Chapter 19
Noah turned off the icy water, his body cold but clean.
Let’s be honest. A cold shower was just what you needed.
They were back at Lizzie’s condo. Hannah insisted on making them something to eat so he could clean himself up, and he jumped at the chance to put some space between them.
Ever since he’d gotten back to the isolation ward at the hospital, his dick had the distinct impression he and the lovely Dr. Fielding were going to get it on.
He remembered how he’d opened his arms to her, the softness of her body as she fitted herself against him and held on. He forced his thoughts away from her. If he wasn’t careful, that shower was going to be for nothing.
He thought of what he’d learned today.
He wished the phones were working so he could call his parents and tell them their daughter hadn’t killed herself, hadn’t wanted to leave this earth. It was small consolation but a consolation nonetheless, and they deserved to hear it as soon as possible.
Wrapping the towel around his hips, he headed for the bedroom.
The smell of something savory filled the hallway, the distinctive glow of candlelight illuminating the space.
There was a cozy feel of home, all of his needs being addressed, and again he thought of laying Hannah down and making love to her.
Was it possible she wanted the same thing? Was that why he couldn’t shake it?
He dressed and returned to the living room. Brady played with cards in front of a candle, Hannah on the balcony cooking. He sat down with the boy. “You know how to play War?”
They were halfway through the deck, Brady winning, when she came back inside. “I hope you don’t mind, I opened a bottle of wine,” she said. “Would you like some?”
“That would be great.”
She brought him a glass of red, the spicy woodsmoke flavor of the wine matching the ambiance in the room perfectly. They ate pasta with red sauce and played Go Fish, finishing the bottle of wine.
Noah couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed an evening more.
Hannah put Brady to bed, and he wondered if she would return, and what would happen if she did. Her eyes had danced all through dinner and the game, joking with him playfully every step of the way. She was flirting with him, and he was flirting back.
God, was he flirting back.
He paced the living room. The wine had made him relax, even made him think it was possible she would come to him tonight, and he hoped more than he ought to hope he was right.
When she entered the room, she met his stare.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
“I wasn’t sure I should. But I wanted to.”
He moved to her, every step a tactical decision in a game he wanted desperately to win. He stood in front of her, her head tilted up to face him, her cheeks flushed.
He kissed her, her lips soft and welcoming beneath his, slightly open. Blood rushed to his cock. She tasted like wine, with a lingering sweetness that made him think of dessert. She was perfect, meeting his kisses with her own, fitting her body against his growing hardness.
His fingers skated up her arm and into the hair at her nape. “I want to make love to you,” he said.
He didn’t think he could bear it if they weren’t on the same page, if she didn’t want the same depth of feeling from him that he needed from her. Better to get it all out there so she could strike him down in one fell swoop rather than make him believe she wanted him.
“Me, too.” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him, her hands settling on his shoulders like they’d been there a thousand times before.
He squeezed her and picked her up, carrying her to the sofa and setting her on his lap as he kissed her. She was softness and curves, her body rounded and satisfying beneath his eager hands. She shifted so she was straddling him, holding his cheeks in her hands before kissing him tenderly.
Provocatively.
Lustfully.
As she deepened the kiss, she moved against him, and they might have been making love already if they hadn’t been fully clothed.
He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her tightly to him as his mouth made its way down her neck.
She smelled like cinnamon and tasted like salt, the combination decadent and exciting.
He ran his hands inside her shirt and over the skin of her back, pressing his chin and mouth into the fullness of her breasts, kissing her through the fabric.
She lifted the hem and pulled the shirt over her head, exposing her bra, and he pulled one cup down beneath her nipple so he could see her. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered reverently, lapping at her nipple before sucking it into his mouth.
“Fuck,” she whispered, and he smiled, moving to the other breast and showing it the same attention.
Her hands fisted in the material of his shirt, pulling at it. “Take this off,” she said, helping him pull it over his head and kneading the muscles of his shoulders. “You’re so big and strong.” Her hips pitched on his, rocking back and forth. “Does this hurt your wound?”
“No. It’s lower.”
“Good. You’re so fucking hot,” she said against his mouth, then kissed him passionately.
He’d feared she wouldn’t share her body with him, yet she was riding him wildly, proudly squeezing his hand on her breast as she writhed against him. He was in awe of her sexuality, her brazen desperation to connect with him, and he wanted to take control of her like she was taking control of him.
In one strong movement he flipped her onto the couch, holding her against it as he settled between her legs with his full weight.
He took over their kisses, demanding she meet his rhythm and punishing her with his hips, loving the way she panted in his ear and threw her head back against the cushions.
“I need to get a condom out of the bedroom,” he ground out against her mouth. “I won’t wake Brady.”
“He’s in the guest room. I thought we might want the big bed tonight.”
He pulled her to a stand, loving her plan and eager to take her up on her offer. She followed him to the master bedroom, her hand wrapped tightly in his, and he turned on her when they got there, quickly unfastening her bra and stripping her of her pants and underwear.
She closed the door. “My turn.” She unzipped his fly and freed his throbbing cock, which instantly grew bigger, begging for her touch. She pushed him back on the bed and followed him down, taking his length in her hand and nuzzling his balls with her face, her warm breath on his ball sac.
“Oh, God,” he bit out, anticipating her hot, wet mouth on him before she took him in, licking and sucking until he was almost completely inside.
His hand slipped into her hair, holding her to him, and she took the last two inches of his cock, the head of it now firmly nestled in her throat, suction nearly making him come undone.
She lifted her head. “Where are the condoms?”
“The nightstand drawer.”
She took one out and sheathed him, then climbed on top and guided him into her body. She sank down slowly, crying out as his length disappeared inside her, rocking onto his cock.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Just like that.”
She moved on him, arching her back. He grabbed her breasts in his eager hands, loving the feel of her body milking his with every stroke.
He needed to make it as good for her as she was for him, needed to fuck her hard and fast, get as deep inside her as he could be when she came tightly around him.
He flipped her on the bed, forcing her body to accommodate his size, the pulsating walls of her tight channel telling him she was already on her way to orgasm. Her body clenched his cock again and again, her hips angling up to meet his, and she cried out.
He kept thrusting against her fisted muscles, his body beyond stopping the orgasm, his balls lifting higher as he came with a mighty roar. He fell on top of her and rolled onto his back, taking her with him, their bodies still intimately joined and their breathing coming in heavy pants.
His fingers lightly stroked her heated back, a thin film of sweat making his skin drag against hers. He kissed the top of her head.
Hannah.
The sensible part of his brain knew their time together was limited, that this relationship that had started at gunpoint would never survive once the hurricane moved out and life on Hilton Head returned to normal.
But another part of him clutched at her, not wanting to listen.
Tonight he’d gotten a glimpse of what their life together could look like and he didn’t want to give it back, didn’t want to give it up before it ever really got started.
His mind was drifting, fatigue pulling at him. He could see Brady’s face lighting up as they played cards, knew there was an answering smile on his own features. He didn’t want to give it up. Not the woman, not the family or the warm glow that had covered him up tonight like the warmest blanket.
What are you saying?
She sighed contentedly and kissed his chest, snuggling closer.
Even if he wanted to stay with her, he’d killed a police officer. His very freedom was in jeopardy, the choice to stay or go completely out of his hands. All he could do was make the most out of the time they had together.
He moved his head, rubbing his cheek against her hair. He could smell her shampoo, and he grinned at the familiar scent. This time with her was precious, and he wouldn’t waste a moment of it worrying over what was to come.
He fell into a deep, sated sleep.