world he spoke of, beautiful and bright, spun around her in dizzying, white-hot circles. The pressure of Dallas's hand collided with the pressure building inside her--until it all exploded in a blinding, choking rush. And this time he was there, riding her ecstasy, his obscene torrent of words reduced to a guttural snarl of her name as he came inside her.
Her knees wouldn't hold her. As soon as the hand around her throat eased, Lex stumbled. Dallas caught her and swung her up onto the bed, though he didn't seem particularly steady, either.
It didn't stop him from pushing her hair back from her face and brushing a soft kiss to her lips. "You with me, darling?"
Her tongue felt thick, useless, but she managed a slow nod.
"Good. I'll be right back."
The mattress shifted, Lex opened her eyes and watched the low light gild the hard, muscled lines of his Dallas's body as he stripped off his clothes. "The lamps should have voice controls."
"Damn waste of resources," he grumbled, but she noticed he still took advantage of it, sliding into bed beside her before ordering the lights to a bare glow.
His warmth bolstered the soft haze of pleasure that still blurred the world around its edges, and Lex curled up in his arms. "The big meeting's tomorrow?"
"Mmm. A few hours of backbiting and arguing while everyone circles like stray dogs. And, if we're really lucky, maybe an assassination attempt by lunch."
She might have laughed--if it hadn't been so terribly likely. "Watch yourself, okay?"
He curled a hand around her rib cage, spreading his fingers until his thumb brushed her breast. "You, too. And don't you try'n ditch Mad, either. If he loses sight of you outside this room, I'll beat his ass down."
"I wouldn't." Wandering around Sector Two with no backup appealed to her about as much as sticking her hand in a snake pit.
"Good. I don't like this place. Don't like letting you out of my sight." His sigh tickled her temple. "Not just for your benefit, either. I don't have a damn clue how I'll keep my temper tomorrow."
He'd do it, like so many other things, because he had to. She turned her face and kissed his jaw. "It'll be over soon."
"Yeah? Do I get a reward for getting through the day without stabbing anyone?"
She rubbed one bare leg over his. "I'll think of something creative."
His laughter was a low rumble that vibrated through her as he rolled her beneath him. "I like you like this," he murmured against her lips. "Sleepy and sweaty and disheveled. Sexiest fucking thing in the world."
Any other time, she might have fought the pleasure that rose with his words. But here, now, the satisfaction seemed not only acceptable but necessary.
This was what it meant, the collar. The marks.
She didn't hold back the slow smile that curved her lips. "Don't you forget it."
Rachel
You can do this. Rachel wrapped her hand around the slightly crooked door handle and hesitated. She'd wanted this tattoo for too long to punk out now, just because Ace was the man for the job. She was an O'Kane, and he laid O'Kane ink.
Pure and simple.
The door creaked as she pushed it open. Ace stood next to a table, straightening his pens and markers. He didn't turn or even look up, but his voice washed over her, warm and wry. "Rachel."
"It's two o'clock." She dragged her gaze away from the muscled lines of shoulders, bare under his white wifebeater. "Are you ready for me?"
"Of course." He glanced back with one of those easy smiles she hadn't seen in too long. "Hop up on my table, angel, and tell me what your heart desires."
For a moment, all her heart did was shudder to a halt. She shook it off and climbed onto the table. "The tattoo we talked about--the O'Kane emblem across my chest."
His gaze settled on her chest, and his smile took on an edge of teasing. "How big are we talking?"
Her cheeks heated, and she cursed herself for wearing the sexy retro getup Trix had picked out for her. The capris were okay, and she'd worn the outfit specifically for the tight strapless top, since it meant she might not have to strip half-naked for her tattoo.
Right now, though, it just felt like she'd tried too hard.
She cleared her throat. "You're the artist. You know what would look good."
"Damn near anything." But he relented and dropped to his stool. "Hanging out with that city boy's bad for your constitution, angel. I haven't