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Jack had known from the moment he kissed Megan in the plane hours earlier that he would be in her bed tonight. One kiss did not satisfy him; he’d been tasting her ever since. He was intoxicated with the need, on the verge of losing control. He never lost control. Not in life, not in the field, and not in bed with a woman.

But with Megan, he felt that hard-wired control slipping away, her body both sexy and timid, arousing him beyond reason. He wanted her now, all of her, without hesitation. Her skin was soft, her muscles hard. The contrast was as sexy as the woman herself. She had no idea how he’d craved her, no idea that the minute she burst into the jail cell when Carlos Hernandez’s goons were trying to kill him that he’d wanted her just like this. Naked. With him. In bed.

Her hands were everywhere, his head, his back, squeezing his biceps. Her legs moved as well, up and down his calves, her back arching whenever he eased up, trying to catch his breath, trying to slow things down. Slow things down before he couldn’t. But slow meant being in control, and his last thread of restraint snapped.

He didn’t want slow. He wanted now.

He put his hand between her legs, damp from the pool, damper with desire. She gasped when he pushed his finger into her. He leaned up, watched her face. The way her flushed face glowed. Her lips red and swollen from his relentless kisses. Her hair was wet and loose around her head, tangled and wanton. Her eyes were half-closed, and she licked her lips, her breath heavy, her fingers clutching his shoulders as she sighed.

“Look at me.”

She opened her eyes at his command. He kissed her softly, his tongue and lips trailing up to her ear and back to her mouth. He stared into her eyes, so dark green and so deep he could drown in them.

This moment in time was perfection.

He forced himself to enter her slowly, easily. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his calves. For a moment they both froze, as if they’d reached a juncture and didn’t know which way led to safety, which way to destruction.

“I want you, Megan.” He sank into her, not knowing which path this union would ultimately take, but willing to fight for them, this primal possession unfamiliar but real. More real than anything Jack had felt or believed in for a long, long time.

He wanted her, yearned for her, needed her. He couldn’t articulate it, he couldn’t fathom how he could have Megan in his life. It was an overwhelming sensation of rightness as he wrapped his arms around her, holding himself deep inside her, wanting to go slow, to savor her touch, her smell, her tightness, her trust. But slow wasn’t in the cards, not this time, as the blood rushed from his head and Jack could no longer think, and all patience disappeared.

Megan lost her ability to reason as Jack began to move deep inside of her, slowly, the muscles in his neck tense with forced restraint. She put her hands on his tight backside and held him inside her, wanting to stay like this forever, but needing to rush the explosion that was building rapidly within her. It was as if all the energy in the room, in the city, in the entire state, had merged within them, combustible, waiting for the blast.

“If you touch me like that I’m going to lose it.”

“I. Am.” She couldn’t finish her sentence. She had lost all common sense and reason when he touched her at the pool. She knew then that they’d only be able to appease their desire in bed. It was lust, pure animal lust.

But it felt so much bigger than simple sex. She didn’t want to think too much for fear their connection would slip away.

His slow strokes moved faster and dove deeper. She gasped, her hands running up his back, squeezing, to his shoulders, her short nails digging in as she felt the last of her energy rushing to the spot where their friction generated combustible heat.

They were in sync, their bodies moving together for the mutual benefit and need to pleasure the other, skin slick with perspiration. Meg closed her eyes again, the sensation of their flesh together so dominate, so volatile. Her hands gripped his shoulders.

“God. Jack.”

He kissed her, his lips moving in rhythm to their hips, and she cried out into his mouth as her body turned inside out, releasing her lust, her mind, and her heart to Jack.

When Megan’s body shook beneath him, Jack let go. It had been an inner battle to hold on as long as he did. He wasn’t a teenager anymore-what was with this insatiable need? He’d gone in too fast, unable to stop himself. He didn’t lose control.

Until now.

He rolled over onto his back, bringing her with him. Kissed her over and over again. Her skin tasted of salt and chlorine.

“Now,” he said, “I can do it the right way.”

“If that was the wrong way, I like the wrong way.”

He smiled and kissed her.

“I want to make love to you.”

“And what was that?”

“That, darling, was sex. Pure lust. Now I’m going to make love to you.” He kissed her. “Slowly.” He brushed her hair away from her face and licked her forehead. “Very slowly.” His heart still raced and he felt hers pounding against his chest. His hands caressed the side of her face. “You’re beautiful, Megan.”

His hands ran down her body as she rested on top of him, breath heavy and satisfied on his chest. He loved the taste of her, especially now, her body hot and slick and relaxed. She seemed to melt all over him, as relaxed as a purring cat.

His fingers trailed down her spine, to her waist, and over rough skin. Feeling … what was that? He circled his hand over the unexpected texture of her flesh.

She tensed and tried to roll away. He didn’t let her. He pulled her back. “This was where you were shot?”

“Yes.” Her voice was clipped.

She didn’t want to talk. Jack wasn’t going to let her remain silent. The light was dim, but he sat up and wiggled her around until he could see the wound clearly.

The scar was large, part of it round, part an incision from where the surgeon had gone in to remove the bullet. But it wasn’t a small invasion. It had been major surgery to remove her damaged kidney.

“I know, it’s ugly.”

He kissed her scar. “All better.”

She’d turned her head away from him. He turned her head back. Her eyes watered. Oh, God, no. He couldn’t take tears. Not these kind of tears.

“Sweetheart, if you think a little scar is going to bother me, you don’t know me.”

As he said it, he realized that they didn’t know each other. Not the details. He didn’t know where she was born, where she grew up, if she had brothers or sisters, why she and her mother didn’t get along.

But he knew her heart and her mind. He could predict with relative certainty what she would say or do. He knew the important stuff. Her compassion was endless and her sense of right and wrong well formed. She was worthy of love. To love and be loved. Jack didn’t know if he was worthy of her.

Megan stared, eyes probing his, and he kissed her. He didn’t care, he would do anything to keep her in his life.

He might not know everything about her, but he knew that she fit with him. He wasn’t good with emotions or explaining his thoughts and feelings. That was why he’d been estranged from his family for so long. He was a man of action. Do it, don’t talk about it.

But something about this scar bothered Megan deep inside. She’d been flip yesterday when she told him about being shot in the back. But she wasn’t flip about it now.

He kissed her lightly on the cheek, and adjusted their bodies so that she was spooned closely against him, his arms tight around her, his lips on her ear.

“Tell me.”

“I have one kidney.”

“I know.”

It took her a minute to speak. He didn’t move. He wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Megan.

“I was ambushed. I wasn’t watching my back when I should have been. And took a bullet. It’s only one kidney, and it’s gone, and yeah, it still bothers me, but I’m fine.”