"Goddamn," he swore, his eyes closing beneath the sensation even that slight contact sent shooting through him. He wanted her so badly he couldn't think. Not a single thought.
"Tristan, please!" she cried out, writhing beneath him.
He wanted to go slow and savor this moment, but fuck if he could manage it. He reared back and slammed himself inside her. His balls slapped against her ass and they both shouted. Being inside of her once more wasn't coming home. It was dying and going to heaven. His cock ached in the best ways possible as her tight heat strangled him.
"Shit," he breathed, the only word he remembered as he saw the rapturous, hungry expression on her face. Her nails scratched across his shoulder blades, trying to pull him closer. Wordless whimpers flew from her lips. And that look of bliss on her face remained. He pulled back and thrust again, as deeply as the first time. And together, they both cried out.
The sensation was too much.
And not nearly enough.
"So good," he groaned, unable to hold back any longer as her hips lifted and circled beneath his. He began to fuck her in truth, hard thrusts that sent his balls slapping a little harder at her ass each time. He couldn't stop though, and he couldn't slow. He was nothing but sensation, nothing but pleasure after pleasure stabbing through him until he moaned as loudly and as frequently as she did.
The bed creaked beneath them. The headboard banged rhythmically against the wall. The still healing scar on his side pulled tight, his ribs and lung ached. But none of it registered, none of it mattered. The feel of her pussy clenching and releasing around his cock, and the deep scratches her fingernails left in his shoulders were the only things he felt. The sound of her cries and of skin striking skin was all he heard.
And nothing had ever been so right before.
"I love you," he managed to gasp. "Christ, I love you."
"Yours," she sobbed in response. "I'm yours."
Yes.
God, yes.
His hand clamped around her leg as his orgasm ripped through him so hard it hurt. Semen shot from his cock in thick spurts, seemingly emptying everything he had into her. His balls, his heart, his fucking soul.
"Tristan!" she cried his name and then she was coming just as hard as he did, her center clenching and releasing as he continued to pump into her until his cock gave a final twitch. He collapsed half on top of her, the rush of blood through his veins a loud roar.
"I love you," her voice whispered to him through the haze.
He wasn't sure how long they lay there as sweat dried on their bodies and their heart rates returned to normal. He didn't know, and he didn't care. They were facing one another, their bodies touching and their eyes and hands exploring. Neither spoke, they simply stared, and touched. His hand upon her brow, brushing her hair back. Hers upon his side, tracing faintly along the edges of his surgical scar.
"Does it hurt?" she finally asked, lifting her eyes to him.
"A little," he answered, cupping her cheek in his hand again. "Not as bad as it did."
Emotion flickered through her eyes. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. "I should have been there."
"Don't." He didn't want guilt and regret between them anymore. They'd had enough of both to last a lifetime, and he was done with it. He was done feeling guilty for reaching out and taking her. He was done feeling guilty for exposing her to the kinds of things he saw, and did. And he didn't want her feeling needless guilt now either. She'd done what anyone in her position would have done. He didn't begrudge her that. He couldn't. As he'd told her, he'd had nothing but time to think.
He'd been hurtling toward an oncoming train, determined to meet it head on or die trying. He could tell himself all he wanted that he hadn't intended to go into that lab alone, but he would have. He'd been sabotaging himself, intent on proving that he wasn't good enough for her. And he'd almost succeeded. He'd almost died, because he couldn't see past the anger. And he'd almost taken her and Jason with him.
And that had scared the shit out of him. Woke him up and made him think about what he wanted, what he really wanted. The way he'd been living, investing every single thing he had into the job and getting more pissed off by the day that his efforts weren't enough. There was no happy ending to that kind of life. There was nothing but sacrifice and loss waiting for him there. He could give everything he had to it, and when it killed him, he'd be another sad statistic. Another tragedy in an endless parade.
He'd accepted that it would be that way for him. That his life would inevitably end that way, not because everyone's did, but because the people like him—the ones who let it fester like an infected wound—couldn't see straight enough to get off the tracks. They were blind to reality, trying to avenge people who couldn't be avenged.
But it didn't have to be that way. He didn't have to play the savior. He didn't have to kill himself trying to battle demons that would never be exercised. Dead was dead; there was no coming back from that, no matter what he did. Giving his life and risking hers was fucking stupid. He had to find a balance, save those who could be saved and let someone else sort out the rest, just like John had told him.
He and Lillian had to find their balance together, too. And it couldn't be one rife with guilt and remorse. They'd tried that. It'd led them both to Teplo, and he didn't want to end up there again. He didn't want that for her, either.
"I don't want you feeling guilty," he said as she stared up at him, regret in her eyes. "You left and it killed me, but being without you was also exactly what I needed to pull my head out of my ass. Don't regret that and put that wall between us now. I don't want that."
"I don't want it between us either," she confessed. "We've spent so much time fighting." She bit her lip and frowned, trying to piece her thoughts together. "The only thing I want to fight for now is us, Tristan."
"Same here, beautiful," he said, tilting his head to kiss her. "And I will fight for you, you know. I was so fucking stupid to wait so long to come."
"Why did you wait?" she asked, honest curiosity sparking in her eyes.
"Elijah."
Her face fell. "Tristan, I–"
"We haven't caught him yet, you know," he interrupted.
She hesitated, her expression wavering.
"I came anyway, beautiful. I wasn't going to. I kept telling myself that I had to see this through first and make sure he couldn't hurt you. But then you called, and I said fuck it. I know I hurt you. Every time I said you were a just a ballerina or that this wasn't your world, I hurt you." He waited for her to deny it, but she didn't.
"That killed me," she said instead. "My entire life, I've heard how I wasn't good enough, or how I didn't belong. And then you'd say it and it hurt so much worse than when they said it."
He pulled her up onto his chest, regret pulsing through him. "I'm so sorry, beautiful. I never meant to make you feel that way. You were so brave, so willing to help. It killed me that you were willing to put yourself at risk to do this. I never wanted that for you. I never wanted you to have to see what I've seen."
"But that's not your decision to make," she said, nuzzling her face into his throat.
"I know that now, and that's why I came when you called. I've been a prick, making it about me and what I need. I never wanted that, but I did it anyway. And it wasn't fair to you. You're one of the bravest people I know, Lillian. I don't ever want to take that away from you or make you feel like less than you are."
She sighed softly, her breath a warm current across his skin.
They lay in silence for a minute.
"He's still out there?"
"Yeah. Jason thinks he's in Mexico."
She lifted her head to look at him. "What do you think?"
Tristan frowned and then told the truth. "I think Elijah is a sadistic son of a bitch, worse than Paulo. I can't imagine him giving up on killing us. I don't like not knowing where he's at, but I hope Jase is right and the asshole is in Mexico."
"Do you think you'll ever catch him?" s
he asked.
"I don't know. If he did run to Francisco, he's got an entire network of thugs to hide behind, not to mention a hotbed of corruption and chaos to make sure he stays hidden. Mexico's homicide clearance rate is zero, and it's a mess. The situation there plays in his favor. We may never catch him."
"I'm sorry." She squeezed him gently.
"Me too." He wanted nothing more than to see the fucker rot in prison, to know with absolute certainty that he would never get near Lillian, but who knew when or if that would happen? It could be years before they found the bastard. He wasn't going to drive himself crazy over it though. One day, the DEA would find Elijah, and Tristan would make sure the bastard paid for his crimes. But that day wouldn't be today. And he wasn't going to put off living until then.
"Where do we go from here, beautiful?" he asked, running his fingers through Lillian's hair.
"We go home," she answered, lifting her head to look at him.
Home.
He liked the sound of that.
Sneak Peek at Rapture: Book Three of the Teplo Trilogy
Coming Spring 2016
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
Lillian Maddox came awake with a start, blinking in the dark and trying to figure out what had woken her. She'd been having the best dreams—the same ones she'd had every night since Tristan Riley packed her things and brought her home from her father's three months before. The nightmares that had plagued her after Teplo rarely made an appearance since he brought her home, held at bay by the feel of his strong arms around her.
Even now, he cradled her close, his leg thrown over hers as if to keep her from sneaking out of bed without him knowing. She'd asked him about that habit once, but he'd merely smirked at her, telling her he liked the way she felt beneath him. He'd then proceeded to show her exactly how true that was. She hadn't questioned him since, especially not when she loved falling asleep with him wrapped around her.
Sleeping in his arms every night was as close to heaven as she'd ever come. Even when he drove her insane, which he did so well, she couldn't imagine not having him in her bed. A lot had changed since she'd almost lost him to Vetrov. For starters, he'd spent the last few months recovering, and his future with the DEA was still undecided. But the way she felt about him? Well, that hadn't changed at all. She still craved his touch, still needed him close, and still ached with the desire to feel him inside her, making her come apart.
"Beep. Beep. Beep."
"What is that?" she groaned, trying to locate the source of the strange beeping sound.
"It's my phone," he murmured when the loud noise echoed around the room again. Pressing his lips to her bare shoulder, he reached over to flip on the lamp and grab his cell phone off the bedside table.
Satisfied with his response, she grunted and covered her head with a pillow, not bothering to ask who he'd assigned such an annoying ringtone. He'd tell her if she asked, she knew that, but sometimes, it was better if she didn't know. She'd learned that well in the last few months. Even with him on leave while Roy Davis and Jason Ames tried to convince Quantico not to fire him for what happened at Teplo, people still called him at all hours. Coworkers, informants, Jason, Michael Kincaid…the list was endless. Everyone needed something from him, resulting in him frequently slipping from their bed to deal with one situation or another.
"Hello?" he mumbled, swinging around to sit on the side of the bed. He paused for a moment as if listening and then, "Yeah, that's me." Another pause. "Say that again."
She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. Jerking the pillow off of her face, she rolled toward him, squinting against the light. He sat on the side of the bed, his entire body rigid with tension. Lifting a hand, she placed it on his back, calling his name softly.
He held up a finger, not even turning to look at her. "When?" he barked into the phone, his hand tightening around it until his knuckles turned white and the plastic creaked. "You're sure it's the same? There's no possibility you're wrong?"
A chill went through her at the urgency in his tone, bringing her wide awake. She struggled into a sitting position, arranging her leg and then pulling the sheet up over her bare breasts. "Tristan? What's wrong?"
"Yes," he said to whomever had called, his voice hard. "I'll be there." He listened for another moment and then swore. "Yeah, see you then." For a long minute, he sat there with his head hanging, the phone dangling in his hands. And then he turned toward her. His blue eyes were hard, his jaw set beneath his scruff.
"What's wrong?" she asked as he reached for her.
He pulled her into his lap and buried his face in her hair, letting out a soft sigh.
"Tristan, you're scaring me," she whispered.
His arms tightened around her, and then he leaned back, meeting her gaze. "My suspension has been lifted," he said quietly. "Los Angeles authorities are reporting their first death from the Vetrov drug."
Lillian's heart dropped.
RAPTURE: Book Three of the Teplo Trilogy will be available in the spring of 2016.
Acknowledgements
One of the hardest things in the world is deciding how much reality you can put in a novel, how much you need to embellish, and how much you need to sacrifice for the sake of the story. My team has been instrumental in helping me find that line, and I value their ability to argue me down when needed and their willingness to drag me up the hill when I'm flailing around at the bottom, refusing to budge. Rhapsody, like Ravished, took a village. I'd like to thank that village now.
Melanie Moreland, Marita Stout, Les Sharpe, Michelle Knoll, Andrea Welsh, Melanie Supranowich, and Amy Lovell: I have to thank you again for all of your input and guidance over the years. Your friendship and support means the world. Thank you.
Leanne Creamer, Lisa Michael, and Jennie Ashby: Thank you for being some of the best pre-readers a girl could ask for you. I love you ladies.
Naomi Nakashima: Thanks for your ingenious ideas for our writing group. You keep me organized!
L.J. Anderson: Thank you for another gorgeous cover!
Courtney Schulist: Thank you for being awesome.
Carol A. and Sarah R.: Thank you for organizing pretty much everything release related for me. You ladies and your teams rock! Seriously. Thank you for taking some of the stress off.
To the Fire Starters: You guys are pretty much the coolest street team ever. Thanks for all you do for me!
To my coworkers at the Sheriff's Office: Thank you for answering thousands of questions and generally being awesome. I'm kind of relentless, but you guys put up with me. Thanks for that! And thank you for putting your lives on the line every single day. Being in law enforcement is damn hard, but you guys do it without complaint, regardless of what's going on in the world. I am in awe of you.
To my former professors: Thanks for giving me guidance and making me think.
Professor Lewis: I still owe you!
Jayme Stephens, and Belinda and Zach Combs: Thank you. You know why.
SS: I'm running out of ways to tell you how amazing I think you are. Not only did you fall in love with me almost twenty years ago, but you've put up with me for all those years. I'm not sure which of us is the most insane, but you've been my heart since I was a twelve year old girl, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you for twenty years of perfection. I adore you.
To all of my fanfic and Twitter friends: I don't think I have the words to tell you how much I appreciate your acceptance of DEFCON Vodka requirements, the hilarity you've brought into my life, and your friendship. I love you like crazy.
Finally, to you. Yes, you. I always say I have some of the coolest readers in the world, and that's truer today than it has ever been. You make me laugh, make me smile, and make me think. You bring so much joy to my life! I'm so incredibly appreciative of the fact that you picked up this book out of the thousands of choices you had in front of you. Thank you.
Also Available from Ayden K. Morgen
All Falls Down
All Cried Out
All Over You (Cameron & Ivy, coming 2016)
The Teplo Trilogy
Ravished (Book One)
Rapture (Book Three - coming in 2016)
Short Stories and Novellas
Crave
Call Your Name (from Cobblestone Press)
The Ragnarök Prophesies Series (as A.K. Morgen)
Fade (Book One) (from Curiosity Quills)
Fall (Book Two) (from Curiosity Quills)
Flame (Book Three) (Coming Soon)
About the Author
Ayden lives in the heart of Arkansas with her childhood sweetheart-now-husband of eleven years, and their five furry minions. When not writing, she spends her time hiking, reading, volunteering, causing mischief, and building a Spork army. Ayden graduated summa cum laude with her Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Forensic Psychology in 2009 before going on to complete her graduate degree in CJ and Law. She currently puts her education to use in the social services and CJ fields. Ayden also writes New and Young Adult fantasy under the penname A.K. Morgen. You can learn more about her and her writing at http://aydenmorgen.com or by following her on Twitter @AKMorgen.
Keep up with Ayden's releases and more by subscribing to her newsletter here.
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