Page 13 of The Specialist

“Why?” I whimpered, seeking his mouth again.

With a groan, he took my lips, nipping, tasting, pressing soft kisses to them.

“You are tired, iubirea mea. You need to rest. If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to control myself. There will not be sleep for hours. If even then.”

I cupped the impressive erection trapped between us. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He groaned, the sound torn from his throat. “When I make you mine, it will be forever, Sofia. I want you to be sure.”

I stilled, and he met my eyes, his voice raspy. “I will wait.”

He stood, taking me with him. He carried me down the hall, setting me on his bed and pulling the blanket over me. “You will sleep. I will watch over you,” he said simply, sliding in beside me, leaning up on his elbow.

“You’ll be bored.”

“No. I will rest too. I didn’t sleep well last night. My body sensed your turmoil.”

“Pardon me?”

He traced a finger over my cheek. “My parents had a connection. They always said they could feel the other person’s emotions. I used to laugh at them, thinking they were crazy—old folklore. But I get it. I feel you, Sofia. In my chest. In my mind. I know when you hurt. I feel your sadness. When you need more care. More distance.” He frowned. “I hate that one, but I give it to you.”

“Why have you been so patient?” I asked. “It’s been over two years.”

He lifted one shoulder. “I knew you would be worth it. I had your friendship. Your trust. I had faith, in time, the rest would follow. My connection to you was too strong for it not to.” He tucked the blanket higher. “Sleep. Know I am here and will watch over you. Then when you wake, we will step forward.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head. “Together.”

With a small sigh, I shut my eyes. I could feel Egan’s warmth beside me. A solid weight of strength. I lifted my arm, settling it on his hip, and he pulled me tight to his chest, draping his arm over my waist. I buried my head into his chest and breathed him in. He always smelled so good, and I knew the cologne he wore was one of his own creations. Sensuous and deep, the notes of sandalwood, musk, and citrus were perfect on him. I sighed in contentment. “I love how you smell.”

He kissed my head, not speaking. I began to drift when I heard his voice again.

“Soon you will be soaked in me, Sofia. Where I end, you will begin.”

I liked the sound of that.

* * *

I woke up slowly, warm, more rested than I could remember feeling in a long time, and wrapped around Egan. He was leaning against the headboard, reading. I had my head on his stomach, my arms enfolded around his waist. I was curled into a ball beside him, the blankets pulled high over my shoulders. A plush pillow was under my head, and Egan stroked his fingers through my hair in gentle passes, pausing on occasion to turn the page. I peered up at him, studying him for a moment. He wore glasses, simple black frames that made him even sexier than usual. His chest was bare, a smattering of hair glinting in the light from the bedside table. He lifted his hand to turn the page and glanced down, meeting my eyes. He smiled as he shut his book, drifting his fingers down my cheek.

“Hello, iubirea mea. You are awake.” He looked pleased. “You slept well.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, I did. What does that mean—those words you say in Romanian? I know it’s not friend.”

His eyes crinkled, and he shook his head. “No. It means ‘my love.’”

“I see. You’ve been calling me that for months.”

“You have been that for even longer,” he said quietly, pulling off his glasses, meeting my gaze. His eyes were dark and intense. “I began to worry I would never be able to tell you how I felt. But I hope we are past that now.” A smile broke out on his face. “I mean, you are in my bed.”

“I was sleeping.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “And now, you are awake,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy.

We stared at each other, something hot and powerful building between us. I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly I was under Egan, his weight pressing me into the mattress. Our eyes locked. “You’re naked,” I whispered.

“I always sleep in the nude.” He lowered his head, rubbing his chin across my breasts. “You’re in my shirt.”

My nipples tightened at the sensation of his caress. Still holding my eyes, he opened his lips and sucked one through the thin cotton. I gasped at the feel of his mouth and teeth, the suction. I felt it everywhere. He moved to the other nipple, and I groaned, sliding my hand into his hair.

“You like that, my Sofia? You like my mouth on you?”