The guilt he carried with him daily only eased when he was with her. Those days in hospital beside her had seen some peace from the ghosts of his past. Damned if he even knew why. He barely knew her. But he was going to be selfish. And he couldn't even muster up the decency to be ashamed about it.

When he came to this apartment tonight, he had known things would end one way. What he hadn't counted on was her putting the moves on him. When she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, the implication that she wanted him was confirmed. He began to breathe. Her lips were soft and warm. He pulled back slightly. Her eyes were closed.

"Morena." He was aware that his voice was a throaty, scratchy version of itself.

She opened her eyes and he felt himself drown a little. He wasn't a fucking romantic. But here he was, lightheaded as fuck. Up close, her skin pink, dusted all those freckles, she looked so young. Too beautiful, too innocent, too good for someone like him.

"Christ, you always smell like fresh lemons." He traced the freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"It's my body butter. Don't you like it?"

In response he licked the pulse at the base of her throat. "I smell you everywhere. Jesus, you fucking torment me." He felt her pulse leap. He reached behind her and let her bun loose, brushing his fingers through her hair.

"What are you doing?" She was breathless.

"Fulfilling a god damn fantasy." His eyes locked with hers as his fingers fisted in her hair. Dragging her lips towards his, he whispered, "and doing this right darlin'," before crushing his lips to hers.

He poured his soul into that kiss. When their tongues met, his body blazed. Her lips opened immediately, granting him access to delicious secrets. The kiss was hot, wet, urgent, sexy. His hands angled her head, granting him better access, his tongue duelling with hers. She gave as good as she got.

She pushed at his kutte and it landed at his feet. In response, his hands went to the front of her gown and undid the sash. It parted, so did her legs. He stepped between them and their bodies pressed together for the first time. Cotton and denim separated yearning flesh. Mid-kiss, she gasped and pressed closer, plunging her hands into his hair.

Tig didn't know what he'd been expecting, but her passionate response did come as somewhat of a surprise. What she lacked in skill, she made up for in enthusiasm. He could kiss her mouth forever. Christ. But they needed to breathe and so his lips scorched a trail down her throat, his hands pushing the gown off and skilfully slipping under her t-shirt.

His hands cupped her breasts, the nipples already hard. She wasn't wearing a bra and her mounds spilled into his palms, the globes high and firm. He was hard. She was panting.

She dragged his head back to her mouth. He was drunk on her lips. He couldn't get enough. Their kiss had just become x-rated.

She tugged urgently at his shirt, no patience for the buttons, pushing her hands underneath. She bit his lip.

Tig's temperature soared. Her hands, tentative but willing, explored his skin. Goosebumps raced from the base of his skull to his fingertips. He was ready to bury himself inside her. They were wearing too much clothing.

Reluctantly he wrenched his mouth from hers. Her skin was deeply flushed, her eyes glazed with passion.

"Tig?" She searched his eyes, her lips swollen and wet.

"Are you sure? " He had never asked a woman that before.

She swallowed, her eyes dropping to his lips and then nodded. "Make love to me."

Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He didn't think he ever made love to anyone. That wasn't what he did. She needed to know that.

He scooped her off the chair and her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. She buried her face in his neck and placed hot, open mouthed kisses there before trailing up to nip at his ear.

I'm going to explode. Jesus, he felt like a fucking teenager.

The apartment was tiny, the direction of the bedroom didn't require much in the way of guesswork. He stumbled through it, their mouths fused in graphic delight. He groaned, she signed. He lowered her onto the edge of the bed.

He needed to be clear. "We're gonna have sex, darlin'." Not the most romantic thing he had ever said.

She didn't react; she simply climbed onto her knees and unbuttoned the few buttons that required attention on his shirt, silently pushing it from his shoulders. It fell to the floor.

He watched her eyes travel over his torso and examine his tattoos. He also saw her swallow.

Before he forgot, he reached around and withdrew his gun from the back of his jeans. With one hand, he ensured the safety was activated, his eyes never leaving hers; he placed it on her dresser. Next, he unstrapped his knife, placing it next to the firearm.

The physical evidence of who I am. You can still back out.

She didn't blink, only reached for his hand and pulled him down on top of her. His relief was like a physical pain. He thought he loved her in that moment. Immediate rejection of the notion. This was sex.

Cradled between her thighs, he removed her t-shirt, his bare chest pressed to her naked one, the silver reaper at the end of the thick chain around his neck rested between her breasts.

"You have sex with me." She pulled his head back down to her lips. "I'll make love to you."

His final defences crumbled. Jesus, I feel naked. It wasn't physical. He felt raw on the inside.

His hands moved, running across her smooth skin. Palms cupped her breasts and his mouth dipped to kiss them, the rosy peaks disappearing between his lips. Tig sucked on her nipples, losing himself to the sound of her accelerated breathing, her head thrashing from side to side. He rolled the bud between his teeth, the sting soothed with the flick of his tongue. He felt her thighs grip the sides of his torso. Her hands roamed across his torso, her fingers combing through the fine hairs on his chest. Her own tongue swirled around his nipples and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. Those hands continued their exploration, her nails digging into his back. The sweetest pain.

When she reached down and tentatively reached for his dick, he knew he couldn't let her continue. The pressure in his groin would not be able to handle her explorative ministrations.

He pushed her down and explored her body instead. Her skin was milky, the scent of lemons like a cocoon around him. He kissed her belly, relieving her of her pyjama bottoms and himself of the last of his clothes.

She tugged at his hair, wanting more, bringing their lips together in a hot, vulgar kiss. Fuck. She was perfect. Rough fingers delved between her thighs and he hardened even more. She was drenched. He pushed a finger inside her, then another. They glided right in, her walls convulsing around him. When she moaned against his mouth, he thought it would not be a bad way to leave this world. Her body was tight, hot and wet. And it was all for him.

"Please. Tig. Please."

He left her briefly to roll on protection and then parted her thighs, bending her legs at the knees.

His dick was huge. For most of the woman he'd slept with, because of who they were and what they did for a living, it wasn't a problem. But sometimes even they needed lube. While he suspected that he wasn't Morena's first, he would stake his fucking bike on the notion that her sexual partners were nowhere near as many as his.

"Baby, if I hurt you, I'll stop." Christ. Another first.

He entered her slowly, watching her. Inch by torturous inch, he made himself slow down, even when every instinct demanded he bury himself to the hilt. Her eyes widened, then closed, her teeth biting into her lip. Inside. All of him.

"You okay?" It took all his self control to remain absolutely still, braced on his forearms. His body was ready to surge, his hips poised like a stallion before a race.

She nodded. "I feel… full." She laughed.

He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, hooking her leg around his waist. Immediately her face told him the pressure had eased.

"Better?"

She shook her head, her lips nuzzling his own. "Not really." Her voice dropped an octave and she whispered, "I need you to move. Fast."

The muscles in his ass flexed when he felt her move. It was all the encouragement he needed. Whatever thoughts he had of taking it slow, she dispelled. She surged to receive him and he drove home. She was tight, but she had adjusted to the intrusion and his size, his passage eased by her body's natural juices. God, she was fucking wet. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, panting in his ear, moaning as her climax built.

As he stroked inside her, he made sure he hit her clit. She cried out then and he almost smiled. Almost. Because his own release was building, tension spreading throughout his entire body. Their mouths messed, his tongue plundering her mouth in much the same way his dick was. He felt her tremors increase. Morena gasped, moaned and then climaxed spectacularly, her walls contracting and releasing around him. He pumped once, twice and with a groan followed her.

He couldn't remember ever coming that violently before.

Jesus Christ. He knew he was in trouble.