Ghostwalker 08 - Street Game

walking into something dangerous, I expected you to talk it over with me first, to at least listen to what I had to say.” She sat on the edge of the desk, barefoot, inhaling the scent of sex and his skin. She loved the way he smelled.
    Masculine and edgy, usually combined with sex.
    She’d missed him. Missed everything about him. Especially the sex. And yet, their sex together, as great as it had been, had never been close to what he’d just given her.
    She’d missed that look in his eyes just before he kissed her. He was incredibly strong, but he’d never once hurt her, not even when they were making wild love and he seemed ruthless and out of control. His touch with her was gentle. She loved that about him, his care of her. Was she just wanting too much? Did she need too much?
    Mack stepped into her, reaching for her thighs as if he owned her. As if he knew his touch made her weak. He spread her thighs and moved between her legs. Up close.
    He loomed over the top of her, making her feel small and vulnerable and fragile. She knew she wasn’t, but he still made her feel that way. She’d always loved him. Now she couldn’t look at him without craving him. She could taste him in her mouth, breathe him in her lungs.
    “Mack.” She whispered his name. A plea.
    “I’m not letting you go, Jaimie. We’ll work it out. Whatever you need. I’ll figure it out. Just cut me a little slack. I’m never going to get over you walking out on me.
    You shook me up and I’m still dealing with it.”
    “Anger.”
    “Damn right.” He curled his fingers around the nape of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “Damn right I’m angry.” The words hissed out between his teeth. “I think of you with other men. I obsess about it. Your mouth on someone else. Someone else inside of you.” He took a breath like a man drowning. “You’re part of me. Bone deep, Jaimie. You can’t just think you can walk out and it’s going to be okay. You could have come back anytime, but you didn’t. I thought . . .”
    “What?” There were tears in her voice. “That I’d come crawling back, broken?”
    Alone.
    Torn apart inside. Unable to sleep or eat or care.

    146

    “That you’d see we were meant to be together. That you’d find out you wanted me.” There was hurt in his voice. Pain.
    That took her breath away. His pain. She could feel it now. Sharp. Terrible. “Of course I wanted you, Mack. We never had a problem with wanting each other. It’s the more we have trouble with.”
    Something flickered in the depths of his eyes and her stomach flipped. She caught a glimpse of his anger. Deep. Bone deep. The way he said she was wrapped inside of him. She’d never been afraid of Mack, not even for a small instant. Sometimes the intensity of their lovemaking scared her, but never Mack.
    “Work it out with me, Jaimie.”
    How could she hold her ground with him? He’d always managed to do this to her.
    He overwhelmed her and she gave in and nothing changed between them. “I’ll try, Mack,” she whispered, feeling like she was giving him her soul.
    He found her mouth and took her. That easily. He tasted of male and sex. A sinful pleasure that streaked like lightning through her veins, sizzling, taking her breath. She knew what he meant when he called her an addiction. That was what he was to her.
    She craved him, the taste and scent of him, the feel of him. His laughter and his strength. He was everything to her. He always would be.
    “What am I to you?” she murmured against his mouth.
    Obsession. Addiction.
    The words shimmered in her mind. A blanket of resentment. A wealth of possession. She couldn’t find love. If he let himself think it, he didn’t acknowledge it.
    If he let himself feel it, he refused to show her. Anger. He was so angry.
    Jaimie pushed at his chest. “We’d better go.”
    Mack stepped back away from her, out of the light and into the shadows where she couldn’t see his face. Where she couldn’t see his body tremble or his hands shake.
    Tiny red dots appeared, clustered over Mack’s heart on his bare chest. A second cluster appeared centered between his eyes. Jaimie gasped and froze. Mack stilled, one hand sliding under his shirt at the small of his back as he looked up. Eight grim-faced men stared at him from across the room, guns drawn and aimed.
    “You want to tell me what you’re doing with our sister?” Ethan demanded.
    “Because it doesn’t look good from where I’m