Page 25 of Deep Cover

She raked her short nails over his shoulders, wishing she could cause him the pain he’d caused her as she rode him harder.

He caught the point of her chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing her gaze up to meet his.

“Let it out, Ryss. Take it out on me if you want, but we’re going to settle things between us.” He locked her tight against him.

She crushed her lips to his and muttered, “Like hell.”

The storm raged out of control inside her, inside him. His body tensed, his cock surging deeper as both of them reached the pinnacle their bodies demanded.

Liquid heat splashed her inner walls, and her pussy clamped around his length, milking him again and again as her core unraveled for him.

And her heart cracked open.

Dammit.

SEVEN

Rivers and Caryssa stepped out of the shower room together. Steam trailed after them, but the air between them was strange and quiet in a way that it hadn’t been under the water.

She didn’t glance his way as she headed down the hall to her room.

She didn’t invite him to follow.

She didn’t even look back.

Fuck.

He stood there, waiting for a glance over her shoulder. A hesitation. Anything that said she might change her mind.

Nothing.

Her bedroom door clicked shut with a quiet finality, leaving him standing in an empty hallway with water droplets still clinging to his skin and no idea how to shake off what he was feeling.

After another long moment, he continued on to his own room. Alone. He lay flat on his back on top of his covers, one arm thrown over his eyes. The whole thing played through his head on a loop without any way to stop it.

Pushing open the door. Caryssa’s gaze finding him through the steam.

You can leave. Or…you could stay.

For endless minutes, he lay there, reliving every delicious, heart-pounding, mind-blowing, soul-rending moment that came after that.

He replayed it in pieces. The sound she’d made against his mouth, the way her hand had fisted in his hair as though she couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.

She settled, in the end, on closer.

He thought about the nights he’d lain in bunks and safehouses and tents and even a goddamn hospital bed, telling himself he’d made peace with never touching her again.

It hadn’t even been close to peace. It had been him holding his breath, and tonight he’d finally let it go in one huge whoosh. Now his chest ached with a sensation suspiciously close to hope, somehow worse than regret had ever been.

Regret he knew how to survive. He had no idea what to do with hope.

Years of wanting her had built up behind a dam, and tonight it broke. Now he had no idea what came next. Hell, he didn’t even know where he stood.

He didn’t know what it meant to her either. Maybe it was grief and adrenaline needing an outlet. Maybe it was more.

Or maybe she was already wishing it had never happened.

A knock on his door cut through his spiral. Rorke’s knock—two quick, one slow. A rhythm they’d used for each other’s doors since early days of Sierra team.