Page 60 of Lock ’N’ Load

Moving to stand between his parted legs, she cupped the side of his face. “It doesn’t matter why you built Jerry’s Place. What matters is that it’s here, and soon it will be up and running, ready to help kids who need it. I don’t need to tell you, you can’t change the past. But you can change the future and make it better for others, which is exactly what you’re doing.” The hand against his face was cool and comforting. “Building this place was the easy part. Finding a way to live with the past is going to be a lot harder, but you have to try because it’s eating you up inside. I’m guessing you don’t think you deserve to be happy, but you do. Jerry wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

Matt gazed into her eyes, and for a moment, he could envision what it would be like to be happy again. As soon as he did, the image sparked and caught fire, burning to black ash. Closing his eyes, he exhaled through his mouth. The next thing he felt were Trista’s arms around him, urging his head to rest in the crook of her neck.

One hand gently stroked the top of his head while her other massaged the tense muscles of his back. When she dropped a light kiss on his head, he wrapped his arms around her, spreading his legs wider so he could pull her slim body even closer. He breathed in the shampoo she’d used to wash her hair and the soap she’d undoubtedly rubbed over her smooth, soft skin. Her full breasts pushed against his chest, stirring an urgent need that zinged straight to his groin. But there was something deeper at work here. In the twenty years since Jerry’s death, he’d never known a single moment of real peace, but he was finding it now. In her arms.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he sighed. And when she pulled back and gazed down at him with parted lips, he kissed her.

Slipping his tongue inside, he tasted her sweetness, savored it, craving more. Angling his head, he slanted his mouth, rubbing his lips gently across hers. Her fingers sifted through his hair, leaving a trail of tingles on his scalp that spread lower until he felt a discernible pressure against the zipper of his khakis.

Moaning lightly, she opened her mouth, urging him to deepen the kiss. Her tongue met his with an astounding expertise, swirling and tasting him as much as he’d tasted her.

He slid his hands lower, gripping her ass, hauling her against his now-full erection while he shifted his kisses to a sensitive spot just below her ear. When she arched her neck, the tops of her mounded breasts peaked out above the V-neck of her shirt.

It was a temptation he’d be a fool to resist.

Matt slipped his hand along her rib cage to caress one breast, then he slid his hand to her other breast, feeling her heart thudding wildly, matching the tempo of his own. In her eyes, he glimpsed pure, unabashed passion, and in that moment, he’d never wanted a woman more.

He bent his head, dropping kisses on the lush mounds, caressing both of her breasts before flicking at the hardened nipples with his thumbs. Vaguely, he heard another groan, this one canine as Sheba lay down on the hard concrete floor, clearly disappointed at no longer being the center of anyone’s attention.

Just as he slipped one hand under her shirt, his cell phone rang. “Dammit.” Now it was his turn to groan, as he reluctantly released Trista to tug the phone from his belt. It was Jake’s name on the screen. “Hello,” he heard himself growl.

“Hey, buddy,” Jake said. “Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but…”

Whatever Jake said next, Matt didn’t hear, because Trista had her lips on his neck and was inching her way to his ear. When she got there, her tongue began doing amazing things, invading every groove with hot, wet heat and making the pressure between his legs grow to painful extremes.

Holy hell! Where did she learn to do that? He didn’t really want to know because the idea of her doing it to anyone else had him gritting his teeth.

“Can you hear me?” Jake shouted in his ear.

“Uh, no.” He reluctantly eased away from Trista, giving her a playful grin. “You must have blanked out for a second.”

“I said, he’s dead.”

Matt stiffened. “Who’s dead?”

“Viktor Solonik. The Russian who tried to kill Trista.”

Chapter Seventeen

When Matt pulled his truck around to the back door, Nick helped her inside, handing up the overnight bag she’d quickly packed at Matt’s direction. They were heading to Charlotte, North Carolina, a six-hour drive.

Early this morning, the man who’d tried to kill her—Viktor Solonik—had been found floating in the Potomac, his throat sliced. With the Russian thug dead, Matt had told her his theory that whoever was pulling the strings was tying up loose ends. Since Solonik had botched the job twice, the man had turned into a liability.

The reporter still hadn’t returned Matt’s calls, so they’d decided to take a road trip. Totally against CIA orders.

Sheba poked her head through the open window between the passenger compartment and the back of the truck. Lifting her hand to pet the dog’s head, she realized the animal’s presence was reassuring. Between Matt and Sheba, she felt very well-protected.

“I’ll check in at six,” Matt said to the other man.

“You sure you don’t wanna leave her here with us?” Nick gave Matt a cocky grin. “We love the pixie’s company.”

Matt scowled. “Not a chance in hell.”

Nick threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what I thought. But seriously…” His expression sobered. “Be careful.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you for taking care of Poofy while I’m gone,” Trista said to Nick. “I left kibble and plenty of cans of wet food. He likes to be combed once a day, and—”