Page 145 of Mission Shift

She wiggled her hips back against me, and I groaned, half-laughing. “Careful,” I murmured into her hair. “You poke the bear, you might get attacked.”

She let out a tiny huff. “I’m not afraid of cuddly teddy bears.”

My hand drifted lower, tracing slow, teasing circles just below her ribs, before moving down over her hip. I skimmed the edge of her thigh, never going quite where I knew she wanted me.

She shifted again, slower this time. Then her knee lifted, her hand found mine, and she placed it between her legs.

“Bossy,” I whispered, grinning against her shoulder.

“You like it,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“Oh, I do.” I curled my fingers exactly where she wanted them, her heat already pulling me under her spell. “Happy wife, happy life. Whatever my beautiful wife wants…”

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a purr.

I worked methodically, drawing tight circles around her clit with my fingertips, then dipped lower. She was soaked. My cock throbbed against her, already pulsing with need. I slid one finger inside her, then another, curling until she pressed back into me.

I didn’t need any more invitation.

I pulled her hips toward me, lined myself up, and slid deep inside her.

Her breath hitched. Mine stopped altogether.

She was so damn perfect.

I moved slowly at first, keeping her held flush to me, with my hand splayed across her lower belly as I rocked in and out. Then I found her clit again and started stroking in time with my thrusts. Her moans filled the space between us—soft, desperate sounds that made it almost impossible to hold back.

“Braxton…” she gasped, her fingers clutching the sheet.

“Come for me,” I growled against her shoulder. “I want to feel you lose it.”

And she did.

With her body locked around me, she cried out into the pillow and shattered in my arms. I barely held on long enough to register her pulsing heat squeezing around me and her body trembling before I was gone too. Buried deep, I poured everything I had into her with a groan that came from someplace I hadn’t even known existed.

We lay there for a few heartbeats, breathless and tangled, her body still twitching in the aftershocks.

I pressed a kiss to her neck. “Maybe you oughta rethink that divorce,” I murmured with my lips against her skin. “Could be worth staying married after all.”

She let out a slow breath, then turned her head just enough to glance at me. “I should probably wait until I meet my husband’s family first.”

That did something to me.

“Husband,” I repeated. “You say that again and we’re not leaving this bed for the rest of the damn day.”

“Then I won’t say it again,” she said, stretching. “Because I’m starving.”

She slid away, twisted to face me, and gave me a few soft kisses—sweet and unhurried—before rolling off the bed and padding to the bathroom.

I watched her go, a grin tugging at my lips. “God, I love a woman with a good appetite.”

She laughed, and just like that, the morning kept getting better.

I rolled out of bed and followed her to grab my clothes off the bathroom floor, then headed for the cabin door. I wasn’t going to bother dressing just to walk down the hallway to change.

“Seriously?” she said, cracking up as she peeked out of the bathroom. “You’re just gonna strut out of here like that? No shame?”

I shrugged. “What’s the point? My room is just a few yards down the hallway.”

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