Page 23 of Working for the Enemy

“Are you getting close? I promised you three more orgasms, but I can’t hold on much longer.”

His voice is strained, and I can tell he’s at his breaking point. Kane reaches around and rubs my clit in furious circles, winding me up again and again. My legs shake, my muscles tense, and even though I thought I had nothing left to give, I find myself barreling toward the edge once more in a desperate attempt to please Kane.

“Ah, ah, ah, yes!” My cries grow frantic as he pushes me higher and higher, my body tense as I wait for the final thread to snap.

“I need you to come right the fuck now, angel. One more time, fuck! Fuck, Marlowe!”

I clamp down on his cock right as he explodes deep inside of me. We release our pleasure together, pure bliss pulsing around us, through us, and then dripping down between us.

“That’s it,” he coos, his voice both soothing and strained. We’re both so, so sensitive, but he continues to thrust lazily as we float back down to earth.

Finally, my arms give out and I faceplant into the soft mattress. I feel like a puddle. A sated, happy, puddle. Kane collapses on the bed next to me, rolling me onto my side so he can wrap himself completely around my body.

“Love being with you like this,” Kane whispers. “I… I love you, Marlowe.”

I look up into his deep blue eyes, which are flooded with so many emotions. He almost looks like he might cry. “Kane…”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he quickly informs me. “But you need to know that you’re it for me. Forever. Never thought I’d say that to another living soul, but after everything we’ve been through in such a short amount of time… I just know I’m never going to feel this way about anyone ever again.”

“Kane, I–”

“It’s too soon, I know,” the stubborn man continues. “We’ve barely known each other for a week. The thing is though, time–”

I press my lips to his, shutting him up in an instant. When I pull back, Kane blinks at me in surprise.

“Are you done?” I ask, one eyebrow lifted. He continues to blink at me. “Because I love you, too, Kane. It’s crazy, and it’s definitely too soon, but it’s true. What we have is real. I feel it. Don’t you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he replies, rubbing his nose against mine. “Love you, Marlowe.”

“Love you, Kane.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my mountain man relaxes completely, the tension drained from his muscles. His breathing evens out, and before long, Kane is sleeping peacefully. He even has a slight smile on his lips.

12

KANE

Walking through town on a Friday afternoon used to feel like a tactical maneuver. I kept my chin tucked, my eyes scanning perimeters, moving fast enough to discourage anyone from striking up small talk.

Today, my pace is slow, almost lazy.

Main Street is bustling, sunlight washing over the timber-front shops and mountain peak backdrops. But the only thing keeping me anchored to the earth is the soft, warm hand tucked inside mine.

I look down at Marlowe. She’s wearing a sundress that clings to her gorgeous, curvy body, her white-blonde hair catching the light like a halo. Her bright green eyes are scanning the storefronts, but there’s no panic in her posture anymore. No hyper-vigilance. No skittish glances toward the shadows.

She looks safe. She looks settled. She looks at home in Forge Creek.

"You're staring, Boss Man," she hums softly, squeezing my fingers without looking up. "It's a little creepy, honestly."

"Get used to it, sweetheart," I rumble, my thumb stroking the back of her hand. "I'm going to be staring at you for the next eighty years."

A brilliant, dimpled smile lights up her face, and my heart does that heavy, possessive thud it only ever does for her.

As we stroll down Main Street, Marlowe’s arm tucked securely in mine, she suddenly pauses outside the newly renovated storefront of Sweet Treats. The smell of fresh cookies and rich chocolate drifts out into the cool air.

"Ava!" Marlowe calls out, her face instantly brightening.

A woman with dark chestnut hair pulled up into a loose, messy bun looks up from wiping down one of the outdoor tables. She has warm brown eyes and a bit of flour smeared on her cheeks. Ava sets her towel down with a wry, slightly sarcastic smile, though her expression turns genuinely warm the moment she recognizes Marlowe.