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“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “Always got you.”
But has she got me? Because I have never been more terrified of anything in my life. She’s the difference between existing and living. Loving and hating. Killing and reviving.
I stare down at her as I make love to her, watching her as she watches me, both of us studying each other so carefully. What is she thinking? “My love,” I whisper, my body sinking into hers over and over, my heart kicking more with each drive. Not in exertion. No. I fucking love her, and it’s truly fucking with my head.
“My love,” she says quietly in answer, a silent, mutual understanding passing between us.
The moment is intense.
So beautiful.
She whimpers, jerks, and her release triggers mine, everything I have pouring into her in long surges, my shakes now out of control.
My heart exploding.
Her mouth becomes harder on mine, our kiss deeper, while I hold myself inside her, pulsing, releasing, absorbing her quivering walls, relishing the feel of her constricting around me, milking me.
I endure the sensitivity until I have to stop moving, my cock twitching in the aftermath. “You’re shaking,” I say, my voice rough. She pushes her face into the crook of my neck, gasping for air, clinging on. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t show herself to me.
Is she feeling what I’m feeling?
“Pearl?”
“Brad?”
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
I settle on top of her, nudging her face from my neck, and she gazes up at me, her eyes on fire. She’s definitely feeling what I’m feeling. I encase her face with my palms. “I know I am,” I say, and she swallows, nodding her head, albeit jerkily. “I’m really okay.” I blanket her and feel her arms stroking across my back, the moment calm. Quiet.
Until my cell rings. I groan, putting my forehead on hers. “I have to go.”
“Don’t get shot,” she says quietly, giving me an extra squeeze before releasing me.
Engaging my stomach muscles, I get up, grabbing my cell out of my jeans pocket. “I’m coming,” I say.
“Where the hell are you?” Danny snaps.
“I said I’m coming.” I hang up and pull on my jeans.
“Can we go for dinner tonight?” she asks. “Just me and you?”
Dinner. Like a couple? “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” I’d walk to the end of the earth for her, I swear, and probably step off the edge of it. “I don’t know what time I’ll be back.”
“I can wait.” She shrugs. “I know this life is unpredictable. Someone may pop up that needs killing.”
I laugh lightly. “Yeah.” One every fucking hour at the moment. “I’ll try my best,” I say. I really will, because soon she’ll hopefully be on the jet to St. Lucia, and it’s going to be fucking painful watching her go.
“Okay.” She gets up and grimaces, looking down her body, and I see the inside of her thigh slick with my release. “I need another shower.”
“Call you later.” I place my palm on her nape and pull her forehead onto my lips.
Then I leave.
And it hurts. Because that was the best fucking thing I’ve ever experienced. The connection.
“Fucking hell.” I scrub my hands down my face as I walk down to meet the men. Danny looks like he wants to punch me when I get outside.
