Page 57 of Chased

“Oh. My. God. Yes.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He took her hands and put them on the headboard, pushing up so they were both on their knees. He began moving inside her, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, one hand covering hers on the headboard, his fingers entwined with hers.

“Damn, you feel so fucking good, it makes me crazy.” He was moving harder and faster now, dropping his hand between her legs, his fingers slick against her core.

Madison felt like a bright star ignited deep inside her, blinding light and heat spreading all through her. She moved with him, his strength filling her, feeling his climax building along with hers.

She reached up behind her with one hand, wrapping it around his neck, keeping him close. They were together, one person, sensations and emotions weaving back and forth between them.

She sensed when he was about to come, the change in rhythm, the barely controlled intensity. She was almost there, almost, and then he whispered in her ear, “You’re safe. I got you.”

And the wave rolled over her, ripples and ripples of beautiful sensation. She felt him explode inside her, pushing deep, deep, and felt the earthquake of his desire spread through into a final climax.

Chapter 23

Sanchez woke up suddenly, alerted by the sound of the front door quietly closing. He was in Madison’s bed, surrounded by her scent, holding her spooned into the curve of his body.

He lay completely still, extending all his senses. He couldn’t hear or smell anyone in the house.

But someone had been there. Protect her, his wolf said.

Always.

He didn’t want to wake her up, but he couldn’t resist brushing his lips against the soft skin of her shoulder before easing himself out of bed.

His pants were on the floor, and he automatically bent down to get his knife out of its sheath before remembering it was still embedded in the window frame.

No problem. If there was anyone here who needed killing, he could do it with his bare hands.

He moved silently down the hallway, still listening. The place was silent, empty of life.

But when he got to the living room, he caught the vestiges of familiar scents. His fucking cousins. What had those yahoos been up to now?

Apologizing, he realized. In the middle of the kitchen table was a peanut-butter jar of water holding a scraggly, ragged bouquet. Next to it were two boxes of Breanna’s cookies, slightly squashed, with a Butterfinger bar and a note on top.

Dear Madison,

Sorry we almost ate you.

That was crossed out and amended:

We weren’t going to eat you.

We’ll never do it again.

We’ll make it up to you. Here’s flowers.

And a Butterfinger.

And all our cookies.

Sorry again.

Cisco and

Matéo