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“But – ”
“Shhh,” she whispered as she caressed my beard. “Don’t worry. He paid for it.”
“Did you kill him?” I asked angrily, hoping she would say ‘yes.’
“Let’s just say he won’t hurt anybody else ever again,” she murmured, then kissed me.
I’m not going to lie: the casualness with which she said it was a tiny bit unnerving.
But…
It was also kind of hot.
What a fucking woman…
47
Rachel
His worry for me was sweet.
It was also a little condescending – like he thought I couldn’t handle myself. Like the clusterfuck on the rooftops in Kabul was what always happened on my missions.
But I chose to ignore that and instead focus on what I saw in his eyes:
Fiery protectiveness…
And deep concern.
He really, truly cared about me.
When I realized that, I misted up a little.
Then his concern started to get in the way of our fun.
For the first few minutes of sex, he treated me gingerly, like he was afraid I might break. There was no need; the bruises barely hurt anymore. Besides, I was used to much worse.
“Lars, I’m not a porcelain doll,” I finally said in a deadpan voice. “Fuck me, for God’s sake.”
He grinned – and fully obliged.
Half an hour and several mind-blowing orgasms later, I lay in his arms, spent. “I am so glad you’re finally here…”
He chuckled. “I am, too.”
I bent my arm and propped up my head on my hand so I could look at him better. “Anything you’d like to do while you’re here in London?”
“You.”
I laughed. “Besides me.”
“I don’t think we’ll have time.”
I gave him a look like Yeah, RIGHT. “You’re going to be here for a whole week, aren’t you?”
“I have a lot to make up for in that one week.”
“I still think we’ll have plenty of time to do something besides sex.”
