“Stina.”
“Someone killed him.” Her voice came out quiet. “He was protecting me and someone killed him, and you went all the way to Chicago and—” She stopped.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back down to his chest, anchoring one hand in her hair.
“Baby, listen to me.”
Her heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone and the endearment he used.
“What matters right now,” he whispered against her temple, “is that you’re safe. You’re here.” He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “And we have all night.”
His lips found hers again, warm and unhurried, the kiss different from before.
Then he slid his hand down her stomach and lower, between her thighs.
And she stopped thinking about Chicago.
THIRTEEN
Rome wanted Stina before he was even fully conscious.
His body woke to her before his brain—the warmth of her back against his chest, the slow drag of her breathing.
The way she fit against him like she’d been carved for the space.
The base wasn’t awake yet, which made everything feel slower and unhurried in a way things rarely were in Sierra.
He pressed his mouth to the curve of her shoulder and she stirred, reaching back to curl a hand around his neck.
Taking that as an invitation, he slid his hand around her waist and up to cup her breast. She arched into his palm with a sleepy little noise that had him going from morning hardness to solid steel.
He kissed his way along her shoulder to her neck while letting his fingers skim lower, tracing over her stomach and between her thighs.
She was warm and soft and he found her clit and worked slow, easy circles while he pressed kisses to her neck. With a low moan, she rocked against his hand. He was just starting to ache with the need to be inside her when she shoved his hand away.
He froze. “Stina?”
She rolled out from under his arm and sat up, putting distance between them, her hair a wild dark cloud around her face.
“What’s wrong? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
“You made me forget that I’m mad at you.”
Incredulous, his jaw dropped and he blinked at her. “You didn’t seem mad at me when I was fingering you just now.”
She pulled the sheet over her bare breasts. “Because you made me forget.”
“You weren’t protesting when I made you come three times last night either.”
She lifted her chin a notch in that arrogant way that drove him crazy and made him want to slam his mouth over hers every time. “When you left for Chicago, you didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t know you left or when you were coming back.”
“It was an op. I didn’t have time to. Besides, you saw me when I came back. We had a talk—”
She narrowed her eyes, but he still took the bullets shooting from them. “Exactly. You distracted me.”
“From your anger.”
“Yes! I made you a special meal. I spent half the afternoon digging through that disgusting freezer to find pork chops because you mentioned your grandmother used to make them, and I made the stuffing from scratch.”
