by Shayla Black
And he doubted he would ever want another random woman again.
In that moment, he didn’t care about anything but the stunning pleasure she laid over his senses. Her soft breaths on his abdomen, her butterfly touches across his skin, the reverence of her tongue. He stuck his hands in her hair, wrapping the soft strands around his fingers, and fell into her rhythm.
“Jolie, love . . .”
She merely moaned, then lifted her lashes, glancing up his body and into his eyes. Her stare electrified him. Then she took another long pull on his cock. Sparks shot up his spine. He swore his legs had gone numb. Certainly, his brain had ceased thinking about anything but Jolie Quinn and how right being with her felt.
Her tongue swirled around him, something between a tease and an embrace. She closed her eyes again and sank into the moment. But he needed her with him in every way.
“No, open your eyes. Look at me.”
For the very first time, she didn’t hesitate before complying. She wanted this intimacy as much as he did. And as she dragged her lips up his shaft and kissed the sensitive head, his back arched, his spine rattled. Would he ever be able to let this woman go?
“Stop,” he panted.
She licked up his erection again in a saucy little rebellion. “This feel too much like harassment in the workplace?”
He hadn’t seen her sense of humor before tonight, and he enjoyed it—just not while his cock was on fire.
“No.” His voice sounded gruff, harsh. “I want to be inside you.”
She stroked the nerve-rich spot just under the head with her tongue again. “You always want to be inside me.”
“You’re damn right I do.” He sat up and grabbed her arms. “Now.”
Jolie pushed him to his back once more. “This is more sex than I’ve had in years. You’ve turned me into a maniac.”
Heath opened his mouth to comment when she threw her leg over his body and straddled him. As if his stubborn dick had a mind of its own, his hips lifted. He rooted around until he found her opening. She smiled and began sinking down onto him with a sigh.
“Condom,” he managed to choke out the reminder.
“Did you ever have random hookups bareback?”
Was she mad? “Never.”
“Perfect.” Perched on her knees, Jolie worked him down slowly, savoring every new inch her clasping hot silk pussy enveloped. “I need this, to be close to you.”
“I do, too.” God, did he ever.
He stopped resisting this incredible slide into heaven. Actually, he’d never had sex without a condom in his life. He’d been a careful youth. Anna had been a bit of a germophobe and had been unable to tolerate the thought of exchanging bodily fluids. Everyone else he hadn’t wanted to really, truly touch.
He had no idea if Jolie was taking the pill or could get pregnant. But the idea of climaxing deep inside her, of leaving behind his seed to take root and grow . . . A week ago, that would have scared the fucking piss out of him. Now it made his desire flare hotter.
If she conceived, she couldn’t simply toss him out of her life, right?
Slippery moral slope, mate . . .
“Jolie, are you sure?”
“Hmm . . .” She wriggled up his shaft, then slid slowly down, burning him with her heat. “Yeah. Probably the most certain I’ve been about anything in a long time. Don’t leave me.”
“I can’t,” he admitted.
She glided her way up his erection again, her walls gripping and clenching, her wetness making the ride buttery and smooth, before she put the force of her hips behind her next stroke and slammed down, jarring the bed, shaking his body. Stealing his soul.
He grabbed her hips and ramped up the rhythm of her thrusts, plunged deeper and harder, groaning so loudly the sound echoed off the walls.
Jolie braced her hands on his chest. “Let me. Let me do this. I need to be able to . . .”
With a frown, she searched for the right words, but Heath knew. After an evening where her careful plan had gone to hell, her future looked uncertain, and she might have to face the ghosts of her past, she needed to control something.
Normally, giving up power would chafe him. He was a man with dominant tendencies. He loved a compliant female whom he could make gasp and pant and beg. But tonight wasn’t about him. Jolie had sought him for comfort, affection. He would be there for her in every way.
Heath dropped his hand to her thighs. “Whatever you need, love.”
“Thank you,” she whispered as she writhed, tossing her head back as she took him deeper than ever.
She looked like a goddess, all shimmering and lovely, even more beautiful in pleasure.
“I want to touch you.” He requested, but tonight he wouldn’t take.
“Please.”
He settled his thumb over her clit. “Such manners. A ‘thank you’ and a ‘please’. Shall I reward you, then?”
“Absolutely,” she purred.
“Very good.” He rubbed at her, reveling when her breath caught and a rosy flush pinkened her skin even more. “Maybe you could bend down and kiss me?”
Their shared tenderness seemed to peel back another layer of her softness, leaving her utterly exposed. “I don’t think I can help myself. I’ve never been able to when it comes to you.”
She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and leaned in, her green eyes wide and raw. Heath wondered if she was aware of her silent plea. He cupped one of her shoulders gently and cradled her cheek with his other hand. Her breath caught.
Her lips touched his in a slow, searching brush. She lifted back, stared in question. Was she uncertain of her welcome? Every inch of his aching erection was packed inside her and he only wanted more. But she was used to being turned away, belittled, and rejected. She usually had to forge her path alone.
Never again.
His chest buckled at the realization. He caressed his way to her nape and pulled her forward until he cemented their lips together. He tasted wine and woman and need—a dizzying combination.
Beneath her, he pressed up, burrowing deeper inside her. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed her cry. He enjoyed taking her defenses down a little at a time, loved the slow dance of her surrender.
He fell into a rhythm, hips and tongue working in sync to drive her closer to the brink. But the bloody woman never did anything passively. She never simply gave over. No, Jolie pinched his nipples, which he would have sworn before now weren’t sensitive, and nibbled at his bottom lip, sucking and teasing, absolutely driving him mad.
His need ratcheted up. Passion rose. Soon they were grasping each other, desperate to be closer. They panted in unison, shared groans and sighs, as they rocked together on her bed as if nothing and no one else in the world mattered.
She clung, tightened around him, her nails biting into his shoulders as she kissed below his ear, nipped at his lobe.
Damn it all, the burn of the desire was too hot to last. As he arched up beneath her with a shove, he hit a sensitive spot that had her whimpering and clasping his cock harder until she threw her head back with a wailing cry and came.
God, he’d never seen anything like her. When Jolie committed to something—work, an argument, sex—she did it completely. She didn’t have polite, restrained orgasms. They weren’t quiet. They certainly weren’t manufactured. Everything she gave him was honest and real and fiery.
Jolie drove him to the brink. He strained to hold on to his composure, but as she gripped him completely and her mewls filled his ears, as her eyes slid shut and her nipples beaded inches from his face with a blushing rush, Heath couldn’t hold out anymore.
“Love, are you using birth control?”
“What?” She kept wriggling and thrusting, lost to pleasure. “No, but—”
“Shh.” He fucked her deeper, harder, wringing the last of the searing climax out of her. Every muscle of his body tensed as he shoved down ecstasy and tried to hold back. God, she was murder on his self-control.
F
inally, the tension of her climax spent, she lay limp against him with a sigh. Relief rolled through Heath. His torment was over.
He rolled her to her back in a blink, then situated himself in the cradle of her thighs. How badly he wanted to stay deep and release himself in her snug depths. But Jolie had too many ambitions on her bucket list to get pregnant without careful consideration. This might have been her idea but she might not be ready for the consequences or sober enough to make the choice.
With a curse, Heath withdrew from her and glided his aching erection between their bodies, bucking against the pad of her pussy and rubbing his cock over her sensitive clit. She cried out, jolted again, welcoming him with open arms and legs as he felt fire lick up his spine, bliss roll through him, and the building orgasm crest just before it demolished him.
He shuttled his surprising disappointment that he couldn’t be with Jolie completely and tie her to him for good.
***
ONCE again, Heath woke before dawn. He had to risk leaving a sleeping Jolie in their bed to stop by Dominion and pick up a few of his things, but he advised Cutter and made it quick. When he let himself back in Jolie’s place, the quiet told him she hadn’t awakened. That left him alone with his thoughts.
Yesterday morning, he’d contemplated calling Myles and asking the man how he’d moved on after tragedy had ripped his life apart. Today he didn’t think he could wait anymore.
Of course Anna would have wanted him to be happy. She’d been selfless in nearly every way. Kind to a fault. Happy with friends and hobbies and a part-time job tending plants at a nursery. In the evenings, she liked cuddling on the sofa with a cup of tea and the telly. It had been a comfortable life, and he’d enjoyed his time with her. He’d mourned her loss and tried to pick up the pieces while making sense of it all.
He still didn’t understand why his world had come crashing down.
What he did know . . . Jolie should be his future, and he had to figure out how to move forward without the nagging fear of losing her plaguing him. He’d avoided relationships because they could end suddenly and violently, through no fault of either party. The pain and devastation would be too much to bear a second time.
But walking away from Jolie was no longer an option.
Without hesitating or deliberating, he picked up the phone and hit the preprogrammed number he hadn’t dialed in years. Myles answered on the second ring.
“Heath? Is that really you?”
“It is.” And now he felt almost embarrassed that he hadn’t stayed in touch. Myles had tried for a time but ultimately given up when Heath had not responded in kind. “How are you, old friend?”
“I’m well. Very well. Surprised to hear from you! Pleasantly, mind you . . .”
“Good. I hear you’re still working and doing a bang-up job of it. I was sorry to hear that you were shot a few years back. But you’ve been promoted recently?”
“Yes. I won’t ask how you know all that,” he sounded amused. “You were always sly about your informants back in the day.”
“A few still talk.” But maybe tragedy might have been avoided if he’d had a better network when it counted.
“Indeed. Well, a desk isn’t all that exciting but, as you’ve probably heard, I’m remarried now. Camille is a wonderful woman, originally from Dover. We met at a pub, I’m sad to say. But we’ve been married nearly a year now and we’re expecting.”
The cheer in Myles’s voice made Heath’s chest tighten. “I did hear. Congratulations! That’s actually why I called. I know it’s rather poor manners for me to ring you out of the blue like this, in the middle of your weekend, and ask you to give me some advice on how to carry on with life again. But . . .”
“You’ve met someone?”
“I have. She’s amazing. I’ve never known anyone as passionate about her work or smart or determined to succeed.”
“I take it you’re not referring to Ms. Mullins since I hear she’s engaged to that former soldier who rescued her.”
“Yes. Whomever makes Mystery happy is the man she should marry, and it seems that’s Axel Dillon. So all’s well that ends well.”
“Except for you. Are you uncertain about the lady you’ve met?”
“I’ve rarely been more certain about anything or anyone. I was so smug, believing I’d never fall . . .” Heath stopped before he said the next inevitable words.
“In love again?” Myles prompted, plucking the words from Heath’s very thoughts.
God, that was it exactly. How? He’d met Jolie a mere handful of days ago.
But Heath was done questioning it.
“Something like that. How did you let go of your grief and fear and try again?”
“You’ve got to decide you’d rather risk your heart than chance being the sad sack who spends every night in some seedy pub, looking for a girl to shag so you can forget how bloody lonely you are.”
His old mate was so close to the truth it hurt. “That’s it?”
“I’m afraid so. No elixir. No mantra. No special affirmation. The therapy was shit, an utter waste of time. I had to figure out how to be single again and how to live happily without Lucy. Neither one of us were very good company after it all happened, and I know you’ve gone through hell without Anna. But at some point, I simply decided I wanted to live again. I didn’t want to do it alone. It sounds as if you’re there.”
“I think so. It would be easier if we knew who ordered Anna and Lucy’s deaths and why, if we had avenged them somehow, bashed skulls, or put the masterminds away for good—something. Every day, I’m haunted by the idea that my wife died and I didn’t make the proper people pay.”
“I won’t ask if you had anything to do with the deaths of the triggerman and his accomplices.” Myles sighed. “That sense of devastation and loss gives you some empathy for the families of victims, doesn’t it? I’ve been over and over that day in my head, too, mate. The truth is, we were good at our jobs but that didn’t make us omnipotent. We couldn’t know everything. Terrorists and thugs attack all around the world. Civilians die. I miss the good old days when soldiers kept the battle to the fields but . . .” He sighed. “After Lucy was gone, it was awful. The darkest days of my life. I was haunted by the child I’d never meet, who never knew life because some maniac with a sniper rifle and a yen for explosives decided to blow up a marketplace as a criminal or political statement he never took responsibility for. But I realized the anger and the sorrow didn’t make anything better and it didn’t bring anyone back. You’ve grieved. Now it’s time to live again.”
Heath suspected Myles was spot-on. It sounded so easy, and yet making the decision was infinitely simpler than putting his resolve into practice. Still, he didn’t think he could go back to being that numb cad carelessly plowing his way through the singles’ bar scene to avoid the fact that he’d become a lonely widower.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks, mate. I know it’s been a long time and you could have told me to piss off—”
“Are you joking? I was just telling Camille that I wanted to ring you and find out how you were doing. So you’re in Dallas now? I hear you’re working for a gorgeous clothing designer. Is that who you’re romancing?”
“I’ve had this job less than a week. I won’t ask how you learned about it already.” Heath chuckled, feeling truly light for the first time in years.
“Best if you don’t,” he drawled. “Seriously, keep in touch. Let me know how you’re doing. The caring again . . . it’s a bit overwhelming, but worth it. Call me anytime you need to chat.”
That’s what Heath had always appreciated about Myles; he’d been a genuine friend. “Thanks, mate.”
They rang off, and he stared at the device a moment more. He’d been rolling an idea around in his head since the wee hours of the morning, when he was curled up beside Jolie as she’d slept restlessly.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
He scrolled through his contacts again and found his brother-
in-law’s mobile number. Heath’s only sister had married some financial wizard. Jane had convinced him to turn the inheritance Anna’s wealthy parents had left her and the life insurance money he received following her death over to Jane’s husband. Because the money had almost seemed tainted by blood to him, Heath had done it, not caring whether he saw it again. But the last statement he’d received via e-mail told him it had grown to an amount that staggered him. Clarke had worked wonders, despite global financial uncertainty.
Heath hit the contact button on his phone and his sister’s