Chapter 32 #2
“You couldn’t have stopped Sullivan.” He had to know this was not his fault. None of what happened was. It was all on that jerk who thought they could play with their lives and not get caught.
“I know.” This time there was no hesitation, and her breath hitched when he looked back at her. “I know.”
There it was. The thing she had been waiting for without realizing it. Not her telling him. Him believing it.
She rose onto her toes and kissed him. There was no warning, no teasing lead-in, and no room left between them for anything except the overwhelming need that hit her when his mouth met hers.
Tyrone made a rough sound against her lips, one arm locking around her waist while his other hand slid into her hair, and the kiss changed almost immediately from comfort into something hotter.
Glenna wanted that, too. Wanted him. Wanted to feel something other than grief and fear and relief complicated by everything they'd lost to get here. She curled both hands around the back of his neck and kissed him harder.
Tyrone broke away barely far enough to breathe. “Glens.”
“What?”
“You sure?”
The question shouldn’t have affected her after everything they’d already shared, but it did anyway. She looked into his eyes. “Completely.”
Something in his expression changed. “Good.”
His mouth came back to hers. This time there was no restraint beyond the care he always gave her, and Glenna let herself disappear into the feel of him.
His hands traveled over her back and waist, pulling her closer while she worked at the buttons of his shirt with fingers suddenly less coordinated than they had any right to be. The damn things refused to cooperate.
Tyrone laughed into her mouth. “Need help?”
“I will rip this freaking shirt off you.”
“Pretty sure it’s expensive.”
“I don’t care.” She bit his lower lip, and his laugh turned into a groan. “Problem?”
“You're gonna pay for that.”
“Promises, promises.”
He caught her wrists gently, waited until she looked at him, and then finished the buttons himself while Glenna stared at the chest she’d been trying to uncover and wondered why watching a man take off his own shirt had suddenly become the hottest thing she'd seen all day.
Possibly the champagne hasn’t completely worn off.
He shrugged the shirt away, and she flattened both hands against his chest before leaning in to kiss the scar near his shoulder.
His breath changed. There were pieces of his life she might never completely know because some things belonged to men, missions, and years that existed before her. That didn’t frighten her anymore. She wasn’t trying to own his past. She wanted their future.
Tyrone tipped her chin up. “You’re thinking.”
“It’s a dangerous habit I picked up from you.”
“Very.”
She smiled.
His thumb traced her lower lip. “What?”
Glenna looked at him. There were moments when a woman knew she could hide behind humor and moments when doing it would turn cowardice into habit.
This wasn’t the time for hiding. “You told me to tell you something tonight.” Tyrone stopped moving.
Every bit of heat between them remained, but something deeper pushed through it.
She touched his face. “Do you remember?”
“Every fucking word.”
Her heart hammered. “Good.” She took a breath that felt much bigger than it should have. “I love you, Tyrone.”
Tyrone closed his eyes. For one terrifying second he didn’t say anything. Then he caught her around the waist and pulled her into him so quickly she gasped. “Say it again.”
She laughed against his mouth. “Bossy.”
“Glenna.”
“I love you.”
His forehead pressed to hers. “I love you, too.”
The words slammed straight through her. She hadn’t expected them to hurt in that wonderful, impossible way happiness hurt when a person had gone too long believing she wasn’t going to get any love. “Took you long enough.”
Tyrone opened his eyes. “Woman, you texted me for the first time while I was about to confront the man who got my brother killed.”
“Excuses.”
“I refused to give you our first I-love-you in a fucking text message.”
“Very romantic.”
“Damn right.”
She laughed, and he kissed her again before the sound finished.
The next few minutes dissolved into mouths, hands, clothes, and the soft sounds neither of them bothered trying to suppress because there wasn’t a six-year-old sleeping on the other side of the room, and nobody in the entire fucking hotel had any reason to care what they did behind a locked door.
Tyrone lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as naturally as breathing, laughing when he nearly walked into the edge of the chair because apparently, emotional breakthroughs had damaged his spatial awareness.
“Smooth.”
“Shut up.”
“Elite Operator, my ass.”
“Mercenary.” His hands flexed on her butt, “and it’s a mighty fine ass.”
“Whatever.”
He deposited her onto the bed with considerably more care than his muttered insults suggested and followed her down, bracing himself above her while Glenna pulled him close again. His face changed when the humor faded, the intensity in his eyes sending heat through her from head to toe.
“I need you to know something.”
She touched his cheek. “What?”
“This isn’t because today fucked with my head.”
“I know.”
“I’m not using you to forget him.”
“I know.”
“Glens.”
She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him closer. “I know who you are, Tyrone.” His eyes searched hers, and she smiled up at him. “And I know who Dwight was.” Her thumb moved over his skin. “Loving you doesn't erase him. Same as you loving Kelsey doesn’t erase her dad.”
A shuddering breath left him, and even though the last wall she could feel he kept around himself wasn’t completely gone, it was finally cracked enough to let them through. His weight pressed her into the mattress, yet his eyes held a vulnerability that stole her breath.
“I know who you are.” She traced the line of his jaw.
His exhale shuddered against her skin. “Glens?—"
She silenced him with a kiss, pouring every ounce of understanding into it.
His restraint dissolved. One hand fisted in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss while the other slid down her spine, pressing her impossibly closer. The thin silk of her dress felt like tissue paper against the heat of his palm.
He broke away, his breathing ragged. “This dress is a goddamn crime.”
“Too much?”
“Not enough.” His knuckles brushed the side of her breast, the touch deliberate, testing. “Paid too much for it to rip.”
“Then take it off carefully.”
His fingers found the zipper at her side. The rasp of metal teeth parting echoed in the quiet room. Cool air kissed her skin as the fabric fell open. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his gaze raking over her. “Jesus.”
She arched into his stare, heat pooling low in her belly. “See something you like?”
“Everything.” He peeled the dress from her shoulders, down her arms, his touch leaving trails of fire. When the silk pooled at her waist, he paused. His thumb brushed the lace edge of her bra, tracing the swell of her breast. “This too?”
“Everything,” she echoed, her voice husky.
He unhooked the bra with practiced ease.
The cool air tightened her nipples instantly.
His groan was raw and deep. “Fuck, Glenna.” He bent, taking one nipple into his mouth through the lace.
The hot, wet suction drew a gasp from her.
His tongue circled the hardened bud, teasing, before he bit down gently.
Pleasure sparked, that radiated down to her toes.
She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him there. “Ty?—”
“Tell me.” His mouth moved to her other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first. He pinched the nipple lightly, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” She writhed under him, the friction of his jeans against her bare thighs deliciously rough. “Just you. Now.”
He chuckled, the vibration against her skin making her shudder.
“Bossy.” But he obeyed, stripping the dress and bra away completely.
His gaze burned over her nakedness. “Perfect.” He leaned down, kissing a path from her collarbone to her navel.
His hands slid her panties down her legs, tossing them aside. “Spread for me.”
The command was low and rough, and sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She opened her legs, bracing her feet on the mattress. His eyes darkened as he took her in. One finger traced her slick folds. “I fucking love that you are soaked already.”
“For you.” She lifted her hips, seeking pressure. “Always for you.”
He rewarded her with a slow, deliberate stroke. One finger, then two, sliding deep as her back arched off the bed. “God?—”
“Look at me.” His voice was rough. She forced her eyes open, meeting his intense stare as his fingers curled inside her, finding that sweet spot. Pleasure coiled tight, threatening to snap. “That’s it. Come for me.”
She shattered with a cry, her body clenching around his fingers.
He watched her fall apart, his expression fierce with satisfaction.
Before the tremors subsided, he withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal, and brought them to his mouth.
He sucked them clean, while keeping his eyes locked on hers. The sight was obscenely erotic.
He unbuckled his belt, the clink of metal loud in the stillness, and shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough to free himself.
He was thick, hard, the head flushed and leaking as he fished a condom out of his wallet.
He fisted himself once, a rough stroke that made his jaw tighten. “Still sure?”
“Stop asking.” She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his length. He hissed, his hips jerking forward. “Need you inside me. Now.”
He covered her hand with his, guiding her stroke. “Like this.”
“Harder.” She tightened her grip, pumping him slowly, reveling in the velvet-over-steel feel, the way his breath hitched. “Show me how much you want me.”