Northern Lights

and I would, the way I'm feeling right now."
    "You don't scare me. You got me all churned up, spoiling for a fight. All of a sudden, I'm spoiling for something else. Give me something else." She reached up, ran her hand down his chest. "We'll finish fighting after."
    "I'm not feeling friendly."
    "Me, either. Nate, sometimes you just need something else. Just need to go somewhere else and forget for a little while. Burn up some of the mad or the hurt or the scared. Burn me up," she murmured. She gripped his hips now, squeezed.
    She'd have been better off if he'd pushed her away. He was sure of it. But he yanked her toward him, so that warm, wet body collided with his, so he could find her mouth, ravage it.
    She clamped around him, hooking her arms up his back so her fingers could dig into his shoulders. Nails biting flesh. The heat pumped out of her, and it reached his bones, seared through them, scoring away the tired and the cold line of anger.
    Her hands streaked down him again, wet against wet, and her head dropped back to invite him to feast on her throat, her shoulders, anywhere he could find that soft, warm flesh.
    The sound she made, the sound that simmered against his lips was one of erotic triumph.
    "Here." She slid the soap out of the slot. "Let's clean you up. I like the feel of a man's back under my hands. Especially when it's all wet and slippery."
    She had a voice like a siren. He let her use it on him, use her hands on him, let her think she was guiding him. When he pushed her back to the shower wall, the sleepy look in her eyes sharpened with surprise.
    When she started to smile, he crushed his mouth to hers.
    She'd been right, she thought dimly. He was someone else, someone who took control, ruthlessly. Who took away choice, who could make her surrender it.
    Even as his mouth took possession of hers, he twisted the soap from her hand. He ran it over her breasts, long, teasing strokes that had her nipples aching. Her breath trembled out in a sigh.
    The tickle low in her belly told her she was ready. That she wanted. She needed. Rubbing her lips down the side of his neck, she murmured to him. "It's good with you. It's good. Be inside me now. Come inside me."
    "You'll scream first."
    She laughed, nipped—not so gently. "No, I won't."
    "Yes." He hauled her arms over her head, cuffed her wrists with one hand. Pinned them there. "You will."
    He slid the soap between her legs, rubbing it, sliding it, watching her as her body shuddered to orgasm.
    "Nate."
    "I warned you."
    Something like panic lit inside her, panic quickly tangled with razoredged pleasure as his fingers dipped inside her. She twisted, looking for freedom, for more. For him. But he drove her, past the point she could hold it, past the point she thought she could bear it. Her breath sobbed out, half-mad pleas as the water poured hot over her shaking body, as the steam blurred her vision.
    When it burst in her, ripping a line between sanity and madness, he muffled her scream with his mouth.
    "Say my name." He had to hear it, had to know she knew who had her. "Say my name," he ordered as he hoisted her by the hips and buried himself inside her.
    "Nate."
    "Again. Say it again." His breath was raw in his throat. "Look at me, and say my name."
    "Nate." She fisted a hand in his hair, dug her fingers into his shoulder. She looked at his face, looked into his eyes. And saw him, saw herself. "Nate."
    He took her, took her, took her until he was empty, until she was limp as water, her head dropped on his shoulder.
    He had to brace a hand on the wet wall to catch his breath, to catch himself. He fumbled for the tap to shut off the shower.
    "I need to sit down," she managed. "I really need to sit down."
    "Hold on a minute." Because he wasn't sure she would, he boosted her up, half slinging her over his shoulder as he levered them out of the shower.
    He grabbed a couple of towels, though he imagined with the heat they'd generated, the water would steam off them in a matter of minutes.
    The dogs got to their feet when he walked into the bedroom with her. "Better tell your pals you're okay."
    "What?"
    "The dogs, Meg. Reassure your dogs before they decide I've knocked you unconscious."
    "Rock, Bull, relax." She all but dripped out of his arms when he laid her on the bed. "My head's buzzing."
    "Better try to dry off." He dropped one of the towels on her belly. "I'll get you a shirt or something."
    She didn't bother to dry off, but only lay there enjoying the