Then he dropped to his knees and claimed her with his mouth. He’d learned a lot about her last night, and he put all that sexual knowledge to use now, lavishing attention on her clit, sliding a finger inside her to stroke her.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, spread her legs wider, her toes curling, her breath going ragged.
God, yes.
She tasted so good—like desire and woman.
He willed himself to be patient, to give her enough time to get close to the edge. He knew he wasn’t going to last long this time, his cock aching. When her hips started moving, thrusting toward his face, he lost it.
He stood, positioned himself between her thighs, and slowly buried himself inside her wet heat, carefully encircling her waist to support her. “Sasha. God, you feel good.”
She felt even better than he remembered. But any notion he’d had about going slowly went up in flames when she wrapped those athletic legs around him and held him close. He thrust into her, driving deep and fast, her heels digging into his ass, the pressure somehow adding to his pleasure.
They both moaned with every thrust, her head falling back, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted. He kissed her throat, inhaled her scent, tried to focus on her pleasure. Oh, but he was losing this battle.
Panting. Sweating. Heat rising. His self-control melting.
She cried out as she came, pleasure lighting up her face, the sight of her driving Darius over the edge, the two of them falling together through fire into paradise.
Chapter19
The next fewdays were magical for Sasha. She was still healing and slept more than usual during the day. But at night…
No man had ever made Sasha feel the way Darius did—giddy, breathless, as if she were out of her mind in the best possible way. She was crazy in love with him. She hadn’t told him. It had all gone so quickly. It made no sense.
Still, Sasha was in love with him.
It wasn’t just the sex that blew her mind. It was Darius. His stiff suits and seriousness had concealed a sensitive man with a big heart. Every day, he seemed to laugh a little easier and smile more.
Sasha knew he would solve her case sooner rather than later and that they would have to decide what would become of their relationship. But she couldn’t worry about that now, not when he was here with her.
On Wednesday, he took time off to go with her to get her stitches out and was the first to sign her bright pink cast.
A true champion — Dare
Later that afternoon, Chief Randall called to tell Sasha he was withdrawing her protection detail because he didn’t have the staff. “I can’t keep this up without giving myself a heart attack. I need Tommy and the others back. I’m too old to be chasing people myself.”
Apparently, Chief Randall had already contacted Darius, who shot her a text a moment later to ask whether she was okay with his staying at her place from now on.
As if she would object to that…
When it came to her case, he shared very little. She knew they were still looking for the guy who’d driven the stolen SUV and that the FBI had gotten involved. But he wouldn’t tell her more.
“It’s an ongoing case, so I really can’t talk about it,” he’d told her that night, holding her in his arms. “If we weren’t sleeping together, you would only hear from me when I had questions or news to share.”
Because Sasha knew it was important for him to maintain professional standards of conduct, she quit asking. He was already breaking the rules by being with her. She wouldn’t push him to do anything more.
On Thursday morning, Scott, her manager, called to insist she do a slate of interviews. “The biggest news of the world championships is that you won’t be there. People want to know what happened. Your sponsors really want these interviews, kiddo. You won’t be competing or climbing for a while, and they need this from you to justify the big dollars.”
Sasha didn’t feel like she had any choice. She sent a quick text to Darius, explaining the situation and asking him if he thought it was safe for her to tell reporters the truth. Most people still didn’t know that her cyclingaccidenthad been a deliberate act of violence.
Darius called her. “Please don’t mention any of the suspects or Watts’ death. So far, it’s only gotten a mention in the local papers. If people learn it’s related to an assault against you, I’m afraid it will blow up. We’re hoping the driver doesn’t know Watts is dead so we can take advantage of having his phone.”
Sasha did five interviews over the phone that afternoon, maintaining the cover story of her bicycle accident, and answering their many questions.
Yes, she was lucky to be alive. Yes, she missed being in Bratislava with her climbing friends. Yes, her injuries were healing, and she would be climbing again soon. No, she wasn’t upset that her five-year winning streak had come to an end. She was bound to fall off that pedestal sooner or later, right? Yes, she had the highest score moving into this final competition of the year, but she couldn’t say with certainty that she would have won if she’d competed.
“They’re more obsessed with trophies than I am,” Sasha told Darius that night, the two of them snuggled together, replete and naked, on her bed. “I like to win, but there’s more to life and climbing than trophies.”
