking a burning flame in her womb and whipping it to a conflagration of heat.
She could feel perspiration gathering on her face and beneath her breasts, dampening her but doing nothing to still the heat burning inside her.
“I’m not supposed to be anywhere else,” she moaned as his thumb and forefinger gripped the hard point, tugging at it, tightening on it as the pressure of his grip sent wild fingers of sensation tearing across her nerve endings. “Let me go, Ian, let me touch you.”
She was desperate to touch him. Had she ever needed to touch a man as desperately as she needed to touch him? She knew she hadn’t. Knew that arousal and hunger had never been so fierce, so wicked.
Almost as fierce and wicked as the dark eyes trained on her breasts. They weren’t young perky breasts. Not like the women who had surrounded him earlier in the club. Her breasts were full, swollen now with need, her nipples tight and hard, begging for his attention.
“I dream of this.” His voice vibrated with dark desires. “Seeing you restrained beneath me, your body begging for my touch. Is that what you really want, Kira? Don’t you know what you’re risking here?”
She was certain if she stopped to think about it, then she would be terrified.
“What am I risking, Ian?” she whispered instead. “Or are you the one scared of the risk? Afraid that tough, hard heart of yours might be affected this time?”
His pupils dilated, his expression tightening as his brows lowered broodingly.
“I want you.” The statement wasn’t what she expected. “All of you.”
“I need you,” he repeated, glaring down at her, his body tense and fierce.
“I’m yours.” She was panting? Hell, now she was panting. She wanted him with a hunger and a desperation she knew she had no hope of controlling.
His thumb and forefinger tightened on her nipple, sending a flash of erotic heat clashing through her system. “I want you beneath me or safely behind me, no matter what. You’re driving me crazy putting yourself in danger.”
She couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips.
“No.” She couldn’t give him that. She wouldn’t give him that. “Do you want me, Ian, or one of the mindless little submissives you’ve been fucking for years? If it’s the latter you want, then you’ll have to find it somewhere else.”
She refused to be less than who she was with him. Not just a lover, but a partner. For so many years she had hidden who she was, always playing a role, always aware of the mission, whichever mission it might be. This time, she couldn’t play a role. Not in his arms. Not with her heart.
She watched the gathering ire in his expression, felt the tension that raged in his body. But his touch never crossed the line between pleasure and pain.
“You think this is a game with me,” he stated, his rough voice grating now. “Damn you, Kira. I can’t think for the need to touch you, to hold you. To protect you.” His fingers left her nipple but his head lowered, his tongue swiping over the now tender tip. He nipped the sensitive flesh, causing a shocked moan to leave her throat as pleasure washed through her system.