Revenge by Meli Raine

Like a drug.
    Chase had called Mark in desperation and the two saved her from a fate worse than de ath .
    Being attached to things doesn’t make sense when you live a life like Mark’s.
    Being attached to people doesn’t make much sense, either.
    A sense of unreality makes me blink, over and over. I wonder for a split second whether I’m expendable. I left him three years ago. I t was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Would it be as hard for him to disappear on me? What do I mean to him? Last night I gave him everything I have—mind, body and soul.
    We claimed a sensual connection between us that we couldn’t continue to fight. Fate makes you act in strange ways. The pu l l of fire and heat in Mark’s eyes was too strong to keep at bay. Knowing so many truths makes me realize how hard it is to hide. It takes all your energy to keep your own truths from leaking out.  
    Keeping secrets is harder than facing the truth. At least when you face the truth you deal with the consequences.
    When you have to hide your truth, all you get is a big dose of isolation.
    “Hey,” Mark says in a voice that sounds like the purr of a big lion. He’s carrying two mugs of coffee and hands me one. I sit up and try to keep my breasts covered with the sheet.
    He gives me a wide grin. “You know I’ve seen those before. And I’m happy to see them again.”
    I n that moment I realize he’s naked, too.
    Oh, my. The view is extraordinary. His body is like carved marble and forged steel. Each muscle bulges or rolls, curving along slopes as skin str e tches over so much power. He has a body honed by athleticism and precision. All that work in the military, with the DEA, has made his body close to perfect.
    And then there are the scars.
    Last night I touched a few. In the morning light I see so many. Light hair covers his strong thighs and the chiseled contours of his chest and abs. Underneath, though, I see criss-crossed scars from scratches. The jagged edge of a thicker wound. The flesh-toned scarring that looks like an amoeba.
    A s he crawls under the sheets he presses his legs against my soft thigh. The contrast makes me smile.
    And heat up.
    “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the amoeba-shaped scar. It’s under his hip. As I point, he moves slightly, and my finger lands somewhere other than his thigh.
    “That?” he says with a throaty laugh. “You need me to tell you what that i s called?” He hardens against my fingertips and I join him in his chuckle.
    “No, I know that perfectly fine. In fact, let me show you how well I know that ,” I whisper, threading my fingers around his shaft. Mark inhales sharply, the air whistling between his teeth and soon, my question about the scar fades as I watch him descend into ecstasy. Ecstasy caused by me and only me.  
    He may be the big federal agent undercover trying to protect me, but in this moment I have all the power.
    His body tenses, every muscle corded and taut as my hand takes him right where expected. Suddenly, his palm wraps around my wrist. I’m in an iron grip and can’t move. He flips me, so fast and powerfully I’m on my back in less than a second, his hot chest covering mine, his mouth slanting and claiming. His tongue speaks in nine different languages without saying a word. Our breath comes in fits and starts as I open my legs.
    Desire pools in me, unquenched and insatiable. How can I want more when last night was so much more than enough? He kisses a trail down to my collarbone and reaches down with one hand.
    “You’re so wet,” he murmurs. I moan at his touch. He takes this as encouragement and he should. This feels so good.
    This feels so right .
    Nothing is between us now. No secrets. No lies. No cover-ups. No misunderstandings. No clothing. No pretense.
    Nothing is between us but our own respect and hope and love and mutual desire to be together in every way possible.
    As his abs slide against my belly and his mouth takes one nipple in, his tongue frenzied