Chapter 14 #2
Watching her tip over the edge was all it took. Colt came. Cock pulsing, emptying into her in strong rippling spurts. Over and over until he wasn’t sure he had any fluid left. Was probably at risk of dying from dehydration because he’d never come that hard. Given that much.
He collapsed onto his forearms, praying he wasn’t putting all his weight on her.
Making it impossible for her to breathe.
Not that he could. Gasping pants with his face buried in her hair wasn’t doing anything to ease the burning sensation in his lungs.
Erase the colored dots swimming across his vision.
He’d spent two years in her arms. Making love to her whenever possible. Stealing a day, hell, a few hours, just to meet up. Connect. Sometimes they’d spent weeks together. Enjoying the simple pleasure of occupying the same space. It had helped when those weeks became time apart.
But never had he felt this invested. Completely consumed by her. By her skin, soft and smooth against his. Her silky hair spread across his arms. Her breath tickling the hairs on his nape. Her pulse echoing inside him.
He was in love with Ellis Baker. Had been from the second date and would be until he died. Plain and simple. No fanfare. No singing angels. Just love. Deep. Pure.
Ellis exhaled. Not overly loud, but Colt felt it. Against his neck, in his chest. Christ. He was still lying on top of her. Squishing her into the mattress. Their bodies were plastered together from chest to toes. Skin against skin. Every possible inch touching.
Fuck, her wound. Sure, the injury hadn’t been that large and was to the side.
Probably not pressed against him, but he was heavy.
Outweighed her by at least eighty pounds, probably more.
And it was thick, hard muscle. No give. No softness.
The kind that would compress her lungs—make it impossible for her to breathe.
Probably aggravate her ribs. The ones those bastards had bruised.
Colt immediately lifted his body. He couldn’t quite get his damn brain to send the signal to roll—pull out—but he could alleviate some of the pressure. Allow her to suck in some air. Were her lips blue? Had he halfway suffocated her while lying there, still burning from the intensity of his orgasm?
He had to make this right. Fix it because he couldn’t think about her kicking him out.
Telling him to leave and never look back.
She might let him help her with McCormick.
Ellis was smart, and she’d come to the conclusion that she needed him.
Needed his team. But needing him to watch her back—eliminate a few bad guys—wasn’t the same as needing him. In her life. In her bed.
She’d said she wasn’t asking for promises, and he wasn’t going to spring any on her. Wouldn’t spook her or pressure her, but they were going to have a future. If it took fifty years of “keeping it casual”. Not actually labelling it anything, he’d be fine. Losing any hope of that…
Colt took a deep breath, steeled himself for a hard jab to his ribs. Maybe a strike to his head. Then looked down at her. Blue eyes staring up at him. Heavy-lidded but soft. No tension at the corners, no pursed lips. Just lax muscles and a dreamy smile.
She reached for his jaw—palmed it. “Arms tired?”
He blinked, resisted the urge to dig a finger in his ear because he obviously had something in there. “Are my arms tired?”
“You moved.”
“Because I was suffocating you. Christ, I’m surprised you haven’t passed out.”
She laughed. Damn, it sounded light and easy. “If I had passed out, it wouldn’t have been from lack of oxygen. That…” The smile fell slightly, her gaze narrowing. “I like feeling you on top of me.”
“You like not being able to breathe?”
“I like feeling safe. Been a long time since I’ve experienced that.”
And just like that, he fell harder. Deeper. The woman was going to kill him, and there wasn’t a damn thing Colt could do about it. Delta Force soldier. Trained warrior. And he was going to be bested by a brown-haired beauty with blue eyes. Half his size with twice the heart.
He lowered himself, smiling at the way she inhaled, held it, then let it out, eyes drifting shut. “I’ll stay for as long as you’d like. And when you’re ready, I’ll clean us up, then we’ll both get some sleep. Okay?”
He waited, but her breath was already evening out. Her lashes resting against her creamy skin. “El?”
She hummed, eyes never opening.
He sighed, gathering her a bit closer, trying to push aside the last twinges of guilt still gnawing at him.
The ones that had surfaced when she’d been recounting her story.
That it hadn’t been just the race across the streets of Seattle that had likely ended in their tryst, tonight.
The Agency. Getting waylaid by McCormick.
Having her life and everyone in it stolen.
Ripped out of her hands because she’d wanted to keep her fellow servicemen safe.
Wanted to keep him safe.
That’s why she’d gone digging—risked everything because Delta Force Alpha Squadron had nearly been decimated.
Not just him. Cannon. Six. Phoenix. Crow.
Dungeon. Priest. Relic. Ghost. Fetch. The men who’d followed him into battle.
Who were a constant in his life both on and off the battlefield.
She’d felt responsible they’d been hit and hit hard.
That they’d nearly lost Crow. Bastard was hardcore.
Had bounced back despite taking three rounds to the torso—armor-piercing bullets that had sliced through his vest without slowing.
A few inches either way, and he would have been dead.
A statistic in a black bag struck down on a mission that had never technically happened.
So, if she’d sought shelter in his arms as a celebration for not dying.
For having the courage to keep going—forge a new life.
If she planned on keeping it strictly physical.
It didn’t matter. Because regardless of how their interaction had started tonight, he knew how it was going to end. Her. With him. Permanently.
Ten minutes. That’s how long he’d lie there, watching her.
Drinking her in. Every twitch. Every soft sigh.
Enough time she wouldn’t wake when he moved.
But even if she did, he’d be back in a flash.
Warm cloth, then his chest as a pillow. They could figure out their next steps, tomorrow.
Until then, she was staying in his arms. Safe. Sheltered.
His.