“She’s fine.” Roni knew she was feeling a little giddy from the drugs when she gave Callan a mock frown. “But I want a gun now. I know how to use it.”
“It’s yours.” He nodded firmly, not even bothering to glance at Taber to be certain, as she had expected.
“Side arm or rifle?”
She felt a thrill of satisfaction. “Rifle. Like Taber’s.”
Taber groaned behind her.
“Lessons,” Callan muttered, shaking his head at her. “Let Taber teach you the use of it and it’s yours. If you like, you can pick your own.”
He rose to his feet then, a small smile lighting his eyes. “Just don’t shoot Taber, huh? He has his good points.”
“I’m sure he does,” she drawled. “I just haven’t found them yet. I promise to look harder before making a firm decision to take his head off, though.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Taber retorted sarcastically to Callan. “Appreciate the help and all.”
Callan winced. “Yeah. Welcome ole son.” He smothered his laughter as he looked over her head at Taber. “I have confidence in you, though. I’m sure you can convince her to let you live, at least for a while yet.”
Taber snorted, but by then Roni was bored with their male amusement.
“I need a bath.” She eased herself from the bed, testing the strength of her legs, which really wasn’t so good at the moment. “And food. I need food. Pizza is definitely called for in this situation.”
Taber scooped her up in his arms, his grip fierce as he strode quickly from the room.
“I can walk,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the brief respite from her worries that the drugs had provided.
“Of course you can.” He glanced down at her, his lips much too distracting as they curved up into a smile. “But I like carrying you.”
He had always carried her, every chance he had, she remembered. He had carried her when he first found her, huddled in the night, terrified of the sounds of darkness and the men who had run her from her home. Every chance after that, he had carried her whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“Do you have any idea how good you feel in my arms?” he asked her as he strode quickly up the stairs into the suite he claimed as his own.
He kicked the door closed behind him, but didn’t make it to the bedroom. He collapsed on the couch, his arms still firm and hard around her as he lowered his head, his lips covering hers demandingly. Roni wasn’t willing to just be a participant this time. She had faced death earlier. Had faced the knowledge that at any moment, she or Taber could cease to exist. She wasn’t willing to fight the needs clamoring in her body any longer. Or those in her heart.
She rose in his arms, ignoring his little growl of warning until she was straddling him, staring into his surprised gaze.
“Mine!” Her whisper, despite its softness, resonated with the sense of possessiveness and power filling her now.
His eyes flared. The jade-green color darkening, the pupils expanding as her fingers went to the buttons of his bloodstained shirt. The cotton, though she was sure it was soft enough, rasped her palms as she smoothed it across his shoulders then down to the first button. It slipped free easily.
“Roni.” He swallowed tightly, emotion echoing thick and intense through his hoarse voice.
“You marked me,” she told him softly, determined. “But you didn’t mark me the day you placed your mouth on my neck, Taber. You marked me when I was eleven years old and you carried me to safety. When I was sixteen and you arranged my first birthday party. When you placed that little, all too innocent kiss against my lips. You marked me a little more every time I saw you, every time you touched me. Now, I’m going to mark you.”
She smoothed his shirt back from his chest, over his broad shoulders, and laid her mouth at the point where his shoulder and neck met. There, in the thick, pulsing muscle, she bit him. Not enough to draw blood, just enough that his body tightened, his h*ps arching and grinding his c**k into the cradle of her thighs as his hands gripped her h*ps with bruising strength. She bit down, laved the area she held in her grip with her tongue, suckled it deeply, repeated the erotic, sexually charged caress he had given her so many months ago. The effect on him was no different than it had been for her, it seemed.
He tore the shirt from her back as her attention stayed on the tight flesh she caressed with a force that would vary between pain and pleasure. He shredded the cloth then pulled it from her body before his
fingers moved to her snug jeans.
“Take them off.” His voice was feral, rumbling, as he pushed the material over her hips, midway over the curve of her bu**ocks.
Roni murmured a soft sound of pleasure as his hands pushed beneath the jeans, cupping her rounded flesh, his fingers flexing against the firm muscle as he moved her roughly against his jeans-covered cock. She wasn’t in a hurry, and she had no intention of allowing him to rush her. She needed to touch him, to taste him, to know he was safe and in her arms and that this wasn’t just another desperate dream.
“You’re killing me.” He was panting for breath now, his head tilted to the side, giving her complete access to the strong line of his throat.
Roni realized she had never felt as confident or strong, sexually, as she did at that moment. He was helpless beneath her touch. Rough groans vibrated from his throat, every muscle tense, his erection grinding desperately against the cloth that shielded her hot, damp pu**y. Her nails raked over his chest, the corded planes of his abdomen, then back to his tight, hard male ni**les. When she was satisfied she had left at least a small mark on his tough skin, she released the flesh she held, then ran her tongue slowly along his neck. She nipped him lightly under the hard line of his jaw, then licked her way down his throat, feeling the flexing of his skin as he swallowed tightly.