Chosen by Desire (23 page)

It was the only thing he was sure of at the moment.

Rhys had to be the one behind everything. He’d probably misled her, used her, and was now trying to clean up any path leading to him. Would he harm Carrie? Without a doubt. His onetime best friend was ruthless.

The thought of Carrie in danger caused a twinge in his chest. Somehow she’d burrowed past his defenses, and the need to keep her safe felt crucial.

Even if he had to protect her from herself.

Max was going to end this. To hell with revenge on Rhys—to hell with whatever reason Carrie had for stealing the documents in the first place. He wasn’t going to stand by and wait for her to get hurt.

He’d take the scrolls and return them.

Carrie mumbled and nestled into him. Her back pressed to his chest, and he slipped his arms around her, inhaling her.

Mine.
His fingers glided down her belly, combed into her curls, and hooked at the base of her clit. It firmed under his finger, eager. Whatever her reasons for stealing the scroll, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her body didn’t—couldn’t—lie.

She stirred again, her leg falling open, as if giving him permission. He dragged over her again, slowly and softly.

Her moan fired his blood. She arched back into his hard-on. He hissed at the sharp pleasure. Unable to help himself, he concentrated the rough pad of his finger directly where he knew she liked it most.

Her hips began to roll and thrust. A masculine triumph surged in him, something prehistoric and elemental in a way he’d never felt before.

Her legs shifted, and his erection slipped between them. Her wetness bathed the head of his cock, and he involuntarily surged toward it. He froze when he slipped into her body.

He shut his eyes and tried to get control of himself. She was asleep, and he was acting like a randy teenaged boy copping a clandestine feel. He should pull away. Or wake her up at least, for Christ’s sake.

Sighing, Carrie rubbed her ass against him and pressed a hand over his. “What are you waiting for?” she asked in a sleep-husky voice.

Reaching for a condom, he covered himself and pushed into her. All the way.

She gasped, her body tensing. He held her in place, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to keep from thrusting into her until she’d become accustomed to him.

Tight. And hot. Like metal in a flame, he felt her give and mold to him. With a low moan, she curled her fingers over his, urging him to rub her faster.

Rolling on top of her, needing to be closer, he thrust into her as he pinched and plucked at her. She bucked against him, her cries driving him on.

His chi crested inside him, pushing to be let loose. This time, he gave it free rein.

They both gasped as it flowed from him into her. He felt the connection between them—strong and solid, but fluid and hot at the same time.

He could already feel himself on the verge. Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to hold out, he softly bit her neck. “Come.”

The pillows muffled her scream, but he heard her clearly. “
Max.
”

Hearing her call his name set him off. With a growl, he pushed into her one more time, trying to get deeper, trying to bury himself in her, as he came.

Both breathing heavily, he rolled to the side, cradling her tightly in his arms. She sighed, a content sound aimed straight at his conflicted heart.

C
arrie woke up in love.

What else could the warm feeling be that swelled from her heart all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes as she watched Max sleep? She’d never been in love before, so she could be wrong, but she was pretty sure this tingly, apprehensive, bubbly feeling was the real deal.

And no, it wasn’t the sex.

She could see how such incredible sex could be mistaken for love. When you connect with someone that deeply, when you give all of yourself like that, you want to believe it’s some deep emotion.

But she wasn’t mistaking great (really great) sex for emotion. Yeah, she liked myth and story, but she was a realist first and foremost. She’d waited this long to fall in love—she was hardly going to confuse it with a lesser thing.

And she knew the exact moment last night when it hit her that she loved him. He came inside her and something changed. It wasn’t just physical anymore—he’d given himself over, and they connected on a completely different level.

Propped on her side, she smiled as she watched him sleep. Careful not to wake him up, she pushed back his hair and brushed a kiss over his scar. He was so gruff, so blunt, but underneath he was a big softie. As desperate as he’d been for her, he’d taken care to make sure she was right there with him, seeped in pleasure and begging.

She loved him.

Did he love her? Her smile faded a little, but then she shook her head. He wouldn’t be able to give himself like that if he didn’t feel something. She doubted he’d admit any sort of feelings—he was so skittish—but she knew deep down that he felt something.

The real question was whether he’d go running or if he’d step up and admit he liked her. Although if he did that thing with his tongue and his fingers again, she’d definitely let him off the hook for another day or two. She shifted her legs, wondering if she should wake him up the way he’d woken her up last night.

His eyes popped open.

She tried to read his gaze but it was guarded, just like usual. She would
not
let that get her down. Instead of letting her heart sink, she pictured her love breaking over him, like gentle warm waves, just like how she read in the scroll.

Instead of lightening, his gaze went even colder. Not what she expected at all. But before she could ask what the matter was, he rolled on top of her and kissed her.

She gave a muffled groan and grabbed his butt. “Closer.”

Pressing his hardness against her thigh, he nibbled at her mouth, sucking her lower lip before releasing it to press a kiss to the hollow at the base of her neck.

She arched, sighing. “I could get used to being woken up this way.”

He shook his head, his stubble rasping her skin deliciously. “I believe I was the one awakened.”

“Semantics.” She tugged on his hair, lifting his head so she could see his eyes. She had to know. “Is anything wrong?”

“What could be wrong?”

“Do you regret it?”

He settled over her, nestled between her legs. “Would I be here if I did?”

That wasn’t an answer. Call him on it, or not? She was leaving in just over a week. What could she expect from him? What right did she have to expect anything? They’d spent only one night together. For all she knew, this was it.

He stroked down her body, watching his hands mold her.

If this was all she got, then she was going to make it something to remember. She stretched into his hands, speared her fingers through his hair, and kissed him, over and over until they both panted wildly.

Lifting up, he took a condom off the side table, slipped it on, and rolled them over so she sat on top of him. In one smooth move, he was inside her.

Balancing herself with a hand on his chest, she kissed the base of his neck, right over the raised skin of his scar. “I wonder how you got this.”

His hands clenched her hips. She didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he said, “I was betrayed.”

She blinked. No wonder he was so prickly about everything. She wanted to ask who betrayed him and what had happened, but his scar ran more than skin deep, and now wasn’t the time to delve into it. Because she couldn’t stand the shadows that returned to his eyes, she leaned over him and made love to his mouth.

Just like that, everything went from being pleasurable to being crazy intense. He groaned, and she felt something in him change. Open. She felt a wave of cool strength blow through her, just like the last time they’d had sex.

She smelled a metallic scent and lifted her head to make sure she hadn’t bitten him too hard with her teeth in her enthusiasm, but she didn’t see any blood. Weird.

He speared his hand in her hair and brought her mouth back to his. His kiss left her dizzy and writhing and moaning. She could feel her orgasm rushing over her, and she cried out, rocking against him.

His head reared back, and she lowered her mouth to his scar, nipping it with her teeth. He roared and his body bucked as he started to climax. She couldn’t hold back if she tried—she went headlong into the pleasure with him.

She wilted on top of him, panting. She didn’t want to move—she would have given anything to stay here all day with him. But she had work to do, and she didn’t know how he’d take the suggestion. She didn’t want him to think she was a slacker or using him in any way.

His arms tightened around her. “You’re thinking.”

She grinned. “You can see the smoke churning from my head, huh?”

“It was fairly obvious,” he said mildly.

Turning her head, she kissed his chest before resting her cheek on his heart. “I was just thinking it was going to take a monster breakfast to get me ready to work. Something that involves French toast, eggs, bacon, and maybe even one of those apple pastries your chef keeps supplying me, even though I’ve told Francesca not to serve them anymore.”

He rolled her onto her back. “I was under the impression you liked them.”

She wrapped her legs around his to hold him close. “I do. Too much. My butt can’t handle that kind of love.”

He stared at her, obviously puzzled. “You’re worried about gaining weight?”

She rolled her eyes. “What woman isn’t? Well, except Francesca, but secretly, I think she’s part of the Borg, so she doesn’t count.”

His hand slipped under her and gripped one of the butt cheeks in question. “You could stand a little more weight. You’re tiny.”

“Only compared to you.” She laughed. “You must like your women rotund.”

“Hmm.” Burying his head against her neck, he shifted his weight off her, just enough so she didn’t smother but so their bodies remained connected.

The mark on the back of his left shoulder caught her eye. How cool to have a broadsword-shaped birthmark. She ran a finger over it, feeling a strange tug in her body. “In high school, I had a friend who had a heart-shaped birthmark. I was so jealous. It was like she was marked by love.”

He lifted his head and studied her, a little too fiercely. But then the tension eased from his body, and he reached up to kiss her.

The moment his mouth touched hers, she surrendered herself to it and all other thoughts faded.

Max was breathing heavily again by the time he lifted his head. “I won’t let you leave your room if we start again.”

His sex-raspy voice made her shiver, and she wanted to ask him if that was a bad thing. “I’ve got to get to work. My boss is a slave driver.”

His eyes narrowed.

She sighed dramatically. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tied me to my desk.”

His big hands glided up her body, down her arms to shackle her wrists behind her. “Something else you like?”

It made her breasts jut out, and she felt his hungry gaze on them. Excitement pooled in her belly, especially as she felt him harden beneath her. She licked her lips. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

He rose to lick her lips himself, and with dark passion he said, “Perhaps we should find out.”