Page 25 of Working for the Enemy

Sliding one arm beneath Marlowe’s hips, I hold her still as I piston in and out of her. She claws at the wood, then balls her hand up in a fist and pounds it against the trunk as she succumbs to a final, vicious orgasm.

I slide my hand further down her body, rubbing her clit in furious circles as my other hand grabs a fistful of her white-blonde hair. She soaks my dick with her cum and shudders in my arms. I bury my face between her neck and shoulder, breathing her in, feeling her shiver and pulse around me as I finally let go.

My orgasm barrels through me, seizing my muscles and making me shake uncontrollably as I come so fucking hard I almost pass out. I shoot my release deep inside her still-throbbing pussy, each rope of cum forcing its way out in blissful, torturous waves.

It lasts forever, and yet it will never be enough. I know I’ll want this woman wrapped around me as often as possible, chasing our pleasure and taking each other to heights unknown.

But right now, we need to clean up and make ourselves presentable.

We both groan as I reluctantly pull out of her. I growl when I see our combined releases dripping down the insides of her thighs, resisting the urge to get on my knees and lick it up.

Marlowe leans against the tree, pressing her forehead against the wood as she tries to control her breathing. “Holy shit,” she pants. “That was… that was so hot.”

I grin and smooth the sweaty strands of her hair away from her face. “Every single time with you is an incredible experience,” I agree. “Maybe we should go on hikes more often.”

“They say it’s good exercise,” she tells me with a twinkle in her eye.

I nod. “Some trails are more… strenuous than others. Especially if they’re secluded.”

She grins at me and I smirk right back, both of us already picturing the next time we’ll be here. It strikes me that this is my life now. I have this amazing, brilliant, sassy, witty, fucking gorgeous, sexy-as-hell woman by my side, and we get to decide what the future holds. Together. I never thought I’d have that.

“Let’s go home, Big Guy,” Marlowe says, barely suppressing a yawn.

“Whatever you want, angel.” I take her hand in mine and lead us back toward my truck.

“Promise?” She looks up at me with those big green eyes, and I know I’ll give her literally anything in the world to keep that loving, trusting look on her face.

“Always.”

EPILOGUE: MARLOWE

Ten months ago, if you had told me I’d be standing on the porch of a secluded mountain cabin, wrapped in the arms of the grumpiest, most territorial man in Colorado, I would have laughed in your face.

Then again, ten months ago, my entire existence was defined by running, hiding, and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Now? The only thing dropping around here is Kane’s jaw whenever I walk into the room wearing one of his giant flannel shirts and nothing else.

"You're standing on the cold porch with no shoes on again, sweetheart."

Kane’s deep, gravelly voice rumbles right against my back a split second before a thick, warm fleece blanket is draped over my shoulders. His massive arms wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard chest. His calloused hands come to rest flat over my lower stomach, where a tiny, barely detectable bump is just starting to show under my clothes.

I lean back into his strength, letting out a soft, contented sigh as he buries his face into the crook of my neck, his stubble tickling my skin.

"I've been out here for thirty seconds, Boss," I giggle, tilting my head to give him better access to my pulse point. "And the sun is fully out. I'm not going to catch a cold."

"Doesn't matter," he growls against my neck, pressing a warm, lingering kiss right over my collarbone. "You're carrying my baby, Marlowe. My job is to make sure you're warm, fed, and completely taken care of. Non-negotiable."

I turn in his hold, sliding my arms around his broad neck. I look up into those dark blue eyes that once scared me. Now, all I see in them is a steady, unwavering ocean of love and devotion.

Kane Langston is still a mountain of a man. He’s still the grump who scowls at the delivery drivers and makes the crew at Forge Creek Municipal Contractors stand at attention with a single glance. He still walks with that rigid military authority and tracks every entrance to every room we step into.

But for me? For his family? He melts.

"You're a softie, Kane Langston," I murmur, tracing the faded scar on his jaw with my thumb.

A tiny, lazy smile tugs at the corner of his lips—a private, beautiful sight that no one in this town ever gets to see except me.

"Only for you," he rumbles, capturing my hand and kissing the inside of my wrist where my pulse leaps. "Did you finish your assignment for class?"