She moved to the edge of the bed. Her fingers were trembling when she reached out to touch one of the long, red scars. “You nearly died because of me.”
For you. There was a difference, but he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear that yet. “Protecting you was my job.”
There were tears in her eyes. Tears. He didn’t like to see her beautiful eyes filled with tears. He wanted to see the desire again. The need for him. Not tears.
“We should be careful,” she whispered, “We should—”
His lips took hers, and he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t controlled. He had the one thing he wanted most, and he wasn’t about to let go.
Or waste a moment being careful.
He tumbled her back on the bed. Caught her hands in one of his and pinned them above her head. Then his free hand went down and pushed up her skirt. All day, he’d known that she wasn’t wearing panties. Those torn panties had been safely secured in his drawer, and she’d been bare.
He touched her silken flesh now. Pushed his fingers into her sex even as he kissed her. She was wet for him. Wet and ready and there was no going back for him.
“Don’t move,” Saxon ordered her.
Her breath seemed to catch.
He lifted up, and he didn’t bother unbuttoning her shirt—he just yanked it open. Buttons flew, and he didn’t care. He’d buy her another blouse, maybe one that matched her ripped panties. An emerald color to go with her eyes? Buy her anything. Everything.
The sexy black bra she wore was pure temptation. It lifted her br**sts up toward him, an offering that he’d never refuse. He kissed her through that lace, then he shoved the bra out of his way and took her nipple into his mouth.
“Saxon!”
He sucked her harder. Scored her with his teeth.
And he parted her legs. He positioned his c**k at the entrance of her body. She was so incredibly soft and hot and when he thrust into her, Saxon nearly lost his mind.
He angled his body down, making sure that every thrust of his h*ps pushed him against her clit. She moaned for him and twisted beneath him. Saxon licked her other breast. Her nipple was tight and hard. So very perfect.
He withdrew. Thrust deeper.
He had her underneath him in that four-poster bed. He was in her so deep and her sex was a tight glove. She was whispering his name, her nails were digging in his back.
There were no fears. No hesitations. No questions.
Just a white-hot desire that burned right through everything else.
She came for him. He felt the ripples of her release all around his c**k even as she arched up against him and gasped out his name.
Then he let go. He drove into her again and again. The bed thudded into the wall, the frame seemed to shake beneath them, and he didn’t care. He didn’t give a f**k about anything—
But, well, f**king her.
Deeper, harder. The desire consumed him. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. He could only feel her and when the cl**ax hit him, Saxon was lost. The pleasure beat through him, so powerful and consuming that nothing else mattered. He held on to her as tightly as he could.
And when the pleasure finally ebbed, when the aftershocks stopped running through their bodies, he finished stripping. He tucked her under the covers and then slid in the bed beside her.
He’d slept in countless hotels, dozens of apartments, hell, he’d even slept on the street—both before and during his undercover days.
But as his eyes drifted closed right then, as Elizabeth curled her body around his, this time—this bed—this place—it was the first time that he’d ever felt as if he were sleeping…at home.
***
Victor had spent years cultivating contacts—some on the right side of the law and some on the wrong. So when he needed intel on a dead prisoner, he got that intel. And when he needed to learn more about a missing woman…he had full access to her records.
So just hours after he left the prison, he knew that Zoe Peters was a twenty-seven-year-old, ex-Vegas showgirl who’d packed up all her belongings and moved to a little town in South Carolina—a place called Bluff. Only a few weeks after moving to the town, she’d vanished.
And a day later, well, that was the day that Titus Rowe had been killed by Luther Bates. Shanked in the shower—not a particularly glamorous way to go, but one that had surely involved plenty of gore. From all accounts, Luther had nearly severed the man’s head.
For Luther to make such a personal move, to kill with plenty of witnesses around—well, obviously, he’d wanted to send a message.
A message that was linked to Rowe?
Because, once upon a time, Rowe and Luther Bates had worked together. Rowe set up a few explosions for Luther. Rowe had a dark and dangerous skill when it came to bomb-making, and, apparently, he’d been all too eager to make buildings explode for the right money.
Victor’s detective work had revealed that Rowe had one child, a son who owned property just outside of Charleston, South Carolina. Now, as fate would have it, Charleston and Bluff were only two hours away from each other.
Coincidence?
Hell, no. Victor sure didn’t think so.
And that was why he was currently headed to Charleston…hopefully to find Rowe’s son Hugh and to recover the missing show girl.
Then maybe, finally, he could get some f**king peace. I’ll have peace, once that hit is off Elizabeth’s head.
***
Gary Warren sat hunched in the interrogation room chair. He still hurt, dammit, and he could sure have used more drugs from those docs. But instead of getting some sweet oblivion from pain meds, they had him stuck in this place. Those bastards were just keeping him waiting. He’d demanded to see Victor so long ago—hours ago! And the prick hadn’t shown. This shit wasn’t going to work for him.
And neither is jail. I can’t spend my days locked in solitaire. And I sure as hell don’t plan to be in general population.
So Victor needed to get his sorry ass in there and start working a deal.
The door opened.
Gary looked up, glaring. “Finally!” he snarled.
Tracy smiled at him.
He stiffened. “Where’s Victor?”
Tracy shut the door. Leaned back against it. “He didn’t tell me where he was going. The guy just left me at a prison and took off for who the hell knows where.” She shook her head. “You know Victor. He’s not exactly the sharing type. Not so trusting, you know.” One eyebrow lifted. “Probably because guys like you keep betraying him.”