Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security 2)

“We need to get up,” I repeat.

She’s sore and needs to be taken care of, and even though I wouldn’t fuck her again this morning, I’m considering her mouth a little too hard right now with her pressed against me all naked, warm, and soft.

“Let’s go.” I throw the covers off, smacking her ass with a heavy hand when she doesn’t get in any sort of rush to climb off of me.

She squeals but doesn’t get out of bed. This vixen decides now is the best time to swivel her hips. The power move would normally force me into action, making her understand that I’m still in charge, but the slickness of her center on my thigh is almost enough for me to give in.

“You’re sore, and I need a shower.”

She pouts as I climb out from under her. When I look back at her, my resistance begins to crumble. Jesus, she looks right at home in my bed, and it makes me wish that all of this shit wasn’t coming to an end tonight. I want her here every day.

“Keep looking at me like that and all I’m going to do is fuck your throat.”

She grins. “Okay.”

“Shower. Now, Whitney.”

Her smile fades when she moves, pain marking her gorgeous features. I grab her around the waist before she can slide past me into the bathroom.

“How sore?”

“Just a little.”

“Let me see.”

She squirms when I begin to drop to my knees. I’m a lot to handle, and it was clear the second I pushed inside of her last night that she was going to have a hard time with my size. Dammit, I should’ve checked in on her or kept my greedy hands to myself in the middle of the night.

“Don’t!” She swats at my fingers as I try to lift one leg to get a better look. “I’m fine.”

“Let me—”

“Wren!” she screeches. “Stop!”

My hands fall away immediately, and I stand to face her. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine.” My jaw clenches. I don’t know much about women, but I know this is the equivalent to a death threat. “Just a little sore. You’re taking all of the charm out of our night together. I don’t need you getting a bird’s-eye view of my pussy. It’s not sexy.”

“You saying pussy is sexy,” I tease, the smile returning to her lips exactly the way I hoped for. “I’ll run you a bath.”

“Will you join me?” she asks, clamping her fingers around my hand when I reach for her.

“No.”

“No?”

“Can’t.”

“Have work to do?”

“You’re sore,” I tell her as I release her hand to lean over to put the stopper in the tub. “If I get in with you, it’ll only get worse.”

“Are you this sweet with all the girls?”

I stiffen before standing up to face her. My hands find her cheeks, and I don’t speak until I’m certain I have every ounce of her undivided attention.

“There’s no one else. There isn’t going to be anyone else.” I do my best to keep my eyes off her lips when a little gasp escapes. “We haven’t talked much about what happens when we’re not together, but you’re mine. Tell me you understand.”

“I do.”

“No online flirting. No coffee dates. No orgasms incited by any thoughts other than of me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“The same goes for you?”

A slow grin tugs up the corners of my mouth. “Same goes for me.”

Her brilliant smile has to be the same composition of the sun because it energizes me, giving me all the warmth I think I’ll ever need.

“Get in the tub, Whitney, before my cock finds its way into your throat.”

I hold her hand as she steps over the edge.

“Do you have any bubble bath?”

My eyes dart away for two reasons. One, because she’s gently running her hand over the top of the water and I’d give nearly anything to be the waves licking at her skin. Two, because I do have bubble bath, but revealing that is just going to ruin the sensual mood.

Maybe a little break from the sexual tension will be exactly what I need. I turn away from her and open the cabinet under the sink.

“If you laugh, I’ll spank your ass.”

Looking over my shoulder, I watch her roll her pretty lips between her teeth in preparation.

But the chuckle escapes anyway.

“Mr. Bubble?”

Her valiant attempt not to laugh forces a chuckle from my own throat.

“It’s the best,” I explain as I walk toward her and unscrew the lid.

The laughter dies away when I inch nearer. The soap mixes with the water spewing from the drain, but her eyes are locked on my erect cock. How can I be so comfortable around her that I haven’t noticed my own nakedness?

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn when her fingers twitch just below the surface of the water. “Soak the soreness away, and I’ll make breakfast.”