Smexy Scene Sunday

Hero: Gideon Marshal. Police chief of McKay’s Treasure. Has been in love with Moria McKay since they were teenagers but she left him eighteen years ago and he never knew why.

Heroine: Moria McKay. Oldest of the McKay siblings. Has always loved Gideon but pushed him away for reasons only known to her. But the time has come for her to reveal what happened eighteen years ago.

“Look, you can’t even talk,” he said, turning away from her. “You can’t explain what’s going on and I can’t see inside your head. We should talk about this when you can talk. Right now, I don’t know what you want—”

She reached for the buttons on her shirt. He’d never leave without looking back at her one last time.

She didn’t think.

But then again, she’d messed up something awful.

Maybe this wasn’t the right way to tell him, but there were a hundred wrong ways to let him leave. And that was without trying again. Without reaching out, the way he’d done a hundred times.

She shrugged out of her shirt while he was still standing there. Her bra fell away next.

“When you’re feeling better, we’ll have to talk any…Moira?”

She looked at him through the fringe of her hair. He’d turned around.

She found no pleasure in knowing she’d been right. She was manipulating him and she hated herself, but if this would keep him here, with her, a little longer, until she could convince him she was tired of running, tired of pushing him away? Then she was going for it. When she reached for the button of her jeans, her fingers shook.

Gideon was staring at her, his chest rising and falling in a harsh rhythm. She thought maybe that if she reached out then, he might have turned and walked out. So she just pushed her jeans down her thighs, along with her panties. Naked now, she stood there waiting. She figured this was best. If he turned around rejected her while she was naked, vulnerable, maybe it would even the scales.

The old wooden boards of the floor creaked a little as he took one step, then another toward her. She licked her lips, hardly daring to breathe.

And what about tomorrow, Mac?” he asked. “You going to push me away…again?” She saw the answer he thought to be true in his eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.

“Mac?”

She held out her hand.

For the longest time, he didn’t move.

Then he did—toward her.

In the time it took for her to take a deep breath—whether it was to blow out in relief or to brace herself, she didn’t know—Gideon had hauled her up against him and she found herself pressed against the wall. She went to kiss his neck, but he tangled a hand in her hair and yanked, forcing her gaze to meet his. So she stood there, trembling and barely able to think past the want while he tore at the zipper of his jeans.

He let go of her hair but only so he could pick her up and brace her against the wall at her back. A moment later, he came inside her, hard and forceful and the screams trapped inside her lungs seemed to explode throughout her entire body instead. She could feel that scream—it had a taste, a rhythm, a need all its own and it belonged solely to the man who held her pinned to the wall.

He withdrew, slowly, still staring into her eyes.

She was wet, but not wet enough and his cock rasped over her tissues, an excruciating lesson in sensation. He surged inside her again and she was wetter now, taking him more easily. She went to kiss him, but he trapped her face in his hand, his palm at her neck while his thumb and index finger grasped her jaw.

“I’m watching you. I want to see you come…” He drove in harder. “I want to see you break…and damn you to hell, Moira. If you walk away again, you might as well put a knife in me.”