She spread her legs wider, guiding his throbbing length until he was pressed against her, hot and aching. Then she bucked upward, taking him inside with a gasping moan that set every nerve in his body alight.
He stilled for a breathless moment at the intensity of it all—her warmth, her scent, the fevered pounding of his heart. It consumed him, consumed them both as Britt dug her heels into his back and urged him deeper. He’d missed this so much. He thrust into her slowly at first, savoring each blissful stretch and slide, losing himself in how perfect she felt around him.
“Lachlan,” Britt panted, voice weak with need. "Don’t make me beg.”
A deep rumble of laughter rolled from his chest as he pulled back and then drove into her with a desperate power. She clung to him, meeting each drive with a desperation that matched his own. Her soft cries spurred him on until their movements turned frantic, the pace quickening as everything they’d been holding inside for years poured out—need and love and craving. The bed creaked beneath them, straining in time to Britt’s breathless gasps.
Lachlan filled her completely before pulling back and slamming in again with relentless force, pushing her closer to the edge with each rough stroke. Nothing else mattered but this—Britt safe with him, writhing and gyrating beneath his body.
Her body clenched around him, pulsing, until the tension snapped like a live wire. Britt shuddered, her warm heat gripped his cock as she came undone under him. The sheer ecstasy of it all shoved him right over the brink with her.
A guttural roar flew from his lips as white-hot pleasure erupted through him. His body seized, the intensity blinding,drowning him in her until nothing else existed but the two of them.
They held each other through it, breath mingling in a shared gasp as wave after tidal wave of bliss crashed over them.
Lachlan pressed his forehead against hers as sweat trickled down his face. He never wanted to be anywhere else. Ever. They lay entwined, their limbs tangled and their heartbeats slowing, until the world came back into focus.
Britt’s head nestled against the solid warmth of his chest. Lachlan smoothed her hair back, savoring the feel of her. They lay in silence, her breath a soft rhythm against his skin as she drifted off to sleep.
The worst was over. The past was firmly behind them, and nothing would come between them again.
Epilogue
"The cause of the explosion in Little Turkey last week was a buildup of methane gas from the decomposing waste in the adjacent landfill, further exacerbated by industrial chemicals that were illegally dumped at the site,” the newscaster announced with a serious expression. “The cause is deemed natural and not due to any foul play. No casualties resulted from the fire. The owner of the landfill will be assessed fines and penalties for the handling of industrial chemicals...”
Britt pressed mute on the television, then shifted in Lachlan's arms, the couch creaking beneath them. "What a cover-up." She shook her head, dark waves cascading over her shoulders. Quattro's surgical demolition of Wesley Thomas's black site had gotten quite the makeover in the press.
"What did you expect?" Lachlan's fingers traced lazy patterns on her arm. "That they'd admit one of their own had constructed an off-the-books black site and was using it to torture reluctant informants into giving them evidence to take down criminal organizations?"
She rolled her eyes, settling deeper into his embrace. "And 'no casualties'?"
"Wesley Thomas's death is characterized as being in the line of duty on a special ops mission." Lachlan's jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his stubbled skin. "Complete with commendations and awards for exemplary service. Again, as expected."
"That doesn't bother you? That the truth about what he did will never be known?" Britt asked, her voice rising slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, pressing against the solid warmth of Lachlan's frame.
His eyes met hers, amber flecks catching the afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. "He's dead, Britt. He can't hurt you or Paloma ever again. That's all I care about." His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. "That's all you should care about, too."
"You're right," Britt acknowledged, exhaling slowly, forcing the tension from her shoulders.
The sound of delighted squeals and splashing filtered into the house from the open accordion doors. Paloma and her Goat Scout Camp friends frolicked in the outdoor infinity pool, their laughter carried on the salt-tinged breeze. The camp coordinators watched over them dutifully, clipboards in hand, as they chatted near the cabana.
Britt's gaze lingered on her daughter, a lump forming in her throat. Her little girl deserved this day of pampered fun after the ordeal she'd been through.
"You think she's really okay?" Britt asked, watching Paloma execute a cannonball that sent water cascading over the edge of the pool.
"I do," Lachlan said, his Scottish brogue thickening with emotion. "No nightmares, and she's opening up in her sessions with the pediatric therapist Fallon recommended. Not holding back on what happened to her and how it made her feel." His eyes softened as he watched their daughter. "The therapistthinks she's going to come through this just fine, especially since she has both of us."
Britt nodded, relief washing through her. The memory of finding Paloma with that crude explosive vest strapped to her tiny frame still haunted her dreams, but during waking hours, she forced herself to focus on the present—on the miracle of having her family intact.
"Amazing what the King Family can do when properly motivated," she remarked, glancing around the living room. The renovated house looked spectacular. The King Family ensured that the restoration occurred at record speed, bringing in crews that worked around the clock to erase every trace of damage. New furnishings, repaired walls, and gleaming floors made it impossible to tell that a violent encounter had ever taken place here.
Lachlan chuckled, the vibration rumbling through his chest against her back. “Serena was mortified by what happened under the watch of her overpaid security team. That was enough for her to mobilize an army of contractors. Hard to believe it's only been two weeks."
"It helps," Britt admitted. "Coming back to a place that feels safe, that doesn't remind her of what happened."
"Mmm," Lachlan hummed in agreement, his fingers toying with a strand of her hair. There was something in his voice—a hesitancy that made her turn to look at him.
"What is it?" she asked, studying the subtle tension in his features.
