Darius nodded. “Riggs sent him a text. Watts apparently decided to take matters into his own hands and rescue Riggs.”
Sasha listened as Darius told her how he’d been crossing the street when Watts had shown up in his truck, heading straight toward him.
“I drew my weapon, but he got off a few shots. I went down. Marcs dragged me out of the path of the truck, saved my life. SWAT returned fire. It took me a minute to realize the rounds hadn’t penetrated my vest.”
“That must have been scary and so painful.”
“It’s not on my list of things to do again.”
“Bren is in jail?”
“In jail—and facing serious charges now.”
“What about his friend—this Watts guy?”
“Dead. SWAT took him out.” Darius seemed to study her. “Are you okay hearing all of this? I know it must be a lot after what you’ve been through.”
“I …” Sasha wasn’t sure what to say. “I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe that Bren would have his friend try to kill me. I’m sorry that this Watts person did what he did and died as a result. But I’m so, so grateful that you’re safe and here with me tonight.”
He touched a hand to the ice bag. “I certainly have a better understanding of what you’ve been going through.”
“We’re twins.” Sasha untied her bathrobe and carefully lifted her cami to show him her bruises. “Our injuries came from the same jerk.”
His brow furrowed. “God. I’m so sorry.”
He reached out, ran his fingers gently over her skin, his touch leaving a trail of heat, making her gasp. His gaze met hers once again. “I want you, Sasha. I’m working your case. I shouldn’t want you. But I do.”
Sasha’s breath caught in her throat.
Then he leaned closer, let the ice bag fall away—and kissed her.
Chapter16
Heart slamming in his chest,Darius held himself back, brushing Sasha’s lips with his, her minty taste and the clean scent of her skin filling his head. He teased her lips with teeth and tongue, his senses focused entirely on her response—the way she tensed, that little intake of breath, the hand that slid hungrily up his arm. When she parted her lips, he took what she offered, seeking her tongue with his.
God, yes.
He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he didn’t give a damn. For a few short moments today, he’d thought his life was over. In the confusion of pain, gunshots, and sirens that had followed, Darius had thought only of Sasha.
He was damned lucky to be alive—and so was she.
Mindful of her injuries, he cupped her cheek to hold her in place, at last claiming her mouth in a full-on kiss.
She moaned, the sound igniting a backdraft inside him, years of restraint going up in flames in the span of a single heartbeat.
It had been so long since he’d let himself go, so long since he’d felt this way for a woman, so long since he’d ached like this. His head was spinning, his body shaking, need for her thrumming in his chest. Fighting to restrain himself, he drew back, looked into her eyes, both of them breathing hard.
She stood, took his hand. “Come.”
He knew where she was leading him. He knew where this would go. And still, he followed her.
When they reached her bedroom, she turned to face him and let her bathrobe fall to the floor, standing there in a pink pajama camisole and matching shorts.
She started to pull her camisole over her head, but he stopped her.
“Let me.” He took hold of the soft fabric, lifted it over her head, and let it fall to the floor, then drew down the shorts and tossed them, too.
The breath left his lungs in a rush. “You are …beautiful.”
