Page 42 of Dangerous Secrets

He was completely dressed except for his dick hanging out and she was utterly naked. He didn’t need arousing, it felt like steam was coming off him as it was, but the sight of her naked body against him shattered what little control he’d still had.

Nick’s hands cupped her bottom, lifting her up, and he slammed into her, hard and fast. She took him. He shook, letting his forehead droop onto her shoulder. She could take him. Thank God. She’d done her own foreplay and this was going to work.

He was breathing hard, lungs bellowing, trembling, trying to hold on to his control. She clasped him like a warm, wet fist. He needed to wait just a second before fucking, make sure she was used to him.

Charity’s head was tilted back against the door, long slender neck exposed. For a second, Nick wished he were a vampire. In that instant, he got vampires, totally. Understood precisely what made them tick. That neck was a bite magnet, positivelymadefor biting.

He shifted his head, brought his lips to her throat, licked her, then bit her. A delicate but hard nip. Right over where her heartbeat pulsed.

Charity jolted, gasping. At the same time, her sex clenched around him, from root to tip, tight and hot. His entire body clenched back and he lost control.

Keeping his mouth to her throat he started pounding in her, holding her up and keeping her legs spread with his hands, the entire world reduced to his mouth on her throat and his dick in her, completely open to him. Her back thumped against the wooden door. Too hard. He was being too hard on her but he couldn’t stop himself, it felt like he’d been waiting for this forever, like a dam that had just burst.

He had no idea if he could stop if she asked him to, his body had taken over entirely, trying very hard to pump as deeply intoher body as it was possible to go. As if he were trying to punch a hole to her heart with his dick.

It was too much, too intense. His heart raced, sweat poured down his back, he picked up the pace for a wild second, swelling inside her and then he erupted, coming wildly, in huge waves, shuddering and moaning.

Was she—yes!

With a wild cry, Charity started coming, the small contractions milking him tightly, drawing his climax out. Damn, he’d give anything not to have a rubber on. To spill into her warm, welcoming body instead of into latex, feel every inch of her, as he had yesterday.

One last, hard thrust and it was over. He leaned heavily against her, panting, knees so weak he had to stiffen them.

Slowly his senses returned. He could hear his own heavy breathing in the quiet of the room.

He winced. His fingers were clutching the soft cheeks of her ass so hard he was bound to leave bruises. He loosened his fingers, one by one. It was surprisingly hard to do.

He was leaning against her so hard, he was keeping her up against the wall by his weight alone. He stepped back a fraction and allowed her to slip down until her feet touched the ground.

He also allowed himself to slip out of her. He didn’t want it, but it had to be done. She’d be sore, and the rubber would start leaking soon.

He also found when he lifted his head that he’d been sucking on her neck so hard while coming he’d left a hickey.

He should be ashamed. He should. But he wasn’t. It looked just fine on her neck, like a little brand left by him. Like a little message to the world.

Mine.

Chapter Twelve

Parker’s Ridge

November 21

Early Monday afternoon, Nick rapped his knuckles on the steel door of the van and, without waiting for a response, yanked the door open.

He was in a foul mood. He’d spent the past three hours overseeing the company that put in a top-of-the-line security system at the Prewitt mansion. The company was a good one, but the salesman had tried to snow the elderly, confused judge with unnecessary bells and whistles.

It made him so goddamnedangry. The instant a human becomes weak, the wolves come out to prey. He remembered reading in a book a Roman saying—man is wolf to man. Well, that just about summed up humankind.

It got to him, every fucking time, how the strong preyed on the weak. Jake would have died in the orphanage, either from the beatings or sheer neglect, if he hadn’t been there.

Nick made it his life work to stand between the weak, the young and the old and that section of humankind that was bornwithout a heart. That saw other humans the way the butcher sees the pig. Useful, but only when slaughtered.

He’d fought them in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Cechnya, in Indonesia, in Columbia. And now he was fighting them here at home. These aliens in human bodies.

But no matter how hard he fought, no matter how many he took down, there were always more and more and more of them. The supply never ended.

Nick was so familiar with the type he could smell it—the alien who would cut you up for parts as soon as look at you.

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