Ghostwalker 04 - Conspiracy Game

her body, of its own accord, melted into his. She tried to bite his hand, self-preservation stronger than her fear of retaliation.
    “Stop it,” he hissed, his mouth so close to her ear she felt his lips moving against her earlobe. “You’re going to get someone killed.”
    She stopped struggling, and he removed his hand from her mouth, but didn’t let her go, pressing his body closer into hers. He was rock hard, his body without any give to it, no soft spots, and his erection seemed merciless, a thick, long bulge pressed tightly into her flesh.
    “It’s not real. It’s just chemistry,” Briony said desperately. Her own body ached, dampened, breasts too full and nipples too hard. Lust curled through her relentlessly, thick and needful, making her body throb and her womb clench. “It isn’t real.”
    “It’s so fucking real, baby, I want to pick you up, wrap your legs around my waist, and bury myself deep inside you right here. Right now.” His voice roughened. “I can taste you in my mouth. I’m breathing you in with every breath I take. Don’t tell me it isn’t like that for you. It’s real and we both know it.”
    She struggled again, this time more against her own body, than him. There was no controlling the fierce physical attraction arcing between them. It was electric, all consuming, crackling in the air around them, the intensity so strong, he actually shifted her in his arms, turning her around, his mouth coming down hard on hers. She was lost, the waves of need so powerful she thought she might die if she didn’t have him.
    His tongue swept into her mouth, and there was nothing teasing or gentle about his kiss.
    It was purely dominant, commanding, taking her over until Briony was swept into a world of sensuality as his hands roamed possessively over her body and then cupped her breasts beneath the shirt, finding soft bare skin.
    Jack abruptly jerked his head away from her, swearing eloquently. “Stop it. Stop crying.
    Damn it, Briony, I haven’t hurt you. Why the hell are you crying?” His hands framed her face, and he stared down into her wet eyes and spiky eyelashes before bending to taste her tears.
    Even that small gesture was impossibly intimate, sexual, his mouth tracing the path of her tears. She felt the light touch of his lips on her face all the way through her body.
    “Stop,” he pleaded again, more gently. “Come on, baby, you’re just tired. Maybe I was a little rough, but I couldn’t have hurt you.”
    Briony hadn’t been aware that she was sobbing. She was only aware of her body, so unfulfilled, so needy. The craving for Jack was like a terrible claw scraping her raw, tearing at her insides, yet all the while her brain screamed a warning, screamed she didn’t really matter to him—or he to her. A madman had performed an experiment and they were the results. Two people in heat like animals. She was disgusted with herself.
    She couldn’t blame Jack Norton, even if she wanted him to assume the responsibility—
    which she didn’t. He couldn’t help his reaction to her any more than she could hers to him.
    “Don’t you see what he’s done to us? He’s taken away everything. We won’t ever have a chance at a family. At love and marriage and all the things that matter in life. Once we’re away from one another, do you think this is going to stop? This terrible craving? It’s an addiction. He’s managed to make us into addicts for one another. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it night and day ever since you left. He’s taken our lives away from us and made us into mindless animals.”
    Jack pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him, wrapping his arms around her head as she sobbed against his chest. The sound wrenched at his heart and wreaked havoc with his normally nonexistent emotions. Hell. The woman was going to make him into a wuss. He put his head down on hers, holding her tighter. “Stop it, baby. You’re going to make yourself sick. None of that matters right now. We’re here and we can make our life whatever we want it to be. He isn’t going to get our child.” He put his mouth against her ear to whisper. “You hear me? He isn’t ever going to take our child from us and experiment on it.”
    She lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry. It must be all the hormones. I’m not usually such a crybaby.”

    His fingers tangled in her thick hair. She looked so forlorn, her eyes too big for her face, still