When she rises, two fingers sliding each side of where my cock disappears inside her body, collecting her cream to rub on her clit, my vision blurs. Her fingers between us, sliding up and down, my erection as it disappears in and out, connecting us, feels incredible.
"I need to touch you right now."
But instead, she strokes herself, whispering my name on a breathy moan, shaking her head to my demands.
I can't take it anymore.
On a deafening growl, the chain snaps with a crack that echoes in the small room as the broken links scatter across the pillow. My cuffed hands find her body.
Lisa gasps, staring at the pieces of metal, then at my wrists, then back at the pieces. "Those are... those are real handcuffs."
"I know." I don't care about hiding anymore. About pretending to be more, or less, than I am. All I care about is touching her.
My hands are already on her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones, pulling her down to me. When I kiss her, it's slowand deep, and nothing like before. There's no fighting, no fury, just a deep connection I can't resist.
"I'm yours," I murmur against her lips. "I was a goner the second you walked into that bar."
She shifts her hips, rocking slowly above me, her hands braced on my chest and fiery hair falling around us.
My hands travel everywhere I couldn't reach before, her hips and ass, cupping her breasts, mapping every inch of her while she moves.
Her rhythm stays slow, each roll of her hips drawing me deeper, and my grip tightens on her waist, fingers pressing into her skin as my back lifts off the mattress.
"Look at me." It's barely a whisper, and when my eyes meet hers, she's not hiding anything and neither am I.
Our powerful connection is laid bare between us as my hands slide into her hair and pull her forehead against mine. We breathe the same air, moving together, and when she comes, this time, it's quiet. A shudder that rolls through her whole body, her lips parted against mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I follow her with my face buried in her neck, arms wrapped around her as a tornado builds inside me with the strength of the emotions churning through my body and hers.
She lies on my chest afterward, my cock still inside her, with one finger tracing the ridge of a scar on my ribs.
My hand moves in slow circles on her back, and my bear is making a low, steady sound I can't remember him ever making before.
"You broke my handcuffs."
I stay silent.
She lifts her head and looks at me, and behind those blue eyes, the detective is working, but I'm grateful when something shifts, and she lowers her head back to my chest instead of pressing me further.
"I should care about how you did that more than I do," she mumbles into my skin, voice already drowsy.
My hand stills in her hair.
"And about my job. I’ll probably get fired for this." She huffs out something that's almost a laugh. "But all I actually care about, right this second, is this.” She snuggles closer to me. “And finding Amber alive."
Her breathing evens out within minutes. My hand keeps moving through her hair, my bear settled and warm, confident we’ll figure this out. That we can make it work somehow.
"You'll have to tell me, Beau," she mumbles, voice thick with sleep and eyes still closed, fingers curling loosely against my chest. My fingers still in her hair. "And soon."
24
LISA
When I wake up, stretching one sore leg out to the side, the bed is empty and the sheets beside me are cold. For one horrible second, I assume he’s gone, having ditched me, but then his low, sexy voice comes through the wall, and the knot in my chest loosens.
He's just next door with his colleagues.
Dragging myself upright, I check the time, ten o’clock, and catch sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I wince, my hair looking like I was dragged through a hedge backwards. There's a bite mark on my breast that's turned a spectacular shade of purple, and my lips are swollen. I look thoroughly, comprehensively shagged, and there's absolutely no way everyone next door doesn’t know exactly what happened in here.
