The darkness didn’t scare her. Never had. And even the cold embrace of the water hadn’t stirred the terror. But the moment when she’d thought Max was lost to her, when Quinlan had closed in with that knife…
Fear choked me.
“Wake up,” she whispered to him, leaning closer to the bed. “I need to tell—”
His lashes fluttered, and Sam stilled. “Max?”
The beeping grew faster. A groan escaped his lips.
Max. She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Do you hear me, Max? You’re safe. You’re in a hospital, everything’s fine and—”
His lips moved. A soundless whisper.
“I couldn’t—Max, I couldn’t hear you.”
His lashes cracked open. His eyes met hers. “Kill… him…”
Those words—they were the same words that he’d yelled to her when Quinlan had lunged at her with the knife. Her life versus Quinlan’s. Max had chosen.
But she hadn’t made the kill. “I didn’t have to,” she said, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his face. “The SSD came. They took him into custody.”
His gaze looked so weak. She wasn’t even sure if he could focus on her.
“He won’t hurt anyone else,” she promised him. “He’ll be…”
“Cage…”
And she remembered the words she’d said to him so long ago. They belong in cages, far away from innocent people. She swallowed to ease the lump in her throat. “He’s going to prison. The SSD will make sure he doesn’t get out any time soon.”
Max’s eyes fluttered closed. “Over.”
“For him.” It hurt to see the pain on his face. The only remaining member of his family had been a psychotic bastard who’d tried to kill him. “Not for you though, Max. You’re going to be okay, do you hear me? The doctors patched you up, and you’re going to be fine. For you, everything’s just beginning.”
Max woke up in a cold sweat, his body shuddering and Samantha’s name on his lips.
“Shh… it’s okay.” Her whisper came to him in the darkness, and it took him a moment to understand….
Not in the hospital. After nearly seven days, he’d finally been released. He hadn’t gone back to Frank’s place—he couldn’t stand the thought of that—and Samantha hadn’t wanted him to be alone.
Her place. Her scent surrounded him, her soft bed cushioned him, and the feather-light weight of her hand pressed against his chest. “It’s just a dream,” she told him. “You’re safe. It’s over.”
He’d been back at that river. Quinlan had been there, firing his gun, and Max hadn’t been able to get to Samantha. Her body had floated to the surface. And he’d lost her.
He rolled, wrapping his arms around her and holding tight.
“Max, no, your stitches!”
Screw them. The pain just made him realize that he was alive. She was alive. And he’d be damned if he lost his chance with her.
His lips found hers in the darkness, and he kissed her with a desperate desire that fired his blood. A need only she could satisfy. She’d slipped past his guard, gotten under his skin, and he knew he’d never be the same without her.
But her hands were pushing against him, not holding him close, and the ache ripped through him.
“You’ll hurt yourself,” her husky whisper filled his ears.
“Not having you will hurt a lot more.” Didn’t she understand? Lust tightened his body. His c**k was already hard and swollen, but the need for her was so much more. A hollow ache inside his chest.
Need her. Flesh to flesh. Want her. All that she is. Everything.
Her hands pushed him, and Max found himself flat on his back.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, the words drifting in the dark, and a rough laugh built in his chest.
“You won’t.” Unless she left.
The sheets rustled, the cool air hit his legs, and then warm flesh was above him as she straddled his hips. Samantha was careful not to jostle his healing leg or to touch the wounds on his stomach.
She stared down at him, and in the faint moonlight, he could see the darkness of her eyes.
No panties. Her legs were spread, and his c**k pushed against the hot core of her body. His hand slipped between them, found the center of her need, and his fingers stroked her. Max wanted her to be as ready, as desperate, as he was.
She arched against him, and a soft moan slipped past her lips. Not good enough.
His thumb pressed harder. Her hips pushed back against him. Max found the tight opening of her body and thrust two fingers inside. Proof of her arousal coated his fingers.
His fingers worked her body. Max touched her the way he knew she liked. Building the arousal. Pushing her to the edge. Her sex clamped around his fingers. The delicate muscles squeezed in a strong grip, and he wanted her around his cock. Wanted to be driving deep into her. So deep that she’d never be free of him. So deep that she’d know, always, that she was…
Mine.
“Max!” Need choked in the word, and then her fingers were on his cock, soft and delicate, touching and stroking, and he had to clench his back teeth.
She guided his cock, positioning it right at the entrance to her body. So wet and warm. Nothing between them, nothing—
Condom. “Samantha—”
“I’m safe,” she managed, tossing back her hair.
So was he. And if she wanted skin to skin…
She eased down and took him inside her body.
And it was heaven. Hell. So good he lost his breath. So tight that he nearly came at the first hot glide of her body. He forgot the pain and only knew her.
Max worked the rhythm with her, lifting his hips up to meet her, holding tight, and keeping his eyes on her.
Samantha. The woman he’d nearly died for. The woman he would have killed for.
Her moans filled the air. His fingers dug too deeply into her hips, but he couldn’t stop. Need her too much.
Her nails bit into his shoulders. Her sex rippled around him, and then she was coming, whispering his name and arching above him.
Beautiful.
Her climax shivered around his cock, and he exploded into her as a wave of hot pleasure pulsed through his body. Max wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
Because he wasn’t letting her go. No matter what nightmares might come—for him, for her—he wasn’t letting her go.
When the passion eased, she slid down to his side. Her hand lay over his chest, right over his heart. And he didn’t speak because he knew what tomorrow would bring: the face-off with his stepbrother. The last round of questions. The future.