McGuire grunted, mouth caressing her ear, his body rubbing hers with every thrust. “God, Riven, I can’t…”
He lowered his head, bit at the muscle threading from her shoulder into her neck. Likely leaving a light mark in his wake.
She shattered.
Imploded into a thousand pieces of white light as her orgasm washed over her, nothing but heat and McGuire’s body registering past the fire raging in her veins. He managed a few more passes before he stiffened, shouted her name as he emptied into her, each jerking thrust sending her a bit higher.
She clung to him, her head buried in his shoulder, her arms and legs cinched around his torso as she drifted on all that heat.
McGuire relaxed on top of her, bracing just enough of his weight she managed a few shallow breaths before he groaned, pushed onto one elbow. “God, what you do to me.”
She shivered at the rough tone, the one that sounded as desperate as she felt, then tugged him back down. “Not yet. I need more time.”
He chuckled. “You can have the rest of the day. All night, too. Though, maybe somewhere more comfortable.”
She blinked, smiled up at him. “This feels pretty damn perfect.”
“Right up until Patch walks in.”
She shrugged. “It’s your ass he’ll see, so…”
“Not sure who that would traumatize more.”
He sighed, yanked his boxers over his hips after he’d eased free before helping her up, drawing her against his chest as she sat on the edge, her legs hugging his, everything inside her still reeling. She rested her head against his shoulder, his heartbeat tapping out a shaky rhythm. The kind that pounded against her ribs, and she knew she’d been right.
Everything had changed.
McGuire held Riven, his heart racing, every nerve still electrified. As if he’d grabbed ahold of a live wire and couldn’t let go.
She did that to him. Bypassed his training. Had him making rash decisions because he couldn’t get the thought of touching her, making love to her, out of his head. Like a damn addiction he couldn’t shake.
He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d gotten under his skin. Dodged his defenses. If she’d been worming her way in since that night in Colombia, or if she’d simply bulldozed through his walls the moment she’d come clean. Either way, he had absolutely no intentions of letting go.
She hummed against him, the easy sound humbling him. Trusting him to have her back seemed simple compared to entrusting him with her heart. That he’d been honest when he’d said he was already gone.
The thought bounced around in his head, settling soft and warm inside his chest. Like a promise slowly taking hold. And for the first time since he’d walked off that plane and into the bayou, he felt at home.
That his future might be more than endless regret slowly sinking into the black water.
“Jesus, buddy, leave a damn sock on the door or something.”
Patch’s voice boomed through the rickety cabin, shaking the windows as he moved to the middle of the living room, arms crossed, scowl shaping his lips. He shook his head, looking as if he couldn’t decide on his next move before mumbling a hushed, “Fuck it,” then marching over.
He pushed past them, grabbed a mug and a plate, then started loading on food while pouring coffee almost over the brim. “You realize we eat at that table, right?”
McGuire helped Riven slip off, smiling at the way her knees buckled a bit before she caught her balance on his arm. “Please, you spend most of your time on the couch.”
Patch paled. “God, don’t tell me you’ve christened that, too.” He cut McGuire off with a sweep of his hand. “Don’t. Just let me live in my denial.” He took a few steps, stopped. “How close was I to walking in on all of that?”
McGuire laughed. “I don’t think you want to know that either. And in my defense, you’ve knocked every other day.”
Patch continued to the couch, kicked up his feet on the coffee table. “I thought I heard you talking.” He shivered. “God, now I’m thinking aboutthat,and I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
He shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth, chewed while looking disapprovingly over at them.
McGuire merely sighed, grabbed Riven’s hand, then led her back to the bedroom. They grabbed some clothes, had a quick shower, then settled on the couch. Patch nudged him once, looked at Riven, smiled, then got down to work, scrolling through photos of the different piers — CCTV and angles McGuire was certain Savvy had captured using one of the CIA’s satellites.
The day slowly bled into night, anticipation of the upcoming mission clawing away at the temporary life they’d carved out the past few days. At the sanctuary the old cabin had provided, even if it had been more illusion than substance.
