rumble came from deep in his chest as he kicked away the last of his clothes and joined her.
“There’s only you and me in this bed,” she told him. “No one else. Nothing else.” Lucifer, Gabriel, her sister, none of them belonged in here with them.
“Only us,” he agreed. He crawled on top of her, spread her legs wide, and pushed his cock inside. There was no need for foreplay. The entire evening had been leading them to this. She opened for him and moaned as he stretched her, filled her.
With their eyes locked, he thrust hard and fast.
Chapter Thirteen
Maccus stared up at the ceiling, drained both physically and mentally. He’d lost count of how many times he’d fucked Morrigan. Each time he’d told himself to go more slowly, to be gentle. Each time he’d failed.
No one could call him a considerate lover at the best of times. He made sure his partner came, but he’d never driven a woman as long and hard as he had Morrigan. And she’d proved more than his equal, meeting him stroke for stroke, gripping his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his skin.
No matter what he’d done, what he’d asked of her, she’d welcomed him. He’d never had a more perfect lover.
How was he supposed to give her up?
They weren’t only compatible in bed but outside it as well.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Her voice was groggy. Her head rested on his shoulder and one leg was bent and thrown over his thighs, so she was partially covering him. It seemed natural and right to hold her like this.
Again it marked her difference. All past sexual encounters had taken place outside his home. She was the only woman he’d ever had in his bed. Usually, it was him getting up to leave while his sex partner slumbered in their own home or at some hotel.
When she pushed upright, the covers slithered down, leaving her upper body bare. His cock stirred.
She blinked several times, reminding him of a curious owl. Her hair was damp and stood up in short tufts in places. A lock was stuck right in the center of her forehead, so he brushed it aside. Her skin was dewy, her lips swollen.
The damn woman was making him downright poetic. He was much better at killing things, preferred it. It was easier.
“Now you’re thinking too loudly,” she complained.
He almost smiled, and he never smiled. “Sorry.” Not really. He’d been watching her sleep. Wouldn’t have woken her, but he was glad she was awake.
The corners of her lips tilted up in a smile. His chest expanded as he took a breath.
“No, you’re not.” She shoved her fingers through her hair, yawned, and rolled onto her back. He followed, turning onto his side and propping his head up on one hand so he could stare down at her.
“No, I’m not,” he agreed.
She laughed and shook her head. “An honest man. I didn’t think there was such a thing.”
“I’ll never lie to you,” he promised. It might hurt them both, but he’d always tell her the truth.
“I know.” Her chin dipped, and her eyes slid away from him. “Sometimes I wish you would, but I’m glad you don’t.”
He didn’t like seeing her this way—defeated and uncertain. Not the confident hunter and woman who tempted him at every turn. “Tell me about yourself.” The request was twofold. It would distract her from her worrisome thoughts and also allow him to learn more about her.
“What do you want to know?”
“Something. Anything.” He’d treasure any little memory, no matter how mundane. Digging through his memories, he replayed everything she’d already told him. “You mentioned college.”
She sighed and tugged on the sheets. It was almost a crime to hide her breasts, but he didn’t pull the covering away, otherwise, they’d end up fucking rather than talking.
“Yeah, I’d been working as a waitress and janitor, but I told you that. I’m not sure what I would have done. I was saving for school. I’d planned to maybe become a teacher. I love books, but