Home > Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(52)

Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(52)
Author: Christine Feehan

Mack framed her face. “Don’t look so sad, Jaimie. We’ll make it.”

She wanted to believe that, but she’d seen the evidence stacking up against them and it was enormous. The GhostWalkers had enemies in their own camp. “I’m not like you, Mack. You rush in where angels fear to tread. You really do. You think you can save the world.” She gestured toward the stairs. “Every single one of us—Javier, Kane, me, Rhianna—all of us were broken and you picked us up and fixed us. You’d charge hell with a bucket of water. Nothing scares you. Nothing at all. You just do it.

Whatever is required. You get it done.”

“Being without you scares me,” he admitted in a low, reluctant voice. He kept his gaze fixed on her averted face. She was so elusive, just out of reach when they’d crawled into each other’s souls. How the hell had she slipped away again?

Her head jerked up and she looked at him. He could read her shock, but didn’t understand it. Hell. She’d ripped out his soul when she’d left. Her tongue touched her lower lip, drawing his attention to the sweet, sexy curve of it. He couldn’t resist and leaned forward to catch the silken bow between his teeth, tugging gently before he kissed her.

Jaimie blinked up at him, that baffled, dreamy look he found utterly sexy on her face. She touched her lips. “I don’t understand you, Mack. I asked you about our future and you said we didn’t have one. You weren’t ready for the old ball and chain.”

There was enough raw hurt in her voice to make him wince.

“And when we had sex I could feel your emotions.” Now her voice was strained, so low he had to lean into her to hear. “You were angry, but more importantly, you resent wanting to be with me. Resentment is powerful and it overshadows a lot of other things. There’s no mistaking it. It’s hard to understand our relationship when you’re so resentful.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never been one to want to need someone, Jaimie. How hard is that to understand? It’s damned hard admitting to myself let alone you that I can’t do without you. You’re like some f**king addiction I can’t get rid of.”

She actually hunched, feeling the punch in her stomach. She swallowed the rising lump in her throat, determined to go all the way. If he wanted her to talk before walking out, then she was going to do it. “What about love, Mack? You’ve never once said you loved me.”

He shoved a hand through his hair in a quick, almost angry gesture, his eyes glittering. “What the hell do you want from me? I just told you how I felt. A few minutes ago you were screaming my name and begging me not to stop. What we have together is good. Great. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Except you want to be rid of me.”

He threw his hands into the air. “Of course that’s all you heard.” He was the one who was always in control. He had discipline in every aspect of his life but one.

Jaimie.

There was no discipline with her. No restraint. He turned into an animal, a jealous, primitive beast he barely recognized. Was he supposed to be proud of that?

Just looking at her with her silky curls tumbling in disarray around her face, that mouth that was every man’s fantasy, he closed his eyes, remembering how he’d taught her to use it for his pleasure. He’d taught her—everything. And Jaimie always gave herself to him without reservation. He’d been older, her protector. He knew she was smarter, but he could keep up with her intellectually and provide the stimulus she needed for her mind. The rest, well, frankly, he was the dominate one.

He’d always had the upper hand in their relationship. He’d always known he could walk away from her and be just fine. Until she’d left him. He realized how much he actually managed to fool himself. Jaimie’s hold on him was impossible to break. He thought he owned her but it was the other way around. Hell, yeah, he resented it. What man wouldn’t? No other woman would do for him.

No one had touched her before him. Two long years. He saw the way Spagnola had looked at her. Had Spagnola touched her? He couldn’t ask. Didn’t want to know.

He was afraid of what he might do to the other man. Mack rubbed his pounding temples. What the hell was wrong with him? Hell, yeah, he resented that she could make him this crazy.

Jaimie shook her head. “We’re back to exactly the same place we were before I left. You were fine there, Mack, but I wasn’t. I don’t want to base my entire relationship on sex. You can have sex with anyone. Women fall all over you.”

“We don’t just have sex, honey; we have spectacular sex. Come on, you have to admit, no one can do what I can to you—with you.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know that.”

He went very still. Inside, something dark and dangerous moved, coiled and ready to strike. Every vestige of amusement was wiped from his face. He looked what he was, lethal and frightening as he stepped very close to her. “We have an understanding, Jaimie.” His voice had gone very quiet again. Violence rode him hard.

Aggression. All the characteristics that made him great at hunting prey stared out at her through his eyes, and he let it.

“Do we?” She stared right back, not wilting like the Jaimie of old.

He wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck and drew her to him. “Don’t f**k with me about this. We’re going to make it work.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you don’t have one romantic bone in your body?”

His gut knotted, hard, brutal twisting lumps of fear. “Is that what you need to be happy with me, Jaimie? Pretty words?”

Jaimie studied his face. His expression was a mask. Unreadable. But he was holding his breath. Actually holding his breath. If she didn’t answer him soon, he was going to turn blue.

“I’d like you to say how you feel about me now and then, Mack. A relationship can only work so long built on sex. What happens if we can’t have sex? Is it over for us? Do you just move on?”

He scowled at her. “How shallow do you think I am?”

“I’m looking for a partnership.”

“You had that.”

“Did I? You didn’t listen to a word I said, Mack. You’ve always led and I followed, but not blindly. I went with you because you made sense. When you didn’t, when we were walking into something dangerous, I expected you to talk it over with me first, to at least listen to what I had to say.” She sat on the edge of the desk, barefoot, inhaling the scent of sex and his skin. She loved the way he smelled.

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