His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency 6)

She nodded and lifted her face to his.

He gave her what she wanted.

Their mouths touched again, and his tongue found hers instantly. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, and he inserted two fingers inside of her, twisting them just right. She lifted her hips, writhing against him, and he massaged her with his thumb as their tongues dueled. It hadn’t been that long since they’d been together—days, really—and they’d only known each other a short time, but the intensity soaring between them was no less real, or strong, because of it.

When he’d been gone, it was like she was asleep, walking through life with her eyes half open and her mind half awake. But then he came back, and he touched her, and everything was better. Everything was whole. She was wide awake, and she needed him with a passion that could no longer be denied. She didn’t want to. Not anymore.

His fingers moved inside her, each stroke bringing her closer and closer to the precipice, until finally she was there. The world was exploding, and pleasure made her drop back limply to the couch with a long, exhausted moan. He undid his pants and pulled his zipper down, freeing his cock from his boxers, and positioned himself between her legs.

“I love you so damn much, and I want to make slow, passionate love to you tonight. But right now?” He nipped her neck, leaving a stinging bite mark behind. “I need to fuck you.”

She nodded frantically, digging her nails into the soft flesh of his ass. “Yes. God, yes.”

With a territorial growl, his mouth slammed on hers again, and he thrust inside her in one long, hard, deep stroke. She cried out, her body spasming around his in an orgasm, and he continued to move inside her, dragging her along up another hill, and then another, and another, until she was shaking and tears were running down her cheeks, and if he made her come again, she would die. But then he did it. He reached between them, pressed his fingers against her, and then thrust inside her so deep she saw stars, and the moon, and unicorns, and every other mythical thing out there, because he did it. He killed her. Death by orgasm.

And it was frigging amazing.

He moaned and stiffened, spurting inside her with one last thrust before he collapsed on top of her. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his skin on hers, the scent of his cologne teasing her nostrils, his crisp shirt digging into her soft stomach, his erection still hard and buried inside her. All of these things, all of these memories, were the ones that haunted her the most when he’d been gone. The little moments. The little things.

And that had been when she realized she loved him.

When his absence haunted her.

He kissed the side of her neck, letting out a soft chuckle. “You still alive down there, love?”

“Love?” She smiled sleepily. “That’s a new one.”

“It felt right.”

“Where’s Ginny? Do we need to go back to your place?” she asked, yawning.

“She’s with my mom, because of the wedding. I swear, I have to tackle Ginny away from her most nights.” He pushed off her and stood, offering her his hand. “But she’ll be back in the morning. Come home with me? Meet my mom tomorrow?”

Her pulse leaped, but she smiled and slid her hand into his anyway. “I’d love to.”

“Good.” He buttoned his pants back up, and she redressed, too, sliding her panties back into place and smoothing her dress over her stomach. As she fixed herself, he crossed the room and picked

up the present he’d brought with him. It was wrapped in yellow paper. “Hey, before we go, open this.”

She eyed it, biting down on her lip. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“You gave me everything. You gave me you.” He held it out. “I bought this last week, but I was waiting for it to arrive. It’s just something I knew you’d like. Something small.”

Grinning, she took it, her pulse racing with excitement. She hadn’t gotten a present like this, for no reason, in a long time. William hadn’t been big on them, and her birthday was coming up, so it had been a long time since she opened something up. She tore the wrapping paper off and stared down at the book with her mouth open.

“Hamilton: The Revolution,” she whispered, blinking away the moistness in her eyes. “The book that Lin Manuel wrote about the musical. You got me this?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I did. I saw this online, and I had to get it for you.”

“That’s…you…” She’d mentioned wanting to see the play in passing, one night, a while ago, and he remembered. He went out and bought her the book. That was so sweet, and perfect, and so very Mark. If she’d had any doubts before, then they would have been dispelled now. Here. With him watching her nervously for her reaction. “Thank you. I love it.”

“And I love you.” He smiled and held out a card that had fallen on the floor. “And there’s a card, too.”

She ripped it open. “Is it going to be sentimental, or funny? Because I’ll be honest, if it’s sappy, I…might…” Laugh. That’s what she’d been about to say. But he’d gone and stolen the words right out of her mouth. “Oh. My. God.”

He grinned, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. “They’re not until next year, but I saw they were on sale, so I jumped on—mmf.”

Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off, because she jumped on him, kissing him passionately as tears ran down her cheeks. He kissed her back, chuckling when she buried her hands in his hair, pushed him back on the couch, and straddled him.