“Quiet, Roxanne. Or do youwantthem to hear?”
I moan, closed-mouthed, in response. A tremble of rebellion goes through me.
DoI want them to hear me?
“You want them to know you’re mine.”
His fingers dig into my ass, jerking me closer to his hungry mouth. He sucks, slurps, licks, and kisses until I’m leaning back. Blindly, I reach out and bury my fingers in his hair, tugging.
He grunts in approval, standing abruptly.
“What?”
Mak’s smirk is twisted in the dark room. Outside, shadows move past the windows. The cool air on my wet pussy makes me shiver. “Mak,” I whisper, torn. I can’t take him to my room; I can’t allow myself that temptation.
“What, Roxy?” he asks gruffly, the words sinking into his accent. “What do you want? Tell me.”
My lips part. The feel of his clothing against my bare legs is rough. He’s massaging my lower back almost lovingly, leaning his forehead against mine.
You. I wantyou.
The answer comes to me so unbidden and true that I can’t say it out loud. I can’t.
Makari pulls back as if he’s read my mind, his eyes serious. My chest aches with the realization that I want him more than anything, and I wait for him to call me out on it.
Instead, he slowly moves a hand between my legs. Presses two fingers to my entrance and inches in so slowly that I’m gripping the countertop to keep from screaming in ecstasy.
“I’ll give it to you this time,” Makari says calmly, the pace of him finger-fucking me staying exactly the same. Concentrated. Steady. A man with a job to do, and determination.
“But next time,” he grumbles, “you tell me when I demand it. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whisper, trying to buck my hips forward in an effort to egg him on. But Mak only smiles grimly, leans forward, and works his fingers harder. Not faster.
The orgasm rushes over me from my core, making my belly clench, my legs go weak. I squirm, biting down another satisfied moan as Mak fucks me through it. The smile on his face shows he is pleased.
“Good girl.”
When it’s over, I’m braced against the cabinets, my breath shaking out of me in unsteady bursts. Mak still has one hand at the base of my spine, keeping me anchored as if he doesn’t trust gravity to do its job.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
He pulls away just enough to look at me, his thumb brushing my cheek as if checking I’m still there. A voice outside says, “River is clear,” and I clumsily move to readjust my robe. Makari helps, his hands steady and patient.
We both breathe the same air, broken now of tension.
“You call me whenever you feel unsafe,” he says, voice quiet but unyielding. “I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care where I am.”
“That’s not fair,” I whisper, still breathless.
“I don’t care about fair.”
I swallow hard. “I can’t live like this, Mak. Not knowing what’s coming.”
He exhales, head dipping to my shoulder for a brief, unguarded second. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. No more.”
“Mak—”
He lifts his head again, eyes blazing straight through me. “Roxanne. I will not lose you or her. I’ll keep you both safe.”
