“What kind of decision?” Sabrina frowned, feeling her heart kick up a notch. And not in a good way.
Instead of answering, Graham simply told her, “Take a coupla minutes to get dressed. I’ll meet ya downstairs.”
He dipped his chin before disappearing down the hall.
Hew closed the door behind him with maybe a smidge more force than was necessary. When he turned back to Sabrina, his whole demeanor had changed.
Gone was the tease. Gone was the flirt. In his place was the guy who kept his blades sharp and his powder dry. The guy who acted as an umbrella when bullets started raining down.
“I can tell ’em all to fuck off,” he offered, the tightness of his jaw highlighting its angularity.
“No.” She pushed the covers away and reached for her discarded clothes. “If Graham says I still have a part to play, I’ll play it. It’s the least I can do.
“Come here.” He issued the command from between clenched teeth. “I need one more kiss.”
She dropped her clothes and walked to him naked, uncaring of what jiggled or sagged or swayed. All that mattered was him and how he made her feel beautiful and safe.
Made her feel…loved.
Going up on tiptoe, she framed his face with her hands—reveling in the scratchy feel of his beard against her palms—and kissed him.
God, the freedom to kiss him…
She still couldn’t believe it. Had spent months dreaming about it, only to realize her fantasies didn’t hold a candle to reality.
His body was a wall of unyielding strength. His mouth was fire and velvet, kissing her like…well…like he kissed her. Which was unlike anyone else.
When she finally pulled away, she was pleased to see his eyes were hot with a lust that mirrored her own. That was just the impetus she needed to hurry up and get dressed.
The sooner she did whatever needed doing, the sooner she could return to him. The sooner she could pull him back into bed. The sooner they could start making a dent in that strip of condoms.
“Now I want to tell ’em to fuck off for purely selfish reasons,” he admitted hoarsely.
She donned a coquettish smile as she pulled on her panties and jeans. “How about instead of that, you promise to fuck me when this is over?”
He grabbed her hips before she could snap her bra shut and hauled her against him. His wide chest was hot against the hard tips of her breasts. His lips were warm and hungry on her throat.
“Deal.” He nipped at her earlobe. “Where do I sign?”
She grinned and backed up a step so he could see her point to her left nipple. “Here,” she told him, her voice dropping an octave as her hand slid lower, past the waistband of her jeans to disappear inside the denim… “And here.”
He shuddered. Actually shuddered. And then groaned like his want of her physically hurt him. When he reached down and adjusted himself, she realized maybe it did.
Feeling beautiful in a way she never had before, feeling powerful in a way she never had before, feeling…like her old self, but even better, she told him seriously, “Thank you, Hew.”
He clocked the change in her mood and blinked in confusion. “For what?”
“For reminding me how nice it can be to be wanted. For helping me find that part of myself I worried was lost forever. For being patient and gentle and…” She searched for the right word. “Thorough,” she finally finished with a teasing grin.
“And we haven’t even scratched the surface,” he promised before pulling her back in for another kiss.
It was more than a couple of minutes before she made it to the War Room. Graham’s slow, smug smile said he knew exactly what had kept her.
“So?” She tried to act nonchalant—and failed if Graham’s low chuckle was anything to go by. “What can I do to help?”
“No Hew?” he asked.
“He’ll be along. He was lacing up his boots when I left.”
