But just as she was starting to really enjoy the sensations, he withdrew. And picked up the lube. A few seconds later, he pulled her buttocks open, and his cock probed her already tender anus.

Oh. Damn.

As he pushed in, her neck arched, bringing her head up. Ow, ow, ow. She attempted to stand.

His hand in the middle of her back kept her right there, positioned for his ruthless advance. “Don’t worry; this won’t hurt…too much.” And his voice was amused—and pleased.

Holy shit.

Slick with lube, he pressed and retreated, gradually working his way in.

Her tight ring of muscle burned and stretched, trying to adjust to his size—he was huge!—and it hurt. Yet, even as he advanced, her whole lower half seemed to flare awake, like the lighting of the giant Christmas tree in San Antonio.

“That’s right,” he murmured. “You can take me.” He forged in, relentless as only the Enforcer could be, doing what he wanted for his own pleasure.

Yet the knowledge he’d cared enough to satisfy her first was intensely erotic.

Cheek rubbing the cushions, she whined and squirmed as he impaled her. His hand on her back held her down, and she whimpered.

She could feel his thighs burn hot against hers. He was all the way in.

“Hurt, baby?” he asked.

“Yessssss.” Her answer came out a moan.

“Perfect.” His laugh was deep and gruff. He controlled her hips with an unyielding grip as he drew back unhurriedly and surged in. Over and over. When he halted and added more lube, the coldness of the liquid around the heat of his shaft made her tremble.

He thrust harder and faster until the slap, slap, slap of skin against skin, and the alternating full-to-empty sensations dominated her world. Dragged her back into need.

Her breathing changed. Her hips tilted up slightly.

And he paused…and chuckled. “Greedy little Texan.”

His boot between her feet pushed her legs so far apart that with every thrust, her clit rubbed the towel. Over and over.

Oh God, oh God. As if caught in a blender, her entire lower half spiraled up and up into soaring pleasure. She mewed, clawing at the cushions, as the world dissolved around her.

“That’s the spirit.” With a rough, guttural growl, deVries plunged into her so deeply she felt his groin grind against her bottom before he released.

***

Sometime later, she realized she was in a blanket, lying on the couch. Dizzy as a drunken coyote. She rose up on an elbow.

On one knee, deVries was cleaning off his equipment and packing it away in his terrifying-looking metal case. He glanced at her, assessed, clasped her shoulders, and moved her to a sitting position.

As he held her there, her world spun for a second before righting. Once her eyes uncrossed, she gave him a nod.

He handed her the glass of water on the coffee table. When had he gotten that? “Drink up, pet.”

Her hand shook only slightly as she took a sip and felt her desert-dry mouth absorb the liquid. She chugged most of the rest.

His lips quirked before he turned back to his packing.

When he was finished, he rose and took her glass to the kitchen. “Need more?”

She shook her head, not finding any words coming to mind. Thank you didn’t seem adequate. Sure, he was here because he wanted to collect on his prize from shooting her during war games; nevertheless, he’d also…well, okay, gifted her with an amazing orgasm with his violet wand toys. And again with anal sex.

He’d hurt her and liked it. But she’d liked it too. How did a person talk to someone she really didn’t know after having been so…intimate in such a strange way?

“First time I’ve ever seen you tongue-tied.” He squatted in front of her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You look befuddled.”

Good word for how she felt.

The living room lamps lightened the green flecks in his gray pupils, turning his eyes the color of a forest mist. She traced her fingers over the sun lines at the corners of his eyes, the strong angle of his jaw, his corded neck. Satisfaction lurked in the heaviness of his lids.

The knowledge she’d pleased him was a low hum in her veins.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” To her surprise, he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. He stood her on her feet outside the shower, turned on the water, and waited for it to warm. After setting her inside, he stripped and joined her.

The water felt wonderful on her sweaty body—and stung on a few of the more tender areas, so she turned around.

Oh wow, just look at him. The brighter bathroom lights played over deVries’s body. Totally, devastatingly gorgeous. All muscle. Leaner than a weight lifter, and somehow more dangerous. A purple bruise marred his forearm, mottled black-and-green bruises covered his hip, and above was a row of stitches. “What—”

When she looked up, his gaze was cold. Deadly.

Her mouth closed on the rest of the question.

As if she hadn’t spoken, he squirted some soap into his hand and scrubbed her down.

Eventually the chill disappeared from his eyes, letting her breathe.

When he stroked up her right forearm, he stopped and turned her arm toward the light. The long white-pink scar ran from her elbow to the back of her hand. Another, smaller one was on her left arm. So ugly. All the same, the window glass had cut her arms instead of her face; she wouldn’t complain.

Gray-green eyes narrowed, and his brows rose slightly.

No. She tilted her head toward his bruises and cuts. If he didn’t have to answer, neither did she.

After an uncomfortable moment, he gave her a raised eyebrow of acknowledgment and continued washing. Accepting her reticence.

Her breath eased out. Lying to him, right here, right now, after what they’d shared would have been unbearable.

His silence was a balm after the intensity before. With surprisingly gentle hands, he washed her efficiently, not lingering over anything, and merely the touch of his callused fingers made heat sweep through her.

God, she’d gladly mess around again. What was wrong with her?

But, once finished, he set her outside the shower and handed her a towel. “Go to bed, babe.”

She stared at him, unable to think of what to say. Drops of water glinted in the light furring on his chest, trickled down the line of hair to his cock. Made her want to follow it with her tongue.

His eyes crinkled. “You’re definitely befuddled.” Leaning down, he gave her a light kiss, turned her, and swatted her ass to move her out of the room.

In the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. He’d stepped back under the water to finish washing. What a strange man. Shaking her head, she donned a T-shirt and pair of panties. Should she wait for him?

Her wobbly legs answered the question by taking her to the bed. Her mama would be horrified at the discourtesy of not seeing a visitor to the door, but deVries was fully capable of letting himself out when he left.

She slid into her bed. The thousand-thread-count, Egyptian cotton sheets whispered sweetly against her sensitized skin as she sank down into the mattress.

A few drowsy minutes later, she watched deVries walk out. Beautifully naked. Holy God in heaven, he was ripped, from the hard curves of his biceps to the deep valleys carved between his pectorals. The line of black stitches above his left hip didn’t seem to affect him, whereas if her flesh had been slashed, she’d consider it an excellent idea to take a pain med, lounge around, and watch TV all day.

Bet the man had never lounged a day in his life.

When he walked past and into the living room, she sighed. He hadn’t said a word. Sure, he’d gotten what he wanted; even so, she’d thought he’d at least say good-bye.

To her surprise, he came back in, dumped his bag and case by the nightstand, and tossed his clothes on top.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up in the bed.

He ignored her and went back out, returning a few minutes later with the rope restraints from the couch. He tossed them on the pile of clothes. “Almost forgot these. Might have scared your guests.”

She choked at the thought. Not that she’d ever invited anyone here—it wasn’t really her place, after all—but still. “Discovery could be bad. So thanks.”

After he looked around the room, he ran his finger over the silvery silk quilt and cocked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like your style or color, babe.”

She shrugged. What could she say—it wasn’t.

The light from the living room cast shadows on his hard face as he stared down at her. She watched him. Why wasn’t he patting her on the ass and leaving? Everyone said the Enforcer was a fuck-’em and forget-’em sort of guy. To her surprise, he crawled under the covers with her.

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping. I’m wiped. Not safe to drive.”

“Oh.” Sleep with deVries? She swallowed hard. Before she could figure out how to say I’ll call you a taxi, he rolled her onto her right side and spooned behind her. Her bottom rubbed against his groin. His rock-hard arm over her waist pinned her down as he curved his left hand over her breast.

He wanted to cuddle? The Enforcer? “But—”

“Go to sleep, or you’ll spend the night gagged.”

Well. Yet, even as she searched for the answer to his obnoxious threat, her heart quickened. His gravelly voice alone could carbonate seawater—and when he exerted his will? She simply fizzed.

Unfortunately, all those hot, hot bubbles flowed straight to her pussy. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to still the throbbing. She wanted him again. Criminy, what was wrong with her?