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He entered her slowly, gaze locked on hers as he filled her inch by inch. Buried to the hilt, he relaxed against her, lowering his belly against hers and cocooning her in his arms. She’d never felt more cherished, more connected, more content. Her lashes fluttered as he lowered his head and kissed her, claiming her mouth with the same care he showed as he took her body. Emotion clogged her chest until she couldn’t breathe, and panic began to set in. Now that she knew what a love this perfect felt like, how would she go on if she lost it? If she lost him?
Her breath quickened, and she pulled him closer using both her arms and her legs—squeezing him so close she was likely hurting him. He didn’t protest. Instead he shifted his arm and pressed something hard against her side. Her bullet, she realized with a flood of relief. He was wearing it on a bracelet. She released her tight hug and found his wrist, gripping the bullet in her hand until her panic began to subside. It didn’t take long. Only a few deep breaths. It’s getting a little better, she told herself. But maybe that was a lie.
“I wondered if it was me or your lucky charm you were missing,” he said, and she opened her eyes to find him smiling kindly at her.
“You,” she said without hesitation. “It’s the thought of losing you that makes me reach for this.” She squeezed the bullet in her hand and then released it to dangle around his wrist so that her arms were free to hug him close again.
“I know.” He kissed her softly, not promising what he couldn’t promise. Just validating how she felt. Giving her exactly what she needed to find the stability she still lacked. “I will never willingly leave you.”
She smiled and squeezed him tighter. That was all she could ask of him. “I’ll never willingly leave you either.”
He shifted onto his elbows, and she slowly released her death grip, settling into the mattress and gazing up at him. He rocked his hips, moving inside her, and her eyes drifted closed as pleasure radiated outward from their joining.
“Part of me thought you wouldn’t accept my invitation,” he said.
“I couldn’t get here fast enough.”
He kissed her neck, his strokes no faster than before, but oh so deep. Her toes curled, and she arched into him.
“Am I presuming too much if I keep a toothbrush and some clothes in your room?” she asked.
His hands skimmed over her shoulders, her breasts, her waist.
“You already have a toothbrush in the bathroom. It’s the red one.”
Her smile faded into an opened-mouthed gasp of pleasure as his lips caressed her jaw, her throat, her earlobe.
“But you won’t need any clothes here,” he added.
Her smile returned. “I might need them when I leave.”
“You just promised me that you won’t do that.”
And she wished she never had to. She touched his face. “I’ll have to leave eventually. I have a job to do.”
“Make me happy?”
“Yes, but—”
He kissed her silent. “Watching you perform will make me happy too.”
“So you aren’t planning to chain me to your bed?”
“Now there’s an idea.”
She lost her train of thought as his strokes hastened. She surrendered her pleasure to him, trusting him to bring her higher, higher.
“Steve!” she cried as she shattered, her enter body shaking with power of her release.
“I win,” he said, grinning down at her.
Still quaking in bliss, she needed a moment to register his words. . She sucked in a breath and asked, “What do you mean, you win?”
“Made you come first.” He beamed with pride.
She laughed. “I think that makes me the winner.”
“Nope. Me.”
“I want a rematch.”
“Maybe you’ll score second place, but I think I have that victory in the bag as well.”
“We’ll just see about that.”
But when he kissed his way down her body, spread her legs wide, and set his mind—and mouth—to claim another victory, she forgot to even try to win. Besides, she was the one claiming orgasms. She was pretty sure that made her the real winner.
“Steve: two,” he said. “Roux: zero.”
“I’ll try harder,” she promised. But he flipped her over onto her knees and entered her from behind. Being taken fast and rough after the care he’d shown her before sent her body reeling into a new dimension of pleasure. And when he reached around to rub her clit while he fucked her, she couldn’t help but allow him a third victory. Though, really, if this was what losing was like, he was welcome to tattoo a giant L on her forehead.
“I’m on a roll,” he said.
She managed to get him on his back, and took his cock into her mouth, sucking him and caressing his cockhead with her tongue. When his breath started to hitch in excited gasps, she decided a four-to-one loss wouldn’t be so bad. She shifted up his body to straddle his hips and slid him inside her with her hand. Using her weight to drive him deeper, she moved her hips in grinding strokes to rub her clit against his body. Steve seemed okay with her throwing him another point as she worked her way quickly to orgasm. He waited for her, sitting upright the moment she shattered to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight against him as he let go inside her.
“I changed my mind,” he said as he collapsed backward onto the bed, pulling her down with him. “Coming is definitely winning, not losing.”
She giggled. “I do know what I’m talking about sometimes.”
“I’ll never doubt you again.”
*~*~*
When Roux’s cellphone rang a while later, she was dozing peacefully in Steve’s arms. She groaned, knowing before she even looked at caller ID that it was Iona and it was time for her to pretend she had a real job. Though she took her second career—making Steve happy—very seriously.
“Do you have to go?” he murmured.
She climbed from the bed before that sexy-sleepy voice of his made her consider a permanent career switch.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, leaning over the bed and kissing his lips softly. She knew she couldn’t spend the entirety of the tour in bed with him. Knew that, but hated it was true.
“I need my rest anyway,” he said, looking even sexier than usual with his eyes all drowsy and his hair tousled from their earlier activities. “I’ll miss having you tucked against me while I sleep.”
She lifted a brow as she retrieved her clothes from beneath the chair and began to dress. She knew how he slept, all sprawled out on his belly with scarcely an inch for her. She ended up less tucked against him and more clinging to the edge of the bed so she didn’t wind up on the floor.
“You are a total bed hog.”
He grinned. “Guilty. I’ll work on that. But only for you.”
Now dressed, she kissed him again, forcing her feet to move toward the door. “I love you,” she said.
“Love you,” he murmured, eyes now closed.
She released a sigh, quickly committing the look of him to memory before opening the door. Roux took note of the middle-aged, mustached security guard in the hall who was arguing with some burgundy-haired woman. She recognized him from the after-party in New York as Butch, the head of Exodus End’s security team and the guy who’d given her wonderful advice about making Steve fall for her. Roux kept her head down as she passed the pair, still worried about hiding her alter ego from strangers. The woman paused in her diatribe about all-access press passes as Roux hurried past them and to the elevator. Her neck prickled beneath the iciness of the woman’s glare as she hammered the down button, as if that would get the car to the floor quicker. Something about the woman was familiar, but Roux couldn’t figure out where she might have seen her. She seemed out of place, yet not her looks. She looked every inch a rock star aficionado—from her chunky leather boots to her short burgundy hair to all the piercings and tattoos in between. But Roux felt that she didn’t belong there. Maybe it was because Butch obviously d
idn’t want her there. As soon as the elevator opened and Roux stepped inside, the woman began berating the poor guy again.
