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She stood. “You’re welcome.” When she made it to the open door, she paused. “By the way, I removed a few things from her bag.” It took Darien a second to understand what she meant—that she was talking about condoms and lingerie. His sister was a sharp one.
“Good thinking.”
She smiled. “Night, Darien.”
He kept sitting there for nearly thirty minutes, listening to Loren’s heartbeat. Her Avertera talisman was back on, so he couldn’t see her, but she was breathing.
She was alive, and she was breathing.
Eventually, he grew too tired to stay awake. He took off his boots and clothes and climbed under the covers in nothing but his boxers.
Fuck, it felt good to not have anything restricting him, to feel the soft press of clean sheets on his skin. He rolled onto his side so he was facing the door—staring out into the hallway as his eyelids grew heavy.
He passed out quickly. And for the first time since Loren had fallen into a coma, he slept through the night.
No nightmares. No dreams.
49
Desert Haven Hotel
FOXHILL, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
Max tipped his head back into the pillow with a groan as Dallas’s tongue flicked against the head of his cock.
She knelt between his legs on the bed in their hotel room, her fingers wrapped firmly around his cock. Her soft hand stroked him up and down, matching the beat to the movements of her mouth.
Goddamn, was she good at this. Every day she got on her knees for him was the best day.
He thrusted his hips up, driving himself deeper into her wet, perfect mouth, his hand fisting the silken hair at the back of her head. “Fuck, don’t stop, Dallas,” he growled. He kept thrusting, and she took him in deeply each time like a champ. “Don’t stop.”
His legs quivered, and his heart thundered in his chest. The hot, wet slip of her mouth and the flick of her tongue drove him wild. He was almost there—
A sharp knock came at the door.
He cursed, forcing himself to slow. Dallas began to slide her mouth back up to the crown, but he stilled her with a hand tightening in her hair.
“Go the fuck away, Delaney!” he yelled. There was no way he’d let that prick ruin this.
He picked up speed again, each thrust desperate and determined. Dallas obliged him with a tightening of her lips around his cock, teeth grazing just enough—
Another knock. Max bit down on a new retort as an unfamiliar female voice called through the door, “Police. Open up.”
Max would’ve told Dallas to answer the door, had he not already announced to the cop that a male was in the room.
Another knock came as he finished pulling on a pair of jeans, his cock still hard and throbbing beneath the denim. Talk about blue balls.
Dallas hung back, fixing her hair and wiping her mouth as Max stalked up to the door, not bothering with a shirt as yet another impatient rap of knuckles vibrated the wood.
He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, angling his body in a way that would hide the Devils tattoo below his ear.
A cop in her late thirties greeted him with a smile, entirely unaffected by his naked, scarred, and tattooed upper body. She was in uniform, her reddish-blonde hair tied back in a slick bun. “Evening.” She took in the room behind him with sharp, green eyes, her smile inching toward a grin. “I apologize for the interruption.”
The LED lights in the parking lot behind her bathed the pavement and cars in white. The rooms they had rented were on the ground floor, the doors accessible from the outside. The sun had set hours ago, but it was still hot and dry out, the towering palm trees lining the roads standing still as statues.
“It’s not a problem,” Max said tightly. “What can I help you with, Officer?” He glanced at the police car parked nearby—an undercover one, blue-and-red lights flashing.
“We’re hoping you might be able to tell us if you’ve seen this individual.” She held up a photograph.
