Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
A lamp crashed to the floor, its bulb blinking to a quick death, but Wyatt barely noticed, too preoccupied with Natasha in his arms.
The second they left the en suite, they’d become even more ravenous for each other.
Her tits against his chest, luscious lips locked with his . . . they’d stumbled across the room, knocking shit over as they took turns dragging their fingers over each other’s bodies. Hell, they probably looked like they were practicing hand-to-hand combat maneuvers.
The oil on canvas knock-off of a Jackson Pollock slid to the floor next to the nightstand when Natasha gained the upper hand, taking charge this time and backing Wyatt into the wall. Damn, her passion and physical strength turned him on.
He grabbed her arse, urging her to wrap her legs around his hips. She did it effortlessly, eagerly rubbing her wet pussy against his hard cock.
He had to have her. Right. The. Fuck. Now.
The plan was to make this last. To stretch it out for as long as possible.
He’d wanted to make love because he was pretty sure all he’d ever done was screw, and despite the physical passion they shared for each other, there was something else between them. Something he couldn’t quite explain, or maybe understand yet.
“Tell me.” He flipped their positions, bringing her back to the wall. Her legs were still tight around his body, but he’d yet to enter her, even though her pussy was a red flag waving in the wind, and his dick the damn bull.
Restraint. He was trying to maintain some shred of restraint.
“Tell me the difference,” he rasped.
“Between making love and sex?” she asked between breathy moans as she bucked against him, and it took him a moment to shake off the animal inside so he didn’t succumb to impulse and pound into her like a wild, uncontrollable beast.
Sex was one thing.
But what he felt for her right now. . . it was next-level. Something different. Maybe he already had his answer, but he still wanted to hear her say the words. Feel the meaning brush across his skin.
“Yes.” He growled, the timbre somewhere between the roar of a lion and the howl of a dying wolf. His dick was going to die a painful death if he didn’t plunge deep inside her wet center soon, though.
Natasha’s slender fingers threaded through the hair at his temple, and she tipped her head to the side. A sweet smile graced her lips. “The difference between making love and having sex is how you feel about the person you’re with.”
“And how do you feel about me?” he asked, almost nervous to hear her answer.
“I feel happy. In this world of chaos, the risks that come with my job, the heartache and despair I see . . . despite all that, I feel happy when I’m with you. You make my heart feel good. You make me feel good.” Her lips crooked into a fuller smile. “Really, really damn good.”
He allowed her legs to slip from his waist, for her feet to touch the floor because maybe they both needed to be grounded in the moment. To fully appreciate it. “Can I ask you . . . what kind of person do you think I am?”
She leaned back against the wall, her full breasts lifting, distracting him. He needed to control himself for a moment. But damn, he wanted to reach out and grab hold of her again. Plant his mouth on a rosebud nipple and lightly tease it between his teeth.
“You’re this ruggedly sexy guy who saves people for a living and does it without any thanks.
You care about your teammates and will die for them without a second thought.
You constructed walls, which probably started when you were a kid because of how your parents raised you, and those walls got higher after Clara and continued to rise as you watched people you cared about die. ”
It was like his heart took a nosedive into his stomach as she spoke. His next breath was shakier than he’d expected as he looked into her eyes and curved a hand around her hip.
“I don’t want to knock your walls down, because I’ve learned they only stay down if you’re the one to remove them.
” Her brows knitted, so much intensity and compassion there.
“But I’d love for that to happen. Once the walls are gone, you’ll be able to feel everything I feel for you without having to ask me. You’ll just know.”
“Jesus, Tash.” He brought his forehead to hers and held her cheek with his free hand.
“I’m no Freud, but I—”
He kissed her, and not even a freight train barreling his way could stop him.
Not The Knight.
Not any terrorist arsehole in the world could stand between him and this moment.
Right now, it was just her.
She slipped a hand between them and gripped his shaft. Her palm slid up and down from root to tip, and he clamped down on his back teeth, holding her eyes until he could no longer remain standing.
In one swift movement, he released her hand from his cock, scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She let her head hit the pillow, her blonde hair falling wildly beneath her, the touches of pink a reminder she’d come to Canada to chase a vicious and deadly hacker.
He hastily sheathed himself with a condom, then brought the brunt of his weight onto his forearms on top of her, his chest brushing against her nipples.
“I want you even more than the sunshine,” he whispered without thinking, forgetting she wouldn’t know what he was talking about. And before she could ask, he kissed her. Harder than he’d meant to. Almost bruising. A kiss meant to punish himself for waiting so long to be with her.
He knew deep inside this was the right time, though. Any sooner, and they may not have been ready.
Her hips lifted as an invitation, and he took it. Unable to stop the bull from charging.
The moment their bodies joined, he raised his head to find her eyes.
A tightness filled his chest. A thrum of absolute certainty cutting through, touching every space inside of him, from heart to mind.
He drove his length deeper, and each thrust had her moaning, crying out, but never losing sight of his eyes.
He now understood the difference between sex and making love. It had nothing to do with the movements and everything to do with the organ in his chest he hadn’t believed still worked.
His heart swelled, and his shoulders lightly trembled as they moved together as partners, as one.
And something inside of him let go and damned if there’d be no turning back now.
He would breach every possible point and blow the hell out of every wall or door if it meant keeping her in his life.
She’d chased The Knight for years, but he could see himself chasing the ends of the earth if it meant even one more connection with her like this.
Natasha shot Wyatt a lazy smile and ran her palm along his inked bicep. “You know, I’m not exactly surprised no one believed you were a hacker. Most hackers spend too much time behind a keyboard to build muscles like yours.”
He made a show of flexing his bicep, and she chuckled. “Not the only thing that’s hard, sweetheart.” He waggled his brows, and her focus dipped between their naked bodies.
They’d run out of condoms two hours ago. He’d only had two on him since his buddies actually had used some for their long guns on the op in Svalbard to keep the snow out of the muzzles.
He was generally more prepared, but he hadn’t had sex in a long time, nor had he ever made love, and after doing so with Natasha, it was so damn addicting he hadn’t wanted to stop.
So, despite all the heavy shit going on in their lives, they’d gone at it back-to-back, taking a shower once in between that had been meant as a chance to catch their breaths.
Her lowering to her knees beneath the water and sucking him dry had left him barely able to walk after that, though, so it’d taken another thirty minutes to get his energy back since he wasn’t exactly twenty anymore.
“And by the way, Jasper seemed to buy my Link story,” he added when she wrapped her hand tight around the base of his shaft.
“He was too distracted by your muscles and looks.”
“Hey, I’m more than a pretty face,” he teased and leaned in to kiss her. “Can I confess something?” he asked after breaking their lips apart.
“Will I want to keep jacking you off if you do?” She arched a brow. “You’re in a rather dangerous position right now.”
He closed his eyes for a second as she shifted her hand up and down, adding more pressure at the base and catching some precum at the head to use beneath her touch.
“I think I’m safe,” he croaked out, attempting to withhold from blowing his load impossibly fast.
She tipped her head. “Then by all means.”
He cleared his throat and draped his arm over her hip bone to rest his hand on her arse cheek. She definitely worked out. Her glutes were beyond stellar.
And now he was distracted by memories of her a few hours ago on all fours with her arse up and her clit pink and soft and ready for him to penetrate.
What had he wanted to confess? Hell if he knew.
And . . . fuuuuuck. He came all over the bed, and she kept her hand sliding up and down until he was empty.
He collapsed onto his back, his dick slapping the side of his leg, totally spent.
“I completely forget what the bloody hell I was going to say. It’s like I went arse over tit and—”
“And that’s British for?”
He rolled his head to the side, noting that the room looked like it’d survived a post-rock show party. They were not going to get their deposit back. Jessica would kill him.
. . . And it was worth every second.
“Arse over tit?” she repeated as if realizing the signals to his brain were still crossing every which way.
His palms smacked down onto his chest, his elbows resting on each side of him. He was sated. Relaxed. Almost forgetful of why they were in Canada.
“To fall over,” he said with a grin. “Sometimes, a bit of London slips back into my words.”
“More than sometimes.”
He tipped his chin to find her gorgeous eyes, and his heart squeezed to discover a smile on her face as well. His favorite feature of hers.
“My buddy A.J. likes to joke I’m more Yankee—even though I’ve never lived in the north—when I’m stateside, but when my boots leave the U.S., I become a Brit again.”
“He’s the comedian, right?”
He smiled. “He’s my best mate, even though we rag on each other all day long. But hell, Chris and Finn are quite the comics.” Of course, Liam could be funny, too. Then there was Asher and Knox. “Actually, we’re all a bunch of wiseasses,” he admitted.
“Except the quiet one, Roman?”
“He has his moments.”
She propped her head into her palm, resting her elbow on the bed, and he pivoted to face her. Her glorious tits were begging to be touched, so, naturally, he reached out and palmed her breast.
“They’re right there, what do you expect?” he asked when she’d dropped her focus to his hand.
“They’re sore from you grabbing them all night.”
He smoothed her pink nipple between the pad of his thumb and forefinger. “Want me to stop?”
She closed her eyes and sucked on her bottom lip.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He reached between her thighs. She was already wet for him. “You tender down there, too? I could kiss you—make you feel better.”
She went to her back, brought her feet to the bed, and parted her thighs as a direct invitation. Damn this woman was perfect.
He eagerly moved between her legs, avoiding the wet, sticky spot his cum had left on the sheet and settled between her thighs.
Her hands dove into his hair as she shifted and moved against his tongue, grinding her way to an orgasm with his mouth on her.
“No, damn it,” she cursed when his mobile began vibrating on the nightstand. “I’m so close.”
“I’m not stopping,” he said before claiming her again with his tongue and lips.
“They might know something. Harper might need us.”
“Thirty seconds won’t make a difference. Now shut your brain off and ride this fucking orgasm like you want to.”
She moaned at his words. She’d admitted to him last night she’d never been turned on by cursing and dirty talk in the bedroom until him, and his sailor’s mouth was happy to oblige.
She jerked against his face, coming hard, and he held her hips down so as not to lose contact while she cried out a string of Oh, Gods followed by one long shout of his name.
“I really hope Harper doesn’t kill us,” she said after catching her breath and sitting up a minute later.
He dialed Harper back. “More than worth the arse chewing to have you come on my face,” he said just before the call picked up.
“Hey,” Harper answered. “I never heard back from Natasha, so I’m hoping you both got some sleep.”
Maybe a total of thirty minutes. “We’re about to head to your room,” he said when he noticed it was already eight in the morning. “Any news?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll explain when you come up.”
“Give us five minutes to”—he cleared his throat—“get cleaned up, and then loop the security feeds.”
Natasha’s cheeks softened with a touch of pink.
“On it, thanks,” Harper replied.
He set the phone down and climbed on top of Natasha. “You smell like sex.”
She ran her hands over his chest. “So do you.”
“You said you’re stealthy at changing clothes . . . how are you with showers?” He smirked.
“As long as I don’t have two hundred pounds of solid muscle in there distracting me, I can get in and out in under sixty seconds.”
“So, basically, I need to stay out here.”
“Yes.” She grinned. “That’s an order.”