Her face drained of color. “Oh my God,” she whispered, swaying a little.
His hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her. “I didn’t plan on blurting that out.”
“Which Underground?”
“We have to assume all of them.” His voice hardened. “We’ve confirmed that some of the women moved between locations. That’s why you’re not safe at any of them. Not to mention the lax security, no monitors, or any kind of supervision. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t.” She looked up at him. “I was trying to get away from you.”
There it was. The truth he’d been avoiding, wrapped in eight simple words.
It hit like a slap. Not unwarranted. Still, it hurt.
He closed his eyes and exhaled.
“Leland…”
There was the softness. He looked down at her—luminous blue eyes, tempting pink lips—and knew exactly how much of a mistake he was about to make.
He didn’t stop, though. He moved closer.
His fingers tightened, and he pulled her in before he could stop himself. When he lowered his head to hers, she didn’t pull away. That was the end of his restraint.
The kiss wasn’t a seduction. It was a collision—weeks of distance and suppressed longing crashing over them all at once.
Her hands fisted in his shirt. His grip tightened on her waist, and he backed her toward the wall without deciding to. His body had already moved beyond his control.
She returned the kiss just as hard.
That was what broke him. Not her softness—her hunger. The way she came up on her toes to get closer, the small, desperate sound she made into his mouth.
He groaned in response, pressing her into the wall with his full weight. Leland lifted her without thinking. Her legs locked around his waist, arms twining around his neck.
“Julia.” Her name came out ragged, unsure of what he was asking.
She answered anyway, shifting against him; her need was unmistakable. Too much and not enough all at once.
Leland shoved her robe up with one hand, pulled her panties aside, and heard her gasp when his fingers found how ready she was. Somehow, he got his fly open and rolled on protection.
He pressed in slowly, jaw clenched, trying to hold on to the last fraying edge of his self-control. When her wet heat surrounded him, he stopped trying.
Julia’s soft moan skated over every nerve ending and down his spine. He mirrored it, only louder, as he set a rhythm that was far from his usual patience or control.
She matched him stroke for stroke, her hips surging to meet his, her nails finding his shoulders through his shirt. He made sounds he didn’t recognize as his own—a low, broken growl against her throat, utterly devoid of composure.
Her breath hitched, her body arching against his as her climax surged and tightened around him. He joined her, burying his face in her fragrant hair as they tumbled over the edge.
When the shudders left him, he framed her face with his hands and kissed her once more. When it ended, she eased away; reality returned to her eyes.
“What’s changed?” she asked, her soft voice shaking.
“I want you safe. You should come back where you belong.”
“To you, or Devil’s Pointe?”
He should have expected her to ask. Subconsciously, he had. When he didn’t answer fast enough, she averted her face, unlocked her legs from his hips, and pushed out of his arms.
She smoothed down her robe before she spoke. “I appreciate the warning, but I’m not your concern.”
