“What about you?” he countered, nodding at her left shoulder. “You’re not at a hundred percent this time either.”
“I know.” A little smile played about her lips as she edged forward and reached up to place her hands on his shoulders.
Her nearness threatened his control, her luscious scent intoxicating him. He grasped her hips through the trench coat, holding her away from him. “Then don’t do this. Don’t let your need for revenge cloud your judgment. Let someone else handle Tarasov.”
Her smile vanished, and a flare of anger flashed in her eyes. “No.” Her voice was calm. Her tone final. “He’s mine.”
“God dammit,” he exploded, releasing her and stepping back a pace to glare at her. “We’ve already been through this, once when you went after Rahman, and then again during the attack here. How can you be so selfish, to put me—us—through this again? Expect me to sit back and watch you risk your life again?”
“Marcus, stop,” she warned, shaking her head. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Then bloody listen to me!”
“I have listened. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
Holding his gaze, her hands moved to the top button on her coat. His whole body tensed, twin spears of arousal and anger hitting him as he realized what she was about to do.
He shook his head, jaw bunching. “Don’t.” His voice was low, rough.
Not like this. He wouldn’t touch her when he was like this, so close to losing control. Not after everything she’d suffered at the hands of men before him.
He backed up another step, his hip butting up against the wall.
She didn’t stop, her hungry stare magnifying the turmoil inside him. Testing him. Pushing him, when he was already riding the edge.
Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away as her fingers slipped the first button free, then immediately moved to the next. And the next. Exposing a thin strip of golden-toned skin as she went. Until she reached the last one and the halves of the coat finally parted to reveal her naked body beneath.
Air hissed between his teeth in a painful rush, all his anger and frustration and fear colliding with a towering wave of desire. His body was pulled as tight as a tripwire, lust coiling low in his gut, blending with a dark possessiveness that made his heart pound.
He didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t dare unleash what was happening inside him.
She stepped closer, eyes on his, and deliberately pulled the edges of the coat back, thrusting her perfect breasts out.
Marcus sucked in a sharp breath, his already hard cock pulsing. Aching for her. She was so close he could smell her. A light, sensual blend of floral and spice. And that bold look in her liquid dark eyes.
Challenging him. No, daring him to take what he wanted.
Watching him, she lifted a hand and slowly drew the pad of her index finger down the side of his beard-roughened cheek. Down his throat to the V above the neckline of his shirt. Over his right pec, skimming the nipple on her way to his shoulder and down his arm to grasp his hand.
His pulse thudded, his breathing harsh in the enclosed space of the tack room. Thunder growled again in the distance, the drumming rain echoing through the stable. But he was only aware of her, and this seething, crackling energy between them about to break.
Kiyomi curled her fingers around his hand. He didn’t dare move, hardly dared to breathe, his cock as rigid as the rest of him as he stared at their joined hands. Watched her bring them toward her, and he was powerless to resist.
He held his breath, his body coiled and ready to spring.
The second his palm curled around that perfect breast, the last thread tethering him to his control snapped.
Unleashing the demons tormenting him, he grabbed her and spun them around, lifting her off the floor to pin her against the wall, her bare mound pressed to the ridge of his trapped erection and her bare breasts poised inches away from his mouth. His wife at his mercy.
She stilled, a tiny gasp escaping her at the abrupt movement, but then she wound her bare legs around his thighs, her pupils dilating. Becoming pools of naked want as her tongue came out to drag across her tempting lower lip.
Something dark and territorial expanded in his gut as he pinned her there, ignoring the ache in his hip. She’d driven him to this, made him insane with need and frustration.
She’d started this fire. Now they would both burn in the flames.
“You’re mine, Kiyomi,” he growled, and captured that tempting mouth with his.
Chapter Ten
Kiyomi gasped into his mouth, caught off guard by the abrupt move, even as a thrill ripped through her at the dominant way he handled her. He was always so careful with her, especially during sex, and he’d never let her feel the full extent of his strength before.
He broke the kiss to stare at her, breathing hard, the muscles in his jaw standing out.
Arousal pumped through her body at the primal desire she read on his face. Felt it in the bite of his hands on her hips and in the taut, bunched muscles across his shoulders as he held her against the wall, the fabric of her long trench protecting her back from the rough wood.
Through the layer of cloth, she felt the thick, hard length of his erection pressing against her bare folds. His body was rigid, nostrils flared, and volcanic heat burned in his dark eyes.
She pulled in a breath and deliberately softened. Submitting to him and this charged moment. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her clit throbbing and her nipples beading tight.
His molten gaze dropped to them, standing at attention just inches from his face. Abruptly he shifted his grip to wrap a muscular arm under her ass, lifting her against the wall as his other hand came up to cup her breast as he bent his head toward her.
She clenched her fingers around the tops of his rock-hard shoulders and arched her back, a soft moan spilling from her when his hot, wet mouth closed over the rigid peak. Pleasure spiraled down to her core.
Instead of fighting it as she would have months ago, she gave into it and let it flow through her. Something that was much easier now than when they’d first gotten together. He would never hurt or humiliate her. Her trust in him had allowed her to open herself up, let herself be vulnerable and actually feel.
Marcus switched to the other nipple and lowered her feet to the ground, his hands gripping her hips tight as he dropped to one knee before her. She could feel the heat of his stare on her sex. He took hold of the back of her leg and lifted it, wrapping it over his shoulder to expose her flushed, slick folds, his gaze searing her.
She had only enough time to draw in a breath before the velvet warmth of his mouth closed over her, his tongue flicking at the swollen bud of her clit.
“Marcus,” she whispered, knotting her fingers in his short hair. The kneeling position was hard on his injured hip. It had to hurt, but he gave no indication of it and stayed right where he was, his hands holding her still while his tongue stroked across the taut bundle of nerves over and over, giving her exactly the right pressure and friction. He was an expert at bringing her pleasure, knew every secret of her body.
She rolled her hips, rocking against his tongue. It felt so damn good, the urgency of it, the bite of his fingers into her flesh contrasted with the warm, velvet strokes of his tongue heightening everything. Her core contracted, her bones beginning to melt as ecstasy spiraled up, up—