Chapter 22 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
I wake slowly, so cozy I want to stay in this position forever. I don’t open my eyes right away, hoping the sun isn’t up yet. My cheek rests on something solid and warm, and it takes me a second to realize it’s not the pillow. There’s a steady movement beneath me.
Oh god!
I’m sprawled half across Brady.
One arm is flung across his chest, the other curled loosely between us. My leg is hitched over his lower abdomen like I climbed him in my sleep. His arm curves around me. Locking me to him, as if I belong here.
It feels like I do. Like I want to wake up like this forever.
For a minute, I let myself relax into the cadence of his chest rising and falling beneath me, my eyes still closed. The thump of his heart is strong and even under my palm, and an ache grows deep in my chest.
He smells so good. Soap and cedar and something decidedly male. I press my nose to his chest before I can stop myself I inhale. He lets out a small breath, but doesn’t wake.
Lifting my lashes, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains from the street lamps.
Brady’s face is turned toward me, his strong jaw covered in scruff, his lashes—absurdly thick for a man—feathered against his cheeks.
He looks younger like this. It’s the first time I’ve seen him with his guard completely down.
I know I should slide away before he wakes up.
But I don’t.
I don’t want this moment to end.
Realization spirals through me. I’m balancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice. My rational brain tries to reason with me, reminding me I have a terrible track record with men, and falling for my bodyguard might be the worst decision yet.
What if I’m confused?
What if it’s only because he is the one thing standing between me and the people after me? Trauma bonded.
But that’s just it. He’s not just standing vigil, he’s actively trying to solve the problem for me. I was a bitch to him when this first started. I know that. Even then, other than forcing me to admit we knew each other, he’s never thrown any of the things I confided in him that night back at me.
It doesn’t matter. I heave a loud internal sigh. Because no matter how much I deny it to myself, smart or not, I care about him. A lot.
I trace his shoulder with my gaze, following the lines of his muscles to where it leads into his collarbone, and then lower to the slow rise and fall of his sculpted chest. He’s shirtless.
When did that happen? He was definitely wearing one when I fell asleep.
I would have remembered this view. My fingers twitch against him.
It would be so easy to kiss him.
I want to kiss him. Badly…
Don’t be stupid, my brain hisses. This isn’t the time to blur lines or test his boundaries. Not when we are literally hiding from the bad guys.
His lashes lift without warning, and green eyes stare back at me.
“Comfortable?” His voice is rough from sleep, and god help me, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. His large hand skates up my leg that is—yes, still thrown across him—up to where I’m basically caressing his chest and settles it over mine.
“Very,” I whisper before the thought is fully formed.
His gaze darkens as it drifts down, pausing at my lips. His jaw flexes.
“This is a bad idea, Firefly,” he says, voice strained.
“I know.” I arch into him, my body contradicting my words. My thigh shifts lower and presses against the thick, long length of him.
His eyes flare, the green deepening to black in the shadows. “We shouldn’t,” he murmurs, but doesn’t move away.
The air thickens between us, heavy with everything we aren’t saying. What I’m not ready to give voice to. I wait, holding my breath, every nerve ending in my body sparking to life.
Finally, he moves, his hand sliding up my spine slowly until his fingers splay over the back of my neck. The contact sends heat racing through my veins.
I’m officially a puddle.
His gaze locks on mine, and the conflicting emotions I see there takes my breath away.
“Are you sure?” His voice is quiet, but I can hear the weight in his words. His own hesitation. Right now, I don’t care about rules or protocols. I want this man. All of him. And deep down I know what crossing this line means. For both of us.
I lean in until his breath ghosts over my lips. “Yes.” The word glides from my lips to his.
The kiss starts soft, almost tentative. His lips caress mine, like he’s giving me a chance to change my mind…
Or maybe he’s trying to decide if he should change his.
I press closer, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
His palm cups the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as his mouth fully claims mine.
Hot sparks of pleasure ignite under my skin when his tongue slides against mine, coaxing a needy moan.
The air around us electrifies, and everything else disappears.
There is only the dizzying slide of his mouth over mine, the scrape of his stubble against my skin, and the molten ache that pools low in my stomach. All that exists are the hard muscles under my hands and the growing need inside me.
I press my breasts harder into his side, my knee moving deliberately over him. Jerking beneath me, he groans a deep and low sound that vibrates against my skin, dark and hungry.
The hand on my back roams to the curve of my waist, and rolls me toward him, bringing us face to face.
My fingers curl into the hot skin of his abdomen and then slide lower, scraping my nails over ridges of muscle and twitching skin. I palm him through the fabric of his pants, wrapping my fingers around his length.
His hips buck upward. “Fuck.” The word is a ragged vibration against my mouth, and I grip more firmly, my hand moving in slow strokes.
His hips flex into my hand again, breath shuddering. “Elizabeth…”
My heart hammers, blood pounding in my ears. “Touch me,” I beg, gripping his wrist and guiding his hand to my breast under the robe.
His thumb brushes my nipple, teasing it to a tight peak, before catching it between his fingers and pinching. My hips shift restlessly as his fingers drop between us. Brady yanks the tie free, causing the fabric to gape open. Pushing the robe from my shoulders, he suddenly freezes.
“Your stitches,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I nip at his lower lip, tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “You won’t.” My voice is steady despite the fact I’m trembling with need. “It’s going to hurt a lot worse if you stop.”
There is the slightest flicker in his eyes, and then, almost as if the words ‘fuck it’ detonate in the space between us, his mouth crashes into mine.
I’m lost.
Every coherent thought in my head flees as his mouth drags lower, his stubble gently abrading the sensitive skin of my throat, and his lips suck at the hollow of my throat. Heat and need flush through me.
In one smooth motion, he flips me so that I’m straddling him, my knees on either side of his lean hips.
Pulling the robe from my shoulders he guides it down until it pools at the top of my thighs.
Brady’s gaze drags over me, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling faster.
One hand traces rough fingertips down an invisible line from my chin, down my throat and between my breasts, settling over my stomach in a deliberate sweep, leaving my skin tingling in their wake.
“So incredibly beautiful.” His voice is almost reverent.
Something flares in my chest in a sensation that can only be described as a small volcanic explosion.
I slide back rising on my knees as he lifts his hips to help me shove his pants and boxer-briefs out of the way.
He’s thick and hard, and I shiver as I push the robe completely off, and drop it next to us. I don’t want any barriers between us.
I rock against him, reveling in the way his eyes roll slightly back. “I have you at my mercy,” I tease.
His eyes fix on mine, heated and full of raw hunger. “Enjoy it. Because once you’re healed, you’re all mine.” The dark promise in his tone sends a shiver racing up my spine.
Brady surges up so we are facing each other, an arm wrapping tight around my back, his palm settling just under my ribs. His mouth works down my neck again, in slow and open-mouthed kisses, his teeth tugging at the skin over my pulse.
His free hand slides between my thighs, fingers stroking through the slick heat there, making me whimper, and writhe on his lap.
“You’re shaking,” he says against my collarbone. The hand on my back is steady and strong, keeping me upright so I don’t pull at my stitches. He is supporting my entire weight with his body.
Brady touches me as if I’m precious to him. A feeling so unfamiliar my throat tightens with unexpected emotion, and tears prick at my eyes. He makes me feel safe, protected. Cherished.
Whatever reservations I still hold about letting this man into my heart disappear.
“Baby?”
“Not from pain,” I promise, locking my legs around his waist, my hips rocking desperately forward. “Don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning to.” Brady’s mouth dips, nuzzling the swell of my breast, before his lips close over my nipple, tugging gently before pulling the tender peak between his teeth just as his thumb presses down hard on my clit.
I thrust against him, feeling the length of him rub against me.
Electricity sparks down my spine, and I think I might explode.
It’s not enough. I need more. I need him inside me.
“Please,” I pant, my hips moving frantically against his hand.
Brady pulls back, his breath harsh and reaches blindly for his pants on the bed next to us. Without moving the arm supporting me, he finds a condom in his wallet, and rips the foil with his teeth, rolling it on one-handed.
It’s absurdly hot.
Brady’s free hand hooks under my thigh, pulling me closer until the thick heat of him is poised right where I need him. My hips roll on instinct, a primal demand to take him inside me.