The first thing Sam had ever noticed about the middle of the desert was the silence. To him, so used to the heartbeat of the sea growing up, meeting the stillness of the desert was like getting acquainted with an entirely new person. The totality of it was like an entity of its own, reclining serenely across the barren section of desert into which he’d just landed the helo.

After he got out and then jogged around the chopper to help Jen down too, she didn’t step back from his embrace. Despite everythin’ they’d shared back at the Scene just last night, the moment felt as foreign as the wilderness over which they both peered.

At last, Jen coaxed his gaze down to her with the gentle tug of one hand. “What is it?” she whispered into the few inches between their faces.

Sam lifted her fingertips to his lips. “This wasn’t exactly a scheduled stop on the tour—nor was this the way you’d been plannin’ to spend your evenin’.” He intensified his study of her, across the juncture of his mouth upon her skin. “Just makin’ sure you’re all right with bein’ a bit of a hijack victim is all.”

She kicked the corners of her mouth up. Just the corners—though that was enough to reassure him that he hadn’t completely mucked this all up. That perhaps now, nearly twenty-four hours after she’d fled their room at Scene, she’d had a chance to rethink where she’d gone with the effort at bein’ “responsible” about all this. There was responsible, and then there was just overreaction. But sometimes, it took an overture to overcome an overreaction. So he’d decided to overture like fuck. And the look on her face, with the breeze liftin’ the hair from her face and the stars illuminating every dazzling green depth in her dancing eyes, made him recognize the decision exactly for what it was.

I’m a fuckin’ genius.

And she’s the most breathakin’ woman on this entire goddamned planet.

“Hijack away, Captain.” She added a laugh that only enhanced her natural beauty, but when he let her hand slip away so he could see her better in the dim light, her features sobered. “What is it now, Sam?”

He ticked his head, indicating his deeper consideration of the question. “You…look different out here. Almost as if you belong in all this wilderness and wind.”

Another gentle tug of her lips. “Well, it’s not a foreign planet to me, if that’s what you mean.” She turned her gaze out across the vast plain. “I live in the city now but get out to the more open parts of the valley whenever I can. The vastness of the desert…it’s daunting yet comforting. When you feel small, you’re able to recognize your place in the bigger picture of things, you know?”

The woman could have dropped to her knees and offered to service him then and there and not gotten him more enervated. He felt like bellowin’ out his next words, though they ended up fallin’ out with the profound awe he actually felt. “That’s the way I feel when hikin’ through Glencoe.” He chuckled at himself before amending, “And up in the Shetlands. And atop the Cairngorms.”

“Yes, yes, and yes. I want to visit them all.”

“You do?” He crunched a perplexed scowl. “You…know all those places?”

Her tiny smirk was also better than an offer of a blowjob. “In case you don’t know already, I’m kind of a fan of Scottish hunks—and their homeland.”

“As well as the beauty of your own.” He guided the subject back to the here and now because it was too damn easy to think of her in sexy hikin’ togs, leadin’ him up through the Three Sisters with a follow-me-and-then-fuck-me look on her gorgeous face. And all too easily, he could imagine doin’ exactly that…

“Indeed, the beauty of my own,” she echoed with a pretty smile. “Thanks to summers at my Aunt Fran and Uncle Chris’s ranch out up Kingston and the cute boy who led the hiking club in high school.”

“Aha,” Sam quipped, scooping up her hand once more. This time, there was distinct purpose to the move. He started leadin’ the way toward what looked like a sizable storage shed, about forty yards away. “Now I know who I’m up against.”

“Well…he was a sexy ginger,” she returned, easily keepin’ up with his long strides. “And, from what I could tell, packing some nice heat under his hiking gear.”

He halted long enough to ensure she registered his narrowed gaze—but ignored her sweet giggle while tryin’ to wrap his follow-up query in a nonchalant tone. “But you…never found out? About his…um…heat, I mean.”

“You mean did I tap that shit with Heath the Hot Hiking Man?” She deliberately nudged him, ruthless in her razzin’ about his poorly veiled dig for details. “Well, that would be a huge negative, Captain,” she supplied conversationally. “Heath carried a torch for one woman only. Her name was Mattie Lesange.”

He scuffed to a new stop. Jen succumbed to a brighter giggle.

“Well, now this is gettin’ juicy.”

She shrugged. “Well, I wish I had more juice to share than that. I only know that right before senior prom, she broke his heart.”

“Hmmmph,” Sam returned, starting the trek toward the structure once more. They were close enough now to see the aluminum siding of the big shed, reflecting different textures of gray and silver in the moonlight. “Served that roaster right, then. He should have recognized the jewel right in front of him.”

“Well, we were in high school.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been that ‘roaster’ before, Captain Mackenna.”

He didn’t squeeze her back. Instead, he worked their hands differently so he could lock her fingers between his—linkin’ her so solidly in his grasp, she wouldn’t doubt a damn syllable of the confession he gave her now. “Never had a jewel like you in front of me, mouse.”

She said nothing else.

But he felt her take the words in as if he stood still and watched it happen.

And he reveled in the flow of happiness that emanated from every pore of her, until they were standing directly in front of the large steel structure.

Only then did Sam turn and look back down at her.

She wasn’t waiting with a responding stare for him. Instead, her scrutiny was directed up at the building. He didn’t begrudge a twinge of the uneasiness in her eyes. All on its own, the building gave off an aura of visceral creepiness.

“So…” She drew the vowel out, lilting it up and then down, clearly attempting an infusion of humor to the strangely heavy air. “Should I prepare for the jump scare now or when we get inside? And are we doing Jason Voorhees or Freddie Krueger? Probably Freddie, yeah? Doesn’t Jason need a lake?”

Though Sam chuckled his way into it, he cut her short with a hard smack on her lips. He was pure tempted to keep going from there, if only to show her his gratitude for flyin’ in and reopenin’ such a shuttered part of his soul, but he was eager to get her inside—where the second part of his surprises for the night lay in wait.

Thankfully, she followed him inside the shed with no further hypothesizin’ about men with knives in hockey masks. The only thing she did comment on were the pair of pretty benches out in front, freshly painted in a Mykonos blue and sportin’ little holes in their bases as insertion points for optional sunshades. Though he’d only been in Vegas for a couple of weeks, Sam already knew the coverings were essentials if anyone was goin’ to be out here between June and September.

The door was secured by a padlock, which Sam released with a key from a ring in his pocket. Once inside, he reached for light switches and found them right where Frank had told him they’d be.

As the illumination kicked in, Jen took her first step across the threshold.

Then halted.

Then gasped.

“Whoa.”

Sam cocked his head. “Okay.” And emulated her drawl on the vowel, though definitely not with the same flair she possessed for off-the-cuff mirth. “Does that mean…you like it?”

“Does the Starkiller dwarf the Death Star?”

And had she really just said that? And was this him, still holdin’ back from plungin’ a hand into his own chest and givin’ her the whole of his hopelessly smitten heart?

Instead, he took delight in watchin’ her peer around the whole place. It was damn near a designer showroom, with no sign of the aluminum walls from outside. The interior space was walled in polished wood, reflecting warm hues beneath the bright track lighting. A stacked-stone fireplace was surrounded by big leather couches draped in thick throw blankets, all but begging for someone to curl up in them with a good novel and a glass of wine. The open-plan kitchen—separated from the main room by a wide bar framed by wrought-iron stools—was small but outfitted with up-to-the-minute appliances. The same industrial motif defined a spiral staircase to their left, leading to a loft bedroom.

“Whoa,” she repeated after well over a minute of gawking.

Sam nodded. “Same thing I said when Frank showed me snaps of the place.” His counterpart from the USAF squad was a decent but enigmatic guy. Despite his Thor-hot looks, he’d never kept a girlfriend longer than three months.

“Is this place his?” She threw a sardonic look over her shoulder. “And if he’s coming all the way out here to do the deed, how is he holding on to any woman?”

“It’s not entirely his.” Sam sidestepped any more discussion about Frank and his shag count. “It began as a way station for miners but sat empty until the nineteen forties, when Nellis came into its own as a base. An officer bought the property and refurbished it as a place for him and his mates to unwind, away from the constant noise of the base.”

Jen slid a teasing smile as he tugged her across the room. “Noisy? Why, we’re just a bunch of sweet little…mice.”

Though he tossed back a wink, he kept the rest of his face placid. He liked the tiny skitter of arousal that caused across her features, though. “When the man passed on, he willed all of it to his squadron. It’s remained that way through the years, with everyone pitchin’ in for upkeep and renovations.”

“The booty-call commune, eh?”

Though she emphasized with a tinklin’ laugh, Sam again didn’t match her mien. Instead, with focused somberness, he stopped and turned back toward her. “I’ve never been here, mouse.”

Jenny brushed a gentle hand down his arm. “Not even to get away with your secret thoughts?”

“My secret thoughts and I haven’t been on speakin’ terms for a while.” He didn’t give her a chance to reply. While flashin’ her a refreshed smile, he relaced their fingers. “Want to see the upstairs?”

Jen resisted. “Sam—”

“Drop it.” He locked his visual deflectors firmly back into place. Even if the woman dug in and insisted on a “talk,” it would get her nowhere. But luckily, she clearly wanted to see the rest of this place. So did he. Everythin’ was stunning. Several generations of men had put their unique touches into the place. Sam was humbled to be here.

Humbled…and aroused.

As. Fuck.

The loft contained another plush sofa and a huge, gorgeous bed. A chocolate-colored comforter was spread over the bed, with equally luxurious pillows outfitted in soft white shams. On the other side of the room, a spacious bathroom possessed a huge Roman tub.

Sam deliberately lingered.

But Jen didn’t.

“Wow,” she blurted, already turning back toward the stairs with a forced smile plastered on her lips. “It’s very…errrmmm…nice.”

“Nice.” Sam echoed it on a chuckle he kept cryptic. “Well, Frank tells me that’s only the start.”

“What do you—”

Sam stopped her short by flipping the switch in the wall next to him, also exactly where Frank said it would be. As soon as he hit the lever, the wall trembled. And then the wall next to it, along with the floor. A high-pitched whir consumed the air, making the whole chamber feel transformed into a freight elevator. He was happy to know the impression wasn’t solely his, as soon as Jenny let out a yelp and practically leapt into his arms. She clung to him even harder as the roof started moving.

No. Sliding.

Holy hell. He expressed as much in an amazed gasp before murmuring in soft amazement, “This is pure barry.”

The “light switch” he’d flipped was actually an activation button that ordered the roof to retract, revealing a skylight the size of the entire bed, exposing the billion stars in the sky overhead. A smaller door retracted directly over the bathtub.

Lights? Who the hell needed lights?

The answer to that was as easy as rememberin’ the rest of Frank’s instructions and punching the second button in the wall—which doused all the track lighting over the main room.

At once, Jenny let her purse plummet to the floor. Her jaw dropped the same direction. “Oh my…wow.”

In the sudden darkness, the stars seemed to zoom closer. And though Sam had flown so close to those miniature suns, through night skies a lot like this one, it had to be one of the most dazzlin’ sights of his life.

Entirely because of the beauty by his side.

With her head jerked back, her gaze full of wide wonderment, and her mouth parted in a delighted smile, Sam swore he could have goggled at her for as long as she wanted to gawk at the sky. But though his soul swore the oath, his cock was already fashin’ hard about it. Hard. Bloody tadger felt like every damn star in that firmament had fallen through the glass roof, embedded itself beneath his flesh, and was now twinkle-twinklin’ the shit out of his achin’ flesh.

That was before Jen made it all worse—and better—in one perfect swoop.

With a sigh of mesmerizin’ delight, the woman slowly turned away from him. Not on purpose. She was just so dazzled by the spectral light show, she forgot where she was even standin’—

Until she wasn’t standin’ anymore.

The bed was right there, her perfect excuse to simply flop back and better enjoy the spectral panorama through the window. The second she was down, she released another huge gasp and reached a hand up toward the sky. “Holy crap. It looks like it could all just ripple at my touch.”

Sam allowed himself a low, satisfied rumble. He walked to the edge of the bed but didn’t join her on it. Right now, with the meteor shower in his pants, just the idea of it was epic daft. He forced his mind toward the opposite end of the mental spectrum. Dirty gear grease. Post office lines. Frank’s belching version of “Uptown Funk.”

No use. The star shower still raced up and down his cock. Did she know? Did she see how hard he battled to stay chivalrous, when thoughts of attackin’ her here and now were like a thousand exploding suns in his senses? That all he could think about was fitting every inch of himself against her delectable softness before makin’ love to her for hours beneath that canopy of endless stars? That he wanted to watch the soft glow of them reflect in the emerald glory of her eyes until the mists of arousal clouded them over?

Before she started screamin’ for him.

And beggin’ to him.

Pleadin’ for him to finish her off…

And he would. So gladly. Kissin’ her everywhere outside as he fucked her everywhere inside…

It was really time to step away from the bloody bed.

Except the woman herself had him doubling back on his intention again. This time, with hardly any movement at all. She merely pushed up to her elbows, hardly aware of what she’d done to push her gorgeous breasts so tight inside her silky top. A blouse with delicate pearl buttons that would probably slip free of their nooses with one easy twist of his fingers…

Think about Frank’s belchin’. Or mission debriefs that last forever. Or reality TV.

“This. Is. Outrageous.” Her declaration, along with her impish grin, detailed exactly how she intended the word—and effectively banished every belchin’ fortification from his mind. As warmth suffused his chest and heat kept torturin’ his toorie, his legs had suddenly turned to blocks of lead. He couldn’t leave the side of the mattress if the fuckin’ place caught afire.

So he did what any self-respectin’ Highlander would do.

Butted a hip against the thing and then folded his arms like a cocky genie. “I had a bit of a ken you’d like it.”

“Bullshit,” Jen volleyed. “You had a little ‘ken’ I’d love it.”

As she tacked on a spurtin’ little laugh, he opened his mouth to whip back somethin’ just as lippy, but the universe had other plans. The universe—or heaven itself. Or maybe hell. He had no fuckin’ clue, nor the inclination to dissect the whole matter, since he was still dealin’ with the bollocks blast of sheer, insane emotion that hit him before the woman could even finish with her adorable giggle. As if fate itself had retracted the roof of his goddamned heart, Sam couldn’t escape the resplendence and fullness of what he felt for this woman…

What he’d always feel for her.

Dear, bloody fuck.

He wasn’t just in love with her.

He was utterly, permanently smitten.

Bound to her.

Blinded by her.

As metaphors went, nothing could have been more perfect, since the backs of his eyes cooperated with a pure fine burn. It worsened as he gazed down at her, takin’ in the dark-green sheen in her irises that betrayed her own soppy battle.

They were both helpless and motionless, gaping and gulping and fighting this lunatic pull of their minds and hearts and souls, silent yet potent as a star about to go supernova. Their silent but catastrophic gift to the cosmos. Nothing would ever be the same again. They’d never be the same again.

“Shit.” Like the amazin’ warrior she was, Jen shattered their silence first. All she could do was rasp, but every intonation tore into his heart like a scalpel soaked in tears. “Shit. Sam.”

The hitch in her voice caused the snag in his breath.

“Jenny,” he finally growled.

Oh aye, he did growl. And along with it brought one knee up to the mattress so he could loom over and then in, threading all five fingers of one hand into her wind-tossed waves. Tellin’ her, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t afraid to really do this…to fly into the explosion with her. But she had to be willing to face it too. She had to make him throw that lever for lightspeed. She had to show him…somehow…

“Somehow” got its answer fast. Thank fuck. He had no idea what spurred her to push up a little more, turnin’ her face against his palm, but the simple beauty of it felt like the fulfillment of his destiny—even if all destiny was going to give them was right now. He’d take it. Every ragin’, ravishin’, punishin’, perfect second of it.

Like the one in which she abandoned the frame of his hand…and turned her face toward the bulge in his crotch. And then rested her mouth on it. And then sweetly, silently, deliberately leaned in—until she was biting at the stiff fabric.

“Jenny.”

He wasn’t sure if he groaned it or sobbed it. He was damn sure that definition didn’t matter. Were definitions even a pertinent concern once the world seized on its fuckin’ axis? Because nothin’—not a damn bloody thing—was more vibrant or relevant or important than what she blatantly offered with that dulcet nip of her gorgeous lips. For the first time in years, every fuckin’ thing in his senses—the memories, the anger, the frustration, the loss—was gone, phased into nonexistence by his utter need to feel all of this, to connect to all of this.

To build a bridge over all the leaves in his crazy waters.

So he could get back to her.

Only, always now, to her.

“Jenny.” His voice wasn’t any stronger, but at least his touch was. Somehow, he found her scalp again and dug his grip in harder against the back of her head. In response, she smiled against his throbbing center. Cheeky minx. His precious mouse…

“Oh dear fuck.” And now, apparently, the shrewd lover who’d already gotten the drift about how he liked her teeth against his denim too. “Woman…when you take my banger like that…shit! Jenny!”

“Ssshhh.” She grabbed his empty belt loops, yanking him closer.

“Wait. Wait.” He moaned it but had to shove even that into his throat for the volume. But the interruption wasn’t negotiable. Because he needed to be clear with her before she bloody near made him jizz in his jeans with the magic of her talented teeth. Talented teeth? How was that even a thing? And how did he not know by now that any fuckin’ thing was possible with this glorious goddess? Fighting back what his brain did with that imagery, he managed to spurt, “Mouse. I…I really didn’t bring you out here to—”

“I know that, Sam.”

“I—I have the highest respect for you, Jennifer Josephine.” Which he might have indulged a good skoosh of laughter about, if his intention wasn’t purely serious. Even so, he had to be the world’s biggest wanker, tryin’ the fuckin’ line on the woman he adored while her mouth was makin’ best friends with his cock through his zip.

“All right.” She threw away a bit of her coy pout, instead makin’ room for an irritated moue. “So…you don’t want to, Sir Galahad?”

Well, that made his scowl hellishly easy. “Galahad is fictional. And English.”

“Okay. So, you don’t want to, Sir Robert the Bruce?”

He caressed her cheek, unfurling an approving smile. “I didn’t say that.”

“Hmmm. No.” And the minx was back again—now taking the initiative to twist the button beneath her mouth free. “You certainly didn’t.”

At once, he felt his smile drop. Bloody hard for a man to keep grinnin’ when a woman had her face an inch from his crotch and was workin’ down the zip that would free his throbbin’ tadger.

And was lickin’ her way through his short and curlies along the way.

“Jenny. By everythin’ that’s fuckin’ holy…”

“Psssshhh.” She pushed the zipper all the way down to its base. That aligned her fingertips with his baws—a fact she took full, naughty advantage of. “There’s nothing holy about you, Sam Mackenna. And I want to explore it all.”

He couldn’t manage anythin’ more than a taut groan as she stroked his tender sack, taking sweet little nips at the flesh just beneath. She slipped her other hand up beneath his shirt, roller-coastering her fingertips over the ridges of his abs before descending her mesmerizin’ touch again. Her nails scraped into his skin, following the seam of muscle down into his thrummin’ crotch, where she played with the nest from which his cock sprang like a proud pine in a dense forest. But not for long. She trailed her hand upward again, and this time Sam helped her by shucking the shirt all the way. He rolled onto the bed, sighing roughly while letting her caress and claim him in any manner her pleasure took her.

Holy God.

Her mind-blowin’ pleasure…

His whole body quaked as her hands came back to center. This time, she flowed her touch up and over his cock, rubbing him from balls to crown with steady, sure exploration. Along the way, she’d let a finger or two wander off from the straight line of her hand to follow the jagged curves of his veins, which pulsed at his skin with increasin’ demand.

“You’re so beautiful,” she breathed.

“You’re so incredible,” Sam whispered back.

“You make me feel powerful.”

“And you make me feel helpless.” His voice cracked on the declaration, but he didn’t care. He hiked his hips, seeking her touch with the brazen need of a mongrel craving an ear scratch. Only this was more than an itch. This was raw, relentless, ragin’ need. “Don’t stop. For the love of fuck, don’t stop.”

She didn’t, thank all that was holy—but after she teased and tormented him longer than he should have allowed, Sam finally twisted his hand against her scalp again. With another yank, he snapped her head back until it was possible to sweep the brunt of his gaze over her. She took his breath away. Her stare was glazed with lust, and her chest was pumping with full breaths. But he wasn’t prepared for the moment she parted her lips and then stuck her tongue between them, as if starving for every drop of the white drops that burst from the throbbin’ slit at his erect tip.

“So what will I say now, darlin’?” His voice was just as hot and molten as the liquid pearls on his dick. “You know, don’t you?”

“I can hope.” She whispered it as soon as he jerked his hips again, dealin’ as best he could with the white rockets burstin’ out his cockhead. He never knew he had this much to give in precome. Already, he wondered what this orgasm was going to be like. Jesus Christ, he already needed to come…so fuckin’ bad…

And damn it if the gorgeous woman, with her uncanny erotic ESP, didn’t know that—and fully capitalize on it.

By keepin’ her gaze firmly locked to his…

While dippin’ her mouth back in and formin’ her pretty lips over the top of him.

Just the top.

That was enough.

More than enough.

Sam growled. Long and low and hard. Used his other hand to shove his jeans down to his thighs. Thank God he’d gotten hopeful after his shower and chosen to go commando. With all of his sex officially free, his cock bobbed up stronger and stiffer than ever, the tip weeping all over again with the evidence of his need. And aye, he had even more precome to spare as soon as Jenny glided her nose down to his base, inhalin’ with open greed and appreciation. Her own scent curled around his senses too, all sugar and wind and woman, fillin’ him until he felt damn near like a god.

She breathed him in once more before adding the sorcery of her mouth back to her slow, sweet worship. With wet, adoring nips, she made her way back up his steel-hard stalk. With a breathtakin’ sigh, she closed herself all the way back over his tip again. Then out came her tongue—just the tip—working all the way into his slit, cleaning out his juices until a whole galaxy of stars invaded Sam’s brain as well.

“Jenny. Oh, my sweet and fuckin’ sexy little mouse. Your mouth. Your incredible, hot mouth…”

“Not as incredible as how you taste.”

Though she pulled up to give him the words, she didn’t stray her lips from his flesh for a second. The vibrations of her words against her tip…and then the way she finished them, adding the one and only word that could completely undo him…

“Sir.”

Fuck.

He was a god.

And now needed to prove it—by spreading his grip along the back of her head and guiding her mouth into the most perfect position possible…

Aye…

“Open your mouth, Jenny.”

Ohhhh, aye…

“Wider. Let me see your tongue.”

What you do to me, lass. How you fulfill so many of my fantasies.

“Perfect.” He worked his cock along the center of her tongue. “So warm. Fuck. So soft. Jenny. Jenny. Your mouth!”

He bellowed it as she closed completely over him, lettin’ out a long and lush moan with her eager swoop of control. At once, any remainin’ drops in his slit were hers. His whole head was hers. His balls were hers. His fuckin’ soul was hers…

His veins beat against her tongue. His flesh swelled against her lips. His hips clenched as he struggled to ease into her slowly, but her impatient mewls urged him otherwise. “Don’t be careful,” Sam dictated from locked teeth. “For fuck’s sake, don’t be tender.”

Because I’m not goin’ to be.

He thrust into her a little harder. A little more. Tightened his grip on her head as the demand in his cock beat louder, seeking the perfect heat at the very back of her throat.

“Breathe,” he urged. “Through your nose. That’s it, sweet girl. Take me deeper. Deeper.”

And then he was there. Stabbin’ all the way into her heat, fuckin’ her mouth as completely as he could. Consumin’ her with all the lust in his body, the desire in his spirit, the need in his senses. But incredibly, the woman groaned as if she craved more. She dived her hands beneath him, grabbing the spheres of his ass with lusty vengeance. With every lunge he gave her with his dick, she dug harder into his glutes. And aye, it began to hurt. A lot. But God help him, he didn’t want her to stop. The jabs helped him hold back, drawing out the exquisite ecstasy of this union even longer.

“Aye,” he encouraged her between some of his harsh, heaving gasps. “Make it hurt, my beauty. Harder. Harder.”

As she groaned and mewled and slurped around his cock, he forced his eyes to crack open just a little. Just enough to behold his cock invadin’ her mouth and the shimmering puddle of her saliva at his base.

“Damn,” he grunted. “Damn, damn, damn, Jenny.” When she responded with another lusty little sigh, he continued, “My darlin’ a leanbh. You love this, don’t you? You want me takin’ your mouth like this, with every inch of my cock?”

“Mmmmm hmmmm.”

Luscious little minx. He’d never been happier the angels had handed him a girl who devoured sexy romances like candy—and had the passion and talent to service his cock like it was a stick of the same molded sugar. Jesus, she was even well-read enough to know that repeatin’ the exclamation would stimulate him even more if she hollowed her cheeks at the same time. But not even that little trick affected him as profoundly as the stare she lifted up to him as she did. A look that conveyed so much more than how deeply this was turnin’ her on.

It was a look of spot-on, well-rooted, take-this-and-deal-with it confidence.

Clarity in how sexy she was. How beautiful she was. How worthy she was.

All the sexiness and gorgeousness and worth that he’d seen in her from the very start.

Perfection.

She was sheer, incredible perfection.

Exactly the incentive he needed to combine a growl and hiss into the same blissful eruption from his lips—just before increasing his pace into hers.

“Yes,” he praised. “That’s it, Jenny. Take me deep. Take me down your throat.” But as she closed her eyes, focusing on doing just that, Sam tilted her head back, compelling her stare back open. “Stay with me, mo muirnín. Watch me, my darling. Look at every shred of desire I have for you. Every dirty, wicked thought I have about you. You’ll be seein’ it all, Jenny. You’ll be lookin’ at every way I adore you…every way I need you.”

I need you.

The words drilled through his body, pulsin’ up into his sex…and all of his soul. Because that wasn’t an idiotic idea, right? Hotwirin’ one’s cock to their heart? What could possibly go awry with that…

Except everythin’?

But there was the not-so-small matter of keeping her gaze locked to his. Of watching every raw, wild emotion across her face as he swelled and thickened and hardened inside her. As the stabs of his cock tore new moans past her lips. As her eyes darkened to the shade of green smoke, so full of her own desire and dominion that he had no choice but to let her into all the places in him where the thickest shadows of his own soul still thrived…

Confirming one unalterable truth.

Jenny Thorne really was his soul mate.

And selkies really lived. And the monster of Loch Ness was really lurkin’ around in the muck of that place.

Soul mates only existed in fuckin’ fairy tales. And now that he’d reminded himself thoroughly of it and she didn’t have to worry about the helicopter morphin’ back into a pumpkin, he refocused on enjoyin’ every moment of this. Only this. Every drop of its erotic magic. Every thrill of its growing arousal. And aye, he made sure Jenny beheld it too. The profound pleasure she brought him. The welcomin’ heat she gifted to him. All the ways she opened him back up to how breathtakin’ life could be.

How happy his life could be.

That was when the truth of all this struck.

She made him feel like a god…

Because she was a goddess.

And for right here, right now…his goddess.

He just couldn’t get too attached to the feeling.

An affirmation that couldn’t have been better timed—for as it struck, he summoned the fortitude to pull away from her, draggin’ in shaky breaths as he reached his hands back through his hair. Already anticipatin’ how she’d fire off a puzzled pout, he was also ready with a laugh-choke combo that did little for his air supply but a great deal for her vampy little grin.

As he rolled off the bed, shoving back his hair once more, he shook his head and cleared his throat. “Do not move,” he was finally able to order with convincin’ dominion, pointing a mocking finger at her. “I’ll be right back. A muckle manwhore like Frank has got to have one box of condoms in this place.”

So much for dominion. The second he muttered it, Jen burst out with a definite giggle, utterly tramplin’ on the gist of his order even if she complied in theory. But he couldn’t help his charmed chuckle as she waggled a jokin’ finger of her own and then ordered, “You. Gorgeous male-type specimen. Get your finer-than-fine ass back here.”

As he slid back onto the bed, she busied herself with reachin’ for her purse. The next second, she pulled out her little makeup bag—and from there, she drew out a foil packet emblazoned with the Nyte’s logo. “Courtesy of the wedding salon ladies’ room.” She offered it up in triumph. “The one hotel in Vegas that really sticks to the marketing slogan.”

Sam flashed a wide smirk. “‘What happens in Vegas…’”

“Something along those lines.”

He jumped one of his brows. “And I had you marked as the lotion pilferin’ type.”

She pouted. “They were free. And they’re super pretty.”

“I don’t care if you held up the attendant and shot out the security cams.” His voice was as rough as his jaw, which clenched in all the best ways as he tore the foil open with his teeth. Before he pulled out the latex, he nodded toward the center of the bed. “Get naked for me, beauty. I want to see all of you—right there.”

She rewetted her lips. And then rasped, silkier and sexier than he’d ever heard from her, “Yes, Sir!”

No point in tellin’ her how that sweet acquiescence affected him. The evidence jutted straight out as she returned to an air of cute and coy, unbuttoning her blouse with sensual little tugs. The little temptress kept up the flirtation after removing her bra, trailing both hands over her erect nipples, pulling until they became firm berries of arousal. Only after Sam let out a low rumble did she finally say, in a teasing murmur, “But I’ve been at work all day. I’m probably covered in old sweat.”

She was rewarded with the gulp that corded Sam’s neck…and the darker danger in his eyes. “And soon you’ll be drenched in new sweat. Now get those pants off. I need to see every fuckin’ inch of you.”

His tone brooked no more dawdling. Wisely, she didn’t. But just as Jen finished removing her pants and boots and then scrambled to the center of the bed, he made her freeze—with his astonished growl.

“What the bloody—”

Jen pushed up from the pillows, alarm painted across her face—until she spied the reason for Sam’s outburst. At once, her face changed—as she pressed her lips together, clearly tryin’ to hold herself in from wild giggles. “Well, that’s certainly…keeping it different.”

“Different?” Sam gestured at his erection with a sharp sweep. The condom was stretched tightly over his wang, from the juncture of his heavy balls to the proud crown at the top. Although now that peak was…

Decorated.

Unfortunately, there was no better way to phrase it. The rim between his head and frenulum was accented with a ring of bright-blue latex, serving as the base for a row of small rubber spikes. The resulting look was certainly some bampot’s idea of a little exotic mixed with a lot of erotic.

He wasn’t that bampot.

“Well, at least it’s a great color.” Jen attempted a helpful smile. “Bolt blue!”

Sam was ready to maintain his answerin’ scowl—until the woman brought up one of his favorite American heroes. He didn’t have many, mostly because there were plenty to idolize in Scotland and they tended to kick ass the world over, but Reece Richards’ alter ego was an American legend who surpassed boundaries of geography, topography, and nationalities.

Because of that, his mouth started twitchin’ too. How could he resist his adorable little woman, with her eyes twinklin’ at him, her dimples flashin’ for him, and her naked curves callin’ to him? And fuck him, she was Team Bolt on top of bein’ a Star Wars geek and a sassy little kinkster.

He’d hit the cosmic jackpot.

And was so thankful for it, he almost stopped right there and mouthed a long thank you to the Almighty.

Instead, he saved up the gratitude for the heat in his eyes while prowlin’ closer to her, scootin’ up the mattress one steady knee at a time. “You really like it, sassy mouse?”

She returned his heated stare with wide, watchful eyes, as if he were a tiger that had suddenly slipped its chain. He could really live with that analogy—and showed her so with a stealthy slide of his right hand around her left ankle.

She barely held back a gasp as he tightened his fingers, sending visible goosebumps up the length of her leg. “It’s…it’s…errrmmm…”

“What?” He swung in, clasping her other ankle.

She let out a long, velvety mewl as he glided his fingertips up the back of her calves. “Kind of…exciting.” She rolled beneath him like a feline in her own right, her nude curves so feral and graceful, responding to all his caresses with matching flows of movement that captivated and awakened him. Ignited and inspired him…

“Excitin’ sounds very, very fine.” He skated his fingers behind her knees. Dipped his head to nip at the insides of her thighs. “Oh aye. So fine.”

“Mmmmm.” Her intention seemed to be a seductive hum but came out more as a strangled choke. And that was very fine as well. “Yes. I think ‘exciting’ could serve us very…very…oh!”

Two more kisses, higher on her thighs, made her squeal and shudder. And rendered him officially in heaven. Bollocks on the fact that he was capable of rainin’ fire on an enemy from ten thousand feet. This was the only incineration he was interested in ever dolin’ again—from two inches of altitude, where the damage could be gauged in this goddess’s heated twists, tantalized shivers, and passionate sighs. And what about hittin’ the ultimate target? That was the best part of all: the buck of her spread thighs, fully exposin’ all the pink, wet glory of her plumped, ready sex, just waitin’ for the full impact of his hard and achin’ missile…

“Sam! Enough teasing, you bastard! I need you!”

Oh, now he had a new favorite part.

The “provoking incident” of her “return fire.”

Which he was thrilled to cut short after just her first volley—by diggin’ a pair of brutal grips into the curves of her thighs. Then tuggin’ hard, without any more of his sweet and sultry shit about it, to align her body perfectly beneath his.

“Bastard?” He flashed a smirk, pouring on a mixture of allure and antagonism at once and rejoicin’ in how that dilated her irises. Despite the evidence of her arousal, he went ahead and taunted lowly, “Good bastard…or bad bastard?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jenny stammered. “Ohhhh, shit.” Her limbs quaked as Sam rolled his hips—scraping her pretty, sensitive nether lips with the nasty blue spikes that poked from all around his girth. Those perfect, incredible little teasers… “Y-You’re driving me crazy, damn it. I—I can’t think—”

“Then don’t.” He stamped a fresh underscore of command to the words. “Just stop thinking and feel it, my beautiful Jenny. Feel me. All of me.”

But suddenly, despite her passionate dictates, the woman had started to hold back. Sam could ken it as sure as the air in his lungs; there was fresh tension in her muscles along with the strict line that now comprised her lips. She clung to it even as he seduced her more with the latex she’d called full-on excitin’ a few minutes ago—but that wasn’t nearly enough. For some reason, her surrender had been yanked off the table—ever since the moment he’d pierced her gaze with his own and ordered her not to just take him but feel him.

Damn it.

She was at it again.

Wantin’ all of the sex but none of what it now represented between them. Oh aye. She craved all the teasing strokes of the wild spiked condom and even the rockin’ climax they’d bring, but none of what he was askin’ her—ordering her—to give him in exchange. Her truth. Her vulnerability. The honest, real, gory, scary passion that he’d been willin’ to expose to her already…

That was, as she would say, bullshit.

But now he just had to find a way of showin’ her so.

And set himself to the task with a purpose that might turn him into a bloody superhero.

Intense or not, he already had the ideal starting block. Or, more accurately, the commencing condom. Thanks to the Nyte Resort and their dedication to makin’ every mate’s sexual swim a safe one, he already had the ideal tool to taunt her sweet pussy in ways he hadn’t anticipated. With deliberate gyrations of his hips and tantalizing taps with his cock, he soon had Jen lurching and shivering under him again. The second her higher sighs punched the air, he moved to phase two. With deepened snarls, he nuzzled her neck. With calculated pressure, he tugged at her nipples, stroked her outer thighs…and went for the ultimate clincher in circling her clenching asshole.

But as soon as she moaned and bore down, hoping to get more of him inside her sensitive entrance, he purposely pulled back. Then, coiling his muscles to assist, all the way up.

He descended his gaze over her body, restrainin’ himself even more. The effort was not fuckin’ easy, especially with her hair already lookin’ freshly fucked and her lips so plump and berry-red from bein’ fucked by him. There were new temptations here as well. The engorged erections of her nipples. The sight of that bright-blue condom, ready to protect his length as he plunged home inside her…

But not yet.

Almost. There.

Almost. There.

Which was why he locked his teeth and held back just a little more. And stared down over all of his gorgeous Jenny again, takin’ note of every tremor, quiver, shiver, and shake that led to his overridin’ instinct about how this was goin’ to go down next.

Which was why he lifted back up, until their faces were in line again—

And let her have it with his surest, sexiest half grin of ultimate triumph.

Instantly earnin’ himself what had to be her most incredible scowl.

Incredible—as in needin’ to be capitalized and practically spelled out in twenty-foot neon over the bloody Vegas Strip itself.

Incredible—as in the woman looked ready to crumble from the force of lashin’ it at him.

Incredible—as in that was right the fuck where he wanted her. Needed her.

“Goddamnit, Sam.” Her wince was just as harsh, but she didn’t look away. Not this time. Not when she clearly, fully intended that he see every square inch of it, proved as soon as she drove a hand up into his hair and twisted as if her life depended on it.

Sam wasn’t sure his didn’t.

“Jenny.” He poured all of himself into the syllables, makin’ damn sure she knew she wasn’t in this emotional whirlpool by herself. And that if the spinnin’ waters pulled her down, he was damned well going to follow her into them. “Jenny.”

I’m here. I adore you.

I love you.

“Stop.” She almost hissed it, as if she’d somehow heard everythin’ he’d said. His heart was thunderin’ so hard with the force of his vow, he wouldn’t have argued it. Because, of course, selkies were real and he really was sure he’d seen Nessie of Loch Ness once, right? “Stop, okay?” She gritted her teeth on the words now. “You’re tearing me apart.”

He dropped his forehead atop hers. “Good.” Welcome to the fuckin’ club.

“Damn it.” She dropped her hand. Squeezed her eyes shut. “You really are a bastard.”

He was actually grateful for her sarcasm. Told her so with a rueful wince. “Yeah? Well, the bastard says to spread your legs for him, beauty.”

She spat back a watery laugh. “I should tell you to go fuck off.”

“But you won’t.” He took his voice into a register barely above a whisper. Into the tone of a command that would resonate into every pore of her body and awareness of her soul. Because that was exactly where he felt her inside his own bein’…in the fibers of what made him a creature reborn. By her. For her. “You won’t—because denyin’ me is like cuttin’ out your own heart.”

“Shit.” She said it slowly, shakily…as she parted her thighs for him.

Then again as Sam moved into her with his first hot slide. And his second. And his third. And all the slow, tantalizing thrusts after that—delivering the sensual swipes of those blue latex spikes against every inch of her juicy little clit, fadin’ just a little bit more of her control.

She reached for him again. Hung on with a grip that would surely leave deep red marks along his shoulders—or so he hoped—sighin’ and gaspin’ with every new, deeper plunge of his throbbin’ length, helpin’ him climb for the pinnacle they both sought with growlin’, surgin’ exigency.

“Oh, Sam. Sam!”

He was shakin’ sorely himself but sucked in enough air to whisper back. “Aye, a ghrá geal?” Yes, my beloved?

“Tear. Me. Open.”

Her snarl worked through him like quicksilver. Settled at the base of his spine for excruciating moments before spreading across his ass and injecting itself into his swollen, screamin’ balls. He tucked his head against her neck, prayin’ like fuck for the strength to hold on as he braced her waist with hands that felt stiff as goddamned Lego bricks. He was likely markin’ her soft skin the same way she’d bruised him—not a thought he needed right now—but it helped him secure his grip so he could ram her body harder around him.

Her screams started.

But not the telltale tremors through her channel that he sought.

Not the tremors he longed to give her.

He growled out his greedy approval at her shrieks nonetheless, thankful there were only bunches of cactus and a few coyotes around for miles. Dear God, the sounds this passionate creature could make. She was magnificent, now becoming his uncaged tigress, so fierce and savage, scratchin’ him harder and yellin’ at him louder, as if challenging him to find a way to fuck her harder and bruise her deeper, before she gave up the screams of her ultimate, searin’ surrender.

Soon. Oh God oh God, please let it be soon.

“Sam. Sam!” she finally cried. “I can’t—I don’t know if I can hold it—”

“Don’t you fuckin’ hold it.” His face locked into a thousand angles of his own tension. As he kept rammin’ her, still working to brand himself on every inch of welcoming tissue inside her, he raised a hand to her forehead. For a moment, he left his grip right there, before twisting his fingers into her hairline with brutal force. “Now, Jenny.” The words seethed from between his teeth. “Let me watch it. Now.”

And finally, he tore her apart.

Just as she ripped him into a thousand shards of rushing, relieving ecstasy.

The orgasm bloody killed him.

His heart stopped as the heat blazed in, crashin’ his blood and evisceratin’ his senses. “God,” he groaned. “Fuck.” He plunged into her with merciless force, his shaft retreating and then reentering with long, hard strokes. He was nothin’ but ripped, raw glory, splayed beneath the desert stars, never wantin’ to be whole again. But that was exactly what Jenny Thorne did the very next moment. She melted him back into one piece as he kept shuntin’ inside her, giving her every last drop of come his balls could squeeze and punch into his strained, and soon utterly drained, cock.

At once, he wanted to let out a hysterical laugh. Had he really thought he could make his mark on her? As he curled his face back into the curve of her neck, the truth blared at him with agonizing clarity.

She’d marked him for life.

Forever.

Holy God, he hoped so.

Especially as she kept clinging to him. Desperately, unbelievably, milking even more out of him. With one hand latched against his scalp, her fingers tanglin’ in his sweaty hair, one sweet little mewl from her had him pumpin’ yet again, wrappin’ her hair all the way around his fist this time. Ferociously, they clung to each other. Passionately, he fucked into her. Then suddenly, once more together, they came again—twice as hard. But he slowed as Jen’s scream pierced the air, also doubled in force.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Am I hurting you, mo luaidh?”

“Y-Yes.” She swiveled her face, punctuating with a ruthless bite in his neck. “But don’t you dare stop.”

Inspired by her move, he sank his teeth into the flesh beneath her ear. Filled her sex with more of his passionate possession. “I want you to feel me inside you for weeks,” he growled. “I want to walk into your office, bid you a good mornin’, and know that the sound of my voice makes your cunt wet from rememberin’ me. I don’t even want you to sit without feelin’ the pain I’ve given you…the marks I’ve put on you…inside and out.”