“West…”
His finger brushed her lips. “Again,” he growled.
“West,” she gasped. His hips moved like lightning. Waves stormed her now, drowned her in a sea of sensation. “West.”
He groaned and pushed two fingers past her lips, past her teeth, and pressed them against her tongue.
“Who?” He thrust deep. His gaze locked with hers.
She couldn’t speak around his fingers. Couldn’t catch her breath. A surge of pleasure lifted her high—terrifyingly high—so all she could do was cry out, which she did, loud enough to rattle her eardrums. And then she was coming. Not just coming, but ugly-coming, in a moaning, shaking, flushed-faced rush. From somewhere beyond the anarchy of her orgasm, she felt West pull his fingers from her mouth. Suddenly un-muffled, her moan became a wail, and it soared an octave when he reared back and lifted her hips off the bed. Her head slipped farther off the mattress, and for half a second she feared she might fall. But his grip held her fast, pulling her hips to his and buffeting her with a series of furious thrusts that turned her moan into a choppy staccato and their reflection into a blur. Just as unexpectedly, he shallowed his thrusts to rapid, measured bursts of energy. The blurry image in the mirror sharpened. He rose above her, skin gleaming with sweat, head thrown back, throat working. She watched, mesmerized, as his breath stalled and a shudder wracked his unshakable frame. Her name flooded her ears in a long, low groan.
Chapter Thirteen
Move your ass, Donovan.
West’s mind issued the order, but the rest of him refused to obey. He lay sprawled on Roxy, his exhausted cock still happily ensconced inside her. Maybe she liked a lingerer, maybe she didn’t, but his dead weight definitely made it impossible for her to assert much of a preference—possibly made it difficult for her to breathe. That thought rebooted his offline nervous system. He kissed the side of her neck where a pulse fluttered then eased away. Their sweat-glued skin separated reluctantly. He pinched the condom with one hand and rolled off her. She sighed as he withdrew—relief or regret—and then let out a deeper, shorter sound when his weight landed on the mattress and jostled the noise from her.
While he took a tissue from the box on his nightstand and dealt with the condom, she indulged in a long-limbed, toes-pointed, fingers-splayed stretch and then curled onto her side, giving him a prime view down the slender line of her back, the curve of her waist, and flare of her heart-shaped ass. When she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, he noted her heavy-lidded eyes and satisfied smile. Afterglow looked good on Roxy.
“Thank you for the proper apology, Officer Donovan.”
So did gratitude. He turned as well, tunneled his arm under her waist, and hauled her in until her back fit against his chest. “What about the proper fucking?” He slipped his other arm over her hip and pressed his hand between her thighs, running his fingers through folds still warm and fluid from said fucking. “Did you not notice that part?”
Her answer was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. She covered his hand with hers and clamped her thighs tight to trap his fingers. “The proper fucking was duly noted and appreciated.”
And speaking of appreciation…he bundled her closer, reluctant to dim the afterglow with anything serious, but he owed her an actual apology. “Thanks for looking after me last night, Roxy. I’m sorry I put you in a position to do it. You should earn hazardous duty pay for that.”
She patted the arm he had wrapped around her middle. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there at some point.”
“You don’t drink,” he pointed out.
“Not anymore, no. I should probably get going. I’ve got a load of towels in the dryer.”
And there went the afterglow. His Goodhart translation skills read the I don’t want to talk about my past subtext easily enough. At least not with him, she didn’t. And maybe it was contrary of him given how hard he’d tried to keep her at a distance, but now that he had her tucked against him, he wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.
At some point, he’d have to, because her itchy feet and talent would propel her out of his arms and his world soon enough, but until then, he wanted her—body, mind, and anything else he could convince her to share with him. Hell, he wanted to help her to the extent she’d let him. Right now, that goal seemed best served by picking a topic of conversation that didn’t have her ready to bolt. Something to convince her it was safe to stick around for a minute.
He swept her hair over her shoulder and traced the tattoo decorating the back of her neck just below her hairline. It looked like some kind of Arabic language. “I swear, Reckless, getting you naked is like unwrapping a surprise. I never know what I’m going to find next.” Again, he traced the tattoo, rewarded when her shoulders relaxed. “What’s this?”
“Hmm. It’s Sanskrit. Be alive.”
“And you chose it because…?”
“Those two little words convey a lot of meanings. Live your life. Appreciate the joys and the struggles. Be present. I wanted to carry that wisdom with me, so—”
“So, you gave yourself a reminder you can’t see?”
“Not exactly, no.” Her voice held a smile. “I chose that spot to protect and heighten the sensitivity of my alta major chakra.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’s illegal in all fifty states.”
She laughed, as he’d intended. Leave it to Roxy to appreciate the randomness of mixing ancient language, esoteric far-eastern meditation theory, and body art into a personal philosophy. “Let’s just say I don’t need to see something to know it’s there.”
He trailed a finger down her spine and then skimmed his thumb over the long, sweeping lines he now saw were not simply wings, but a bird with a tail made of flames. “What’s the story here?”
“That’s my phoenix. The first time I saw it, I guess you could say it spoke to me. I liked the idea of having wings at my back and admired a creature with the power to rise from its own ashes.” She shrugged. “Plus, I thought having a tattoo back there was kinda sexy.”
“You’re sexy, Roxy. The tattoo is just a little ink.”