Page 135 of Dark Lover

He was poker-faced.

“Not the one Hemmer had,” she added, then realized how unnecessary that statement was.

“And ye think I gave Hemmer the first tape to blackmail ye?” His gray eyes darkened.

“I don’t really know what to think, except that you couldn’t have been all that surprised to see us making love in the future, because you’d obviously seen the DVD I found there.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t surprised.” He turned and started from the walk-in closet.

Shit, Sam thought, becoming angry. “Did you give Hemmer the damned sex tape?” She strode after him.

He whirled, facing her. “I didn’t give him the tape,” he said harshly. “But he might have stolen it from me.”

“Why did you have the tape in the first place, for God’s sake?” she cried.

“Because I was obsessed,” he shouted back.

She jerked. “What?”

He flushed, but his gray eyes blazed silver. “Ye heard me, Sam,” he said dangerously. “After we met in Oban, I got too hot to think clearly. I leapt to the future. I knew my homes were wired. I knew I’d have ye eventually. I went right to my security tapes and voilà, there we were.”

She reeled. “But you hate leaping.”

“I got drunk first,” he snapped.

It began to sink in. He’d been so attracted to her that he’d gotten drunk and leapt through time, all to find them on video together. She could imagine him sitting in a darkened room, watching them screw each other’s brains out—and watching them make love.

He slowly smiled. “Don’t worry. I enjoyed the tapes…a lot.”

Desire slammed into her. “I’m glad.”

The anger in his eyes faded, replaced by simmering warmth. Sam closed the step between them, seized the waistband of his jeans. “Not very many women would be happy with you right now,” she murmured.

“I don’t care about other women. I never have.”

She jerked him closer and he let her do so. “And you never will.” But he cared about her. She was certain.

He moved his hands down her jeans and cupped her buttocks hard. Then he paused. “Yer the woman who has my back. Ye’ll always have my back. Ye told me so.”

“Yes,” she whispered, her heart lurching. He was throbbing so urgently against her that it was hard to think straight. She wanted to blurt out her real feelings. That was crazy. Instead, she kissed his collarbone. “This is a really good time to celebrate, Ian. You won.” She kissed his throat. “Carlisle is dead.”

He moaned, heavier against her now. Pleasure began, rippling through her, and she reached down and undid her zipper. He helped her slide the tight denim down. “Why?” he asked roughly. “Tell me why yer so damned loyal?”

She moved closer and heard him even though his mouth didn’t move. Tell me why ye care so much?

She froze, no easy task with her body on fire. “Ian,” she breathed. “I think the time for talking is over.”

“No.” He slid his hand over the back of her head, threading his fingers through the wisps of her hair, and tilted her back over his arm. One hard thigh moved between hers. “Ye love me. Ye said so.” His gray stare held hers.

Damn it, she thought, her heart lurching. For the first time in her life, Sam Rose was afraid—of three words. “I can’t remember,” she lied, and instantly knew how pathetic the lie was.

He smiled. Then he walked her backward, their gazes locked. Sam knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t just her body. She didn’t know if she could or would ever get those words out again. The back of her body hit the wall of shelves. He’d kept one hand low, under her buttock, and she raised herself onto a shelf. He helped her.

It was awkward. The other shelves hurt her back, but who cared? She lifted her right leg and hooked it over his hip.

He finally tore his gaze from hers and looked at her mouth. “I want ye more than I did at Oban,” he said. “More than I did all those nights I watched the tapes. More than I did yesterday or this morning.”

Sam inhaled. “Good. The feeling is…mutual.” Isn’t it? she thought silently.