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When she collapsed in a mass of boneless shivers, Clay had his jeans shoved down his hips and his condom-covered cock poised at her folds.
“Say you want me, Lark.” His words ground over her heightened senses.
“I want you so bad.”
“I fucking want you too.” In one hard thrust, he filled her.
She hooked her arms around his neck and yanked him into a kiss. Their mouths fused and the world vanished. Clay moved with her, inside her, and the world disappeared in a flood of sensation and emotion.
She was falling in love with him. She wanted to know all his secrets and dreams. She needed to know what held him back and propelled him forward.
She wanted to support him in everything he did, to love and care for him like she’d never cared for another human in her life.
Feeling as though every drag of his cock through her slick walls instilled more and more life in her, she clung to him. His dirty talk transformed to incoherent grunts.
“Take my cum, doll. Take…every…fucking…drop!” He threw his head back on a roar of release that shot her overboard too. With one arm, he lifted her off the ground and pounded her through a shared orgasm that shattered them both.
When they slowed, and they could breathe again, their gazes locked…and she saw that more than their bodies had shattered.
Their walls had fallen.
ChapterThirteen
Clay had been on a lot of stakeouts that ended in arrests being made. And he’d experienced his fair share of failed ones too. Some went south instantly and others were slow sinking ships.
One thing they all had in common was that his backup weighed more than a hundred and twenty pounds and knew how to shoot a gun if the situation called upon it.
Lark sat next to him in the truck, popping peanut M&Ms into her mouth. Though it was dark, he noted how she emptied a few into her palm and then selected certain colors. Red first, then orange, then yellow. The blue and brown she dumped back into the bag.
“What’s wrong with the other colors?” he asked after watching this phenomenon a few times.
She popped an orange one in her mouth. “Not my favorite. Do you always hand out snacks while you’re on stakeout?”
“No. You get special treatment.”
She wiggled in her seat. “Mmm. I like special treatment. Do I get more later?”
He slanted a smile at her. “If you listen to everything I tell you to do.”
She crunched another candy. “So, Livingston’s meeting us and bringing backup. I’m going to be locked in the truck while you guys storm the warehouse.”
“Something like that.” He wasn’t ready to tell her that she wasn’t going to be within a mile of the warehouse when the raid went down. Livingstonwasbringing backup—to take Lark away.
The drive back to East Canon had taken no time at all, but it was enough time for Clay to formulate a plan to ensure she wasn’t in the vicinity. Plus, the warehouse itself could be unstable if explosive materials were onsite, and that was entirely likely.
Clay and Livingston had one hell of a text thread going. They started with how an image search on the guy from Quick Bunny turned up what the FBI hadn’t been able to and why they believed this to be an inside job. That morphed to how much backup Livingston could provide Clay, and ended with the man saying he just cleared his schedule and was on his way.
Deep in thought, Clay stroked his knuckles across his jaw. He’d known Quaide Livingston for a long time. Long enough to know when he was happy—and to know that he wasn’t anymore.
He’d seen plenty of cops who lost the heart for their work. They soon switched to desk assignments and detective work that would take them off the beat. But that rarely helped revive their passion for the work.
How long had Livingston been with the FBI now? He didn’t sign the papers to re-up with the Army at the same time Clay had passed on the opportunity. They struck out on separate journeys about the same time. That meant Quaide had been an FBI agent for a hell of a long time. The guy wasn’t just burnt out—he’d been roasted over a fire, scorched to a crisp and then thrust into the coals one last time.
His realization about his friend had Clay’s mind working over an opportunity for Quaide—with Sentry.
Who better to work alongside him than his own contact? Quaide knew exactly what kind of fault line Clay would be walking with the task force, and he came with a built-in web of associates.
A prospective team formed in his mind, comprised of himself and Quaide, along with Julius and Jennings. The Abels would benefit the team as long as they could stop eyeing up Lark.
