When she got the breath to ask him what he was doing, he wouldn’t answer her. Her thighs were still trembling from the hard, fast orgasm that had taken her breath away. Sloane could only stumble after him, his hold on her too strong to resist, in any way.

What the hell was that? she thought dazedly. Yes, she was admittedly attracted to the man. Okay, so make that in total salivating lust mode, but even for her an orgasm like that been a little extreme. Not that she wasn’t well aware of her ‘sensitivity.’ Josh had liked to tease her for it. Though she realized much later it was more his way of mocking her for an insatiability he had no hopes of keeping up with.

His attempts at shaming hadn’t really taken. Sloane was unapologetic about her love of sex. More than good dark chocolate, a punishing run or the rush after laying down three thousand words in one long burst of creative inspiration, sex was awesome.

But this here with Mac?

New fucking territory.

When the stone cabin came into sight, white, grey and still flushed pink from the lingering brilliance of dawn, she tried to slow him down, to get her breath back and simply think for one second. She’d started this, and she wasn’t about to make him stop, but this quiet intensity of his was beginning to make her nervous.

“Really, Mac—”

He wrenched open the door, pulling her inside before he kicked it closed. She’d seen his house before, but she’d never been inside. Small, and somewhat somber, with lots of deep greens and stormy blues. There was only an impression of ruthlessly tidy masculinity before she was swirled into a kitchen area off to the side. Open and much brighter than the living area, with lots of yellow stoneware on the wide counters under cabinets of whitewashed wood. There was a table in the middle of the flagstone floor, a large sturdy table, also whitewashed. Books and a few dishes littered the top, at least until Mac swept his arm over it, clearing everything in one crashing swipe. He tossed her onto the cool surface.

She looked up at him, her stomach shaky as she pushed up on her elbows. Mac yanked one of her feet to his massive thigh. He worked at the ties of her trainer. Getting one loose, he tossed it over his head and pulled her other foot up.

“Mac, what—”

The second shoe joined the first with a sharp crack that indicated it might have hit one of the cleared dishes. Mac’s eyes didn’t so much as flicker. His hands, those dark, tanned hands that had always enthralled her, slid up her legs. Moving slowly from ankles to calves, as if savoring every inch, making her heart pound even harder. “Mac, talk to me. Slow down here and tell me what you want—”

“What I want is obvious, innit? And what you want, too, if what happened out on that hill is any indication.” His voice sounded different than she had ever heard it, almost crackling, like the sound of thunder before an approaching storm. His strong fingers moved to her waist and curled into the waistband of her yoga pants. Sloane swallowed.

“Yes, Mac. I do, I want you—” She didn’t know what she’d intended to say after that, because Mac peeling her pants down in one smooth movement effectively stole her ability to articulate. She was bare underneath. No underwear created could hide a panty line in her running pants, so she never bothered with them on her morning runs.

Sloane took a lot of pride in her body. Her full, upthrust breasts were large on her slim, willowy figure. While she had little in the way of hips or ass, what she did have was a gentle, pleasing curve. She was smooth and golden and firm from head to foot, the thinnest patch of darker gold hair feathering her sex. The sex that fluttered hard under his gaze. She wasn’t shy but she knew she was soaking wet from her orgasm out on the hill with him. Now that he’d stripped her, the cool air was making her excruciatingly aware of those areas where her pants hadn’t been able to wick the moisture away. Her face flushed.

The look in his eyes as he tossed the pants over his shoulder to join her shoes in some corner told her he was just as aware of her state as she was.

“Take off the rest,” he ordered.

She couldn’t help but respond to the harsh command. Sloane sat up more fully, pulling the tank and what was left of her sports bra off before letting them fall to the floor. Completely naked now, she was achingly aware of her vulnerability as Mac stood over her, fully dressed. He was a huge man and the look on his face was so intense, so dark, she couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive.

His eyes softened. “Nae, doona look at me like tha’. Or this stops right here. Ye said ye wanted me, Sloane, jus’ now. Have ye changed yer mind?”

“No,” she breathed. “It’s just . . . you’re a little scary, Mac.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh I surely hope so! And Sloane,” his whisper seemed to trail over her exposed skin like a caress, “ye have no’ seen anything yet.”

With that he went to his knees, spreading her legs and throwing them over his wide shoulders, yanking her hips to the very edge of the table. His dark hair brushed the delicate skin on her inner thighs and her fingers tightened on the edge of the table. Dear god, he didn’t mean to start with—

Apparently, he did.

Mac didn’t tease, didn’t take his time. Sloane had experienced oral sex before and while it had been damn good, but it had been nothing like this. She hadn’t known this existed.

Fierce and demanding, his mouth covered her, the first hot sweep of his tongue making her hips strain against his hands. Mac held her down ruthlessly, forcing her to surrender as he buried his face in her sex. His only intent seemed to be to push her over the edge again as fast as possible. His tongue stroked and flicked and lapped until she started begging in a voice she hadn’t known she possessed. With a growl that made her body bow off the table, he sucked her clit into his mouth. The pleasure tore through her with such intensity, her throat closed and she couldn’t make a sound. Her body twisted and the table creaked as her fingernails dug into the wood.

“Mac.” His name wasn’t so much a scream as it was a prayer as the orgasm washed over her.

Before she could take a breath, Mac lifted his head and pushed one of her thighs off his shoulder, leaving her spread with excruciating intimacy before him. Looking directly into her eyes as the tremors continued to shake her, Mac slid one big finger inside of her still-pulsing sheath.

Then another. His head lowered again. She did scream this time, over and over again as his tongue and fingers plundered her. He made her come until she was out of her mind, limp and weak on the table. Her juices ran down her shaking thighs in rivulets, leaving tingling trails of heat.

The room spun in waves, colors moving formlessly around her. She could smell the sea through the open window, Sloane thought dimly. Briny and sharp and fresh. Or maybe that was Mac. His figure blurred as he got to his feet, gently letting her limp legs fall to the table.

“Sloane.” She tried to bring him into focus and finally caught the gleam of a rather predatory smile. He ran a finger over her bare hip and she jumped. That smile widened. “Sloane, we’re nowhere near done. Come here.”

He held out his hand. For a moment, she thought her brain would not be able to make her boneless body obey, but finally her fingers curled around his.

He pulled her to a sitting position, holding her steady when she swayed. One hand cupped her cheek. She could smell herself on his skin, like the perfume of some exotic flower, as she nuzzled his palm. Her nostrils flared. He seemed to catch her thought process for he pressed one finger against her lips. “Go on, taste how delicious ye were to me.”

Dreamlike, she drew his finger into her mouth, sucking softly. The warm, somehow spicy taste of him combined with the lingering flavor of her own juices made her stomach contract.

Mac’s reaction was even more visceral. He yanked back with an oath. “Undo my pants, Sloane. Now. I canna wait any longer.”

He took her fingers in one hand and pressed them against his fly. She was only too happy to comply, even though it took her seemingly ages to free him, her numb fingers clumsy. When his cock sprang into her hands, she gasped.

It was like a cold bucket of seawater had been dumped over her head, clearing her pleasure-dulled brain.

Holy crap, he was enormous. When she had felt him against her on the hill, it had been obvious he was well-endowed, but this—

This was more than a little scary. He was built like a god, gorgeous and thick as her wrist, nearly as long as the length of her hand times two. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She could only stare up at him, her fingers curled over his massive sex—unable to decide if she should be thrilled or terrified. Or both.

He smiled again, more gently this time. “’Twill be all right, love. Be easy.” Peeling her fingers off his shaft, he pressed her back down on the table. Her spine seemed to unravel at the sight of him above her. Taking himself in hand, he pushed her legs apart, this time with his hips. The thick head of his cock was already glistening in the light. Sloane’s throat went dry. She shuddered helplessly as he slid against her. Her inner muscles clenched almost greedily at the tip of him, stopping him short before he could even get inside her. Oh god, she couldn’t. Even as slick and hot as he’d made her, there was no way.

“Easy,” Mac murmured again. Lifting her leg, he pressed a trail of teasing kisses up her calf as his hips eased forward, inch by inch, forcing her protesting body to give way to him.

Each time he met resistance, Mac lavished attention to another part of her body. First one breast, then the other. The tips of her fingers. The back of one knee. Until finally he was somehow buried to the hilt, his hips flush against hers. One of her legs was curled over his arm as he looked down at her, his green-grey eyes dark as a stormy sea. Her breath caught on a sob. Having Mac inside her was overwhelming in more ways than one.

His cock was stretching her from the inside out, full and heavy. It was almost, but not quite, unbearable. Not painful exactly—but with the threat of imminent pain if he wasn’t careful. There was also a delicious hint of something much more promising than pain. She swallowed as their eyes met and held. Did she dare encourage him to move?

Then he moved. All of her hesitation vanished. Oh holy fucking Christ . . . so good. How can it feel this good?

She sucked in a ragged breath, feeling each slow, measured thrust so deep inside her it was like being reformed. Mac was gritting his teeth, obviously trying his utmost to be gentle, but soon she’d had fucking enough of gentle. She reached for his shoulders, yanking him down, wanting that hard body covering her, her nails digging into his skin as she pleaded for more.

He shook his head once, still trying to hold back. She felt the patter against her breasts as the droplets of sweat that had beaded along his nape and dampened his hair flicked over her. His body was so taut under her hands it might have been carved of raw iron. When she bowed off the table seconds later, her toes curling, her whole body protesting his controlled pace, Mac finally lost it. He lifted her bodily off the table.

Sloane wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, barely able to hold on as he let himself go, that power unleashed at last. It was beautiful and terrifying, Sloane was helpless in a way she’d never been in her life, but also empowered, knowing it was she who made him this way, primal, fierce and unstoppable.

When he came, it was with a roar that reverberated through her every nerve, the hot swell of him inside her pulling her along in his wake. Her vision went dark and everything faded.

When her eyes opened again, the first thing she noticed was that Mac was no longer inside her. The second was that she was lying on something soft and warm, and that something else soft and warm was covering her naked and still boneless body. Mac moved into her line of sight. Shirtless, dark auburn hair mussed, his chameleon eyes a soft blue-green at the moment. Clean jogging pants rode low on his hips, that dark, reddish-gold trail of hair darting down over the chiseled V of his stomach. There were scratches on his chest and crisscrossing the thick swell of his shoulders, deep and vivid. Dear god, she’d marked him. She bit her lip in consternation. When she tried to sit up, the movement made her wince.

He’d marked her, too, inside and out. There would be no running for her anytime soon, and despite the fact she knew he’d tried his damnedest to be gentle, she could feel the imprints of his fingers all over her body. He was an incredibly powerful man. Having sex with Mac had been like riding a thunderstorm. Bareback. Holy shit.

Bareback?! What the fuck had they done?

Her eyes went wide just as a steaming mug was thrust in front of her face.

“Tea?”

She automatically wrapped her fingers around the hot ceramic, craving the blessed warmth. The day had definitely turned cold, or maybe it was simply the lack of Mac’s heat making her feel so.

“What . . . happened?”

“I believe you passed out.” He lifted her legs and sat down next to her on the couch, smiling in obvious, masculine satisfaction as he dropped her feet back onto his lap. She’d fainted? Well, that was a little mortifying.

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “La petite mort. Has it nae happened to ye tha’ way before?”

“No. You?” she asked, curious and maybe just a little jealous.

He grinned. “No’ yet. But ye’re welcome to try all ye like.”

“We didn’t . . .” She took a sip of tea and cleared her throat, but her words still came out all squeaky. “We didn’t use protection, Mac.”

The smile slid from his face. He ran a big hand over his stubbled jaw. “Yer no’ on the birth control?”

She shook her head, feeling a bit ill. “I don’t do well with hormonal birth control. I tried one of the shots and it messed me up bad. The doctor wanted me to give it six months for my cycle to settle before she put in an IUD, but I left LA before then. I had no intention of taking a lover, Mac. Not for a long while. But you . . .”

“Didna give ye much choice, aye.” He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then his shoulders rolled in a shrug. “Well, wha’s done is done, I’d no’ take it back if I could, and I canna. So piss on it.”

“Mac!”

“Well, wha’ do ye ken to do, eh?”

“I’ll go into Ramsey, get a morning-after pill. Something—”

His laugh was short.

“Good luck wit tha’, lass. Tis all closed tonight already and ye know what tomorrow is.” Sunday. Shit. “They’ll be nothing open in Ramsey until Monday.” And she was supposed to move then, too. Of course, that was the least of her worries at present.

She leaned back into the couch. “Douglas then. Come on, Mac, in Douglas at least there must be—”

“Aye, no doubt in Douglas there’d be a druggist who coulda give ye what ye seek, but do ye no’ hear the storm outside?”

Abruptly, she did. Waves pummeled the cliffs nearby as if straining to break the very rocks to bits. With a cry she lunged to her feet, stumbling a bit as she made her way to the window and ripped back the curtain. It was black as sin outside, rain pouring like sheets of ink from a boiling sky ripped with lightning.

Sloane put her hand to her mouth, her legs going weak, but then a solid, warm wall formed behind her, holding her up.

“Doona panic, love. ’Twas only one time.” His breath stirred her hair, his hand making warm circles over her bare stomach.

“It only takes once, Mac.” She leaned back into him, trembling. “I should take a shower at least. Maybe a bath.”

“I cleaned my seed from ye while ye were still asleep on the table, Sloane. I was verra thorough.” She shivered. The thought of him touching her so intimately while she’d been senseless from the pleasure he’d given her should not have been so damn hot, but it was.

Still. “I should shower.”

“Aye,” he stepped back. “Go ahead.” He gave her a light push toward the hallway. “There’ll be towels and a bar of soap in the basket, first door down.”

Dazed, Sloane took a few steps and then turned, something inside her clenching. “Aren’t you coming, too?”

Mac’s face went dark and still. For a second she could have sworn his eyes flashed lightning blue, but at that exact moment there was a sonorous clap of thunder directly overhead and she jumped. When she looked at him again, he seemed perfectly normal, his irises back to that calm blue-green, though a muscle ticked in his jaw. She must have imagined it. Nobody’s eyes could go such a color. But she hadn’t imagined the tension in his face.

“Doona tempt me.”

“Surely you have enough control for one teensy shower, Mac.” For some reason she didn’t want to be alone, so she lifted an eyebrow tauntingly. “Besides, you must need some time to recover before you’d be any kind of a threat again.”

“Think so, do ye?” With an oath, he cleared the room in one giant stride, his fingers circling her wrist and pressing her palm hard between his legs. He was already swelling, lengthening under the thin cotton. Mac’s eyes narrowed as he watched hers widen. Her lips parted and her cheeks heated, but she didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. Mac cursed.

He took another step, sweeping her along with him until her shoulders bumped gently into the wall. “Ye ken now? Doona tempt me. We took one chance, we shouldna take another.”

Despite herself Sloane felt her lower lip tremble. The crushing disappointment was echoed by her inner muscles fluttering in protest. Not fucking fair. She’d only had one taste, and she was ravenous for more. The feel of him pulsing against her fingers had made her lose all perspective. “You don’t have any condoms here?” she hissed. “Not at all?”

Minutes later, they stood staring down at the table. One lone condom package sat in the middle of bright white.

“Well, that’s…disappointing,” she said softly. Maybe the storm will be a short one.

She could hear his teeth grinding together. “Yer nae the only one who’d nae plans to take a lover. It’s been . . . ages for me, love.”

Ages.

Christ, she wanted him even more now. His cock jutted under the soft jogging pants and mindlessly she slipped her hand under the waistband and squeezed.

He froze, and once again she could’ve sworn she saw a flash of blue.

“Amhasóg go bhfuil tú ag tiomáint dÚsachtach dom. Ní féidir liom cuimhneamh seo. I willna bear it no longer. I willna.” He picked her up so abruptly, she squealed.

“Mac! You didn’t bring the condom.” Her hands clutched his bare shoulders, feeling every ripple in the hard muscles as he stalked down the narrow hallway.

“Aye. We’ll save that for later.”

Oh. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Take a shower with ye . . . and do everything a man can do to make a woman scream with pleasure without actually spilling inside her. And ye . . .” He had stopped at the bathroom door. She could feel the power caged under her hands, vibrating like the storm outside.

“Yes, Mac?” She looked up at him through her lashes, wondering why he’d stopped. He dipped his head until his lips ran along the shell of her ear, his hot breath feathering over her skin.

“Ye will do the same to me.”

She sucked back a whimper as her nipples tightened instantly. But she forced a brazen smile. “You’d scream for me?”

His teeth grazed her throat. “I scream for no one, love.”

She turned her head and captured his mouth, biting his lips sharply, sucking and memorizing that mouth that had haunted her for years. “Don’t be so sure,” she breathed against his mouth. “I’ll bring you to your knees, Mac.”

“Tá tú cheana féin.”

“What?” she whispered as he shoved open the bathroom door.

“You can try.”

She thought maybe he wasn’t being perfectly honest about that translation, but then he set her down with that arrogant look that made her brain incapable of thought. With a smile, Sloane dropped to her knees on the braided rug, watching his eyes go wide. Her palms flattened over the ridge of his hips, thumbs hooked in the pants that she began drawing down inch by inch.

“Then let’s get started immediately, shall we?”

He opened his mouth to speak but soon forgot all about talking.

For a very long time.