Too soon, yellow light sneaks between the curtains. Under my chin, a gorgeous redhead uses my chest for a pillow. Knowing I could easily become addicted to the warmth of her body, I should pull away—give her space. My counsel ignored, my hand traces slow circles down her back.
Fast-forwarding, I picture marriage, two kids, a house, a dog. Wrinkled, we hold hands as we walk along the beach. Before the image takes root, I tear it up. We made our boundaries. Two people having sex. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But why does it feel so wrong?
As if making a point, my morning wood pushes against her stomach. Eyes closed, she smiles, arching back. No doubt, her body wants me. Perhaps I need to accept that lust is all we will ever have. Tossing the depressing thought aside, I focus on the here and now.
Her breath warms my skin as she shifts closer. When I kiss her nose, she scrunches it up—so fucking adorable.
“Morning, babe.” My fingers thread through her silken hair.
As she reaches over my shoulders to the back of my head, her tongue plays with my mouth, pulling me into the moment. Once we’ve recharged, we can climb any peak fate throws at us.
Slowly, I inch my palm down her body until I cup her mound. Wet, slick folds send blood rushing south of my navel. Lifting her behind, she slides her panties to her calves. Her toe finishes the job.
“Hi.” As she wraps her legs around my waist, her green eyes darken, lips parting in a silent moan.
She’s my heaven, my home, someplace I never want to lose.
On top now, I place myself at her core. Arching, her breath hitches while her fingertips graze my skin. With a teasing grind and a shared gasp, I sink into her. In this moment, nothing else exists. Connected, body and soul, I bring us higher. As her heels press into the mattress, her nails bite into my back. Her mouth devours mine until I can barely breathe.
We kick off the covers as the temperature rises. Grinding, pulsing, pushing, we gain steam. My heart thumps, not only from physical exertion, but from the overpowering need to please her.
When she pants, I place my finger where we’re joined and blast off.
“Oh, God, Wildlife. I, ah. Ohh!” She screams, her body vibrating, locking on like she’ll never let go.
Delighted by her extreme enthusiasm, heat coils in my lower back. The tightening burns until it ignites into fireworks. I groan into her shoulder, shuddering as waves of orgiastic pleasure crash through me.
As we drift back to the surface, my brain disengages. “I love…”Oh shit. Do not say it…“waking up with you.”
Instead of retreating, soft, swollen lips brush across my neck to my ear. “Me too.”
Her admission should reassure me, but oddly, a prickling sensation skates up my backbone. Every hair on my arms stands on end. If this isn’t plain old uncomplicated sex… what the hell am I doing?
Before I can answer, an elevator chimes outside our door. As hushed, excited voices pass by, reality creeps up on us.
I wish I could make love to her all day, but we need to be on our way. Dante awaits.
Mid-fly-zip, a sharp rap on the door is followed by a man calling out, “Complimentary breakfast.”
Kelly’s eyes snap to attention. Tugging my earlobe to her mouth, she whispers, “There’s no such thing.”
Adrenaline floods my veins. Gun drawn, I raise a finger to my lips as I locate the peephole. A dark-haired man waits by a food cart, too stiff, too alert.
When we don’t respond, the guy pulls a weapon from his belt, knocking again. “Hello? Room service.”
“He’s armed.” After I pantomime my next move, she nods.
In a swift motion, I yank open the door, ramming the metal trolley into his midsection.
He gasps as he doubles over. One well-placed chop to his arm sends his pistol clunking to the carpet. A right hook to his temple, an uppercut to his jaw, and he’s out cold.
As I drag him inside and dump him in the bathtub, Kell grabs his sidearm and peeks between our curtains. “There’s two Iranians in the parking lot. I recognize them from last night. One is leaning against a sedan, the other is pretending to check his cell. But they’re watching.”
What a shit show. I crouch, patting down our unconscious visitor. A burner phone, a silencer, and a set of plastic ties. Professional.
O’Malley swears under her breath. “They’re not waiting for us to come out. They’re waiting for backup.”
