“Good.” He kisses my nose and then almost pulls entirely out of me before hammering back in. My core clenches around him as though I don’t want to let go. “Jesus, you feel good,” he grits out.
My response is a groan as he continues his brutal pace, telling me through panted breaths how beautiful I am, how much he needs me. I dig my fingernails into his back to hold on, realizing that, at this moment, I do feel beautiful.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks as he fills me, again and again.
Electricity spreads from my limbs, rushes across my body and up my spine. I put my hand against his chest and feel his warm skin. His corded muscle. The rapid beat of his heart.
My body hums. I can’t think, only feel. Sensation after sensation. His moan vibrates through me as if I expelled the sound. Ecstasy. Liam’s lips crash against mine. Messy. Desperate. Primal. I feel him everywhere.
As I shatter around him, a sense of wholeness fills me. Bliss. I know I can fall apart with Liam. I can trust that he will help put me back together.
We’re tangled in silence, our limbs a loose knot under the sheets, skin still warm and slick where we touch. My head rests on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he takes. He hasn’t said anything. Neither have I. There’s no rush. No expectation.
Liam’s fingers trail up and down my spine, barely there, like he’s memorizing me with touch alone.
“I told Ryan to do it,” he says after a long while, voice low, threaded with something heavy—guilt or maybe dread. “We’re going to blow up their accounts.”
“Explain.”
So, he does. He tells me about Ryan’s skills. The wild goose chase they planted. The way I messed it all up. Liam’s decision to get revenge. The Greeks are going to feel it—and soon.
He sighs. “It’ll make them mad. Sloppy, maybe. But we won’t get another shot like this.”
I lift my head to look at him, studying the sharp edges of his jaw in the dim morning light. “And then what?”
His throat bobs. “Then we hope the damage is significant enough that it cuts their influence and cash flow down before they can retaliate.”
I roll onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow. “They’ll come looking for who hit them.”
“Yeah, I worry about that too. I need to talk to my father before I give the order to start moving their money. My fear is that they’ll come looking for you,” he says quietly, gazing deeply into my eyes. “The account you tried to move—the passwords, the failed logins, the timing. It could look likeyoutriggered the breach.”
Something settles in my chest. Not fear. Something more useful.
“Then let them,” I say.
That gets his attention. His eyes, which had begun to wander down my body, snap back to mine.
“If they already suspect me, let’s make it convincing,” I continue. “Let me run. Let them think I’m scared. I’ll reach out to whomever I need to, use whatever channels Sam gave me. Make contact. You can trace it.”
His face is blank, unreadable—but his body has gone still beside me.
“I want to help,” I whisper. “I can help. You’ve got them looking for a leak—so give them one.”
His brows draw together, skeptical. “Taryn, this isn’t a game.”
“I know.” I brush my fingers down his arm. “But I’m not some fragile girl you married to protect. I’ve been in this world my whole life. Help me finally take my place in it.”
He studies me, the weight of a dozen arguments behind his eyes. But he doesn’t say no. He just says, “I need to think about this. I don’t like exposing you this way. I’d want to watch your every move. You understand me?”
“Good,” I murmur, settling back down against his chest. “Because that’s exactly what I want.”
“What you want,” he says slowly, looking for any sign of argument, “is to go to law school. Not this.”
I shake my head. “And, I will.” His eyebrows rise. “I’ll go to law school in the fall. I still want to be a lawyer. But a good friend once told me that I didn’t have to choose. So, I’m not going to. I can be your wife, a lawyer, and hey, I can be the Robin to your Batman. Only I’d have way better aim.” Ugh. I blame my youngest brother and his comic book addiction for that last stupid analogy.
My husband is quiet. Contemplative.
“Liam?”
