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“I’m wrung out, too. Usually, we’re helping strangers. This... well, it’s not usually this... personal.” They were sleeping together and, even if today was only sleeping, they’d already had sex once. They’d talked about continuing their nascent relationship when this was over. She wasn’t sure how much more personal it could get.
He flinched. “I’m sorry. I never wanted your family to get hurt.”
Once again, she pulled back to look at him, needing him to understand. “Well, that, too, but that’s not what I meant. Yes, I’m terrified for my family, and I hate that they were terrorized last night, especially because they were just getting over what happened before. But right now, I meant that I’ve never gotten involved with a client before. Not until you. This is personal, Gabe. This right here. Us. We are personal.”
He went very still, holding her gaze. “Why didn’t you get involved with clients before?” he asked, his voice dipping low.
“I never wanted to. Nobody even made me think about it, not until I walked into the Choux that first time and saw you behind the kitchen glass. I wanted to talk to you, to maybe ask you out for coffee or something, but... I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved with you right now, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I could have kept you safer had I kept you at arm’s length, but...” She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I couldn’t seem to help myself.”
“I’m glad,” he murmured, sending chills racing across her skin. “Because I can’t seem to help myself, either. I want you, Molly Sutton. May I have you?”
Her cheeks heated in pleasure at the polite request. “I’ve been hoping you would.”
He kissed her then, long and... calm. There was a possessiveness in his touch, but it wasn’t the frantic grasping and stroking of their last time together in the hotel room.
This was confident and sure. The question in her mind wasn’t Does he like me, but more What will make him feel good? She swept her palm over his chest, teasing his nipples, feeling the harsh intake of his breath against her lips.
“Like that?” she whispered.
“Mmm. Yes. Please.” He rolled closer and his body was hot and hard... and ready. Very ready. His hands were relaxed but sure as he stroked up her thigh, urging her leg over his hip.
She continued the caresses, drifting lower and lower with each sweep of her hand. This felt lazy. Decadent. Like they had all the time in the world as the sun set over the water and the ceiling fan slowly turned.
But what if we don’t? What if the next shooter—
Stop it. Stop thinking. Just be.She banished the dark thought of what if, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, questing. He interrupted her journey when he slid his palm under the long T-shirt, cupping her butt, his hand freezing when he touched bare skin.
He reared back, eyes wide and full of old-fashioned lust. “No panties? Molly Sutton, you’re a bad girl.”
“Wasn’t wearing any earlier, either,” she said with a grin. “Not all day.” Her panties had been in the dryer when they’d left that morning to follow Mule, and borrowing underwear... Just no.
He groaned softly, sending shivers rippling down her body straight to her core. “I’m glad I didn’t know that then. I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything but your ass.” He groped her butt with a salacious waggle of his brows, making her giggle. “It’s a very, very nice ass, by the way.”
She pushed past his waistband, finding him bare beneath. Sliding her hand over his hip, she gave his butt cheek a squeeze. “Pot meet kettle,” she said, then returned to the part of him that really held her interest, wrapping her fingers around his erection. He was hard and hot, pulsing in her hand.
He let go of her ass long enough to shove his shorts down and tried to tug her shirt off. “You have to let go of me for a second,” he whispered, brushing another kiss over her lips.
She smiled. “But what if I don’t want to?”
“Then I can’t touch you and—” He made a startled sound when she let him go, yanked the shirt off herself, then fused their mouths together while gripping his cock once more.
He groaned again, deep and rumbly, before rolling her to her back and sliding down her body, kissing her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Then he sucked her nipple into his mouth, and she arched, her back coming off the mattress. She wanted to cry out, but there were people in the kitchen, close enough to hear her.
And this was private. This was for them. This was a brief oasis where they could take what they needed from each other, filling the places deep inside that had been so empty. So lonely.
They were lonely no more. Not right this minute, anyway, and for now, that was all that mattered.
She tunneled her fingers through his loose curls, soft between her fingers, tightening her grip on his hair when he started to lift his head. “No, don’t stop.”
“Not plannin’ to.” He gave her a wicked wink, then switched breasts, his hand curving over her hip on his way to her ass, which he gently squeezed again. He looked up, his mouth wet, eyes burning. “You have a beautiful body.”
“Mmm, so do you.” She ran her hands over his wide shoulders, lifting her knees to hug his lean hips and tilting her own higher to put his hard cock right where she needed it most. She shuddered, biting back a groan.
Well, not exactly where she needed it most. “Condom,” she whispered.
He raised to his elbows and reached for the packet on his nightstand. She’d placed a gun on hers. Protection, either way. The chuckle on her lips dissolved into an impatient sigh when he reared back, kneeling between her legs to roll the condom down his length.
She trailed her fingertips down his chest, across his abs, veering from his cock to lightly brush his balls. “If I’d known what you were hiding under that chef’s coat, I would have climbed you like a tree the first time I ate at the Choux.”
