Page 53 of The Vigilant

When he stopped, my ass was bright cherry red, and we were both panting.

“I know who took her, too,” he rasped between breaths, his fingertips skating over the tenderized flesh.

He knew…my throat tightened. If I had trusted him…had waited just a little longer…

“Who?” I shivered, goose bumps racing up my spine as he slid one finger gently along the seam of my ass.

“What else would you have done?” he rumbled low, ignoring my question as he probed, sliding his finger back down the crease toward my slick thighs. “Photos? Video? What would you have done for him to find her?”

I waited until his eyes found mine in the mirror and then answered far too steadily for it to be anything other than the truth.

“Anything.” I would’ve done anything to find Mara—anything to save my friend. And then I would’ve done a whole host of other things in retribution.

His shoulders slumped a little as though my answer was like a blade into his side, revealing a fault in him rather than one of mine.

“Anything except trust me.”

We played this dangerous game where we sought pleasure under pretend punishment. So, as he pulled his hand back, I arched my back deeper, his palm landing squarely on my pussy with a wet slap.

He knew what I was going to do just as surely as I knew he’d compensate, hitting my tender flesh with less force than if it had been on the meat of my ass.

“What are you doing?” he growled, making no attempt to move his hand.

I let out a quick breath, and the words were out before I could stop them. The truth rushing free before fear could hold it back.

“Trusting you.”

Suddenly, the energy in the room shifted. My punishment had tilled the tension between us, leaving it open and fertile for desire and tenderness to take root.

Tynan’s big body shuddered, and then his fingers threaded through my thighs to cup the whole of my sex. I shuddered, my jaw going slack with a soundless moan. I’d never felt so small, so vulnerable yet so safe before.

My eyelids fluttered shut, all my focus centered on the friction of his hand against me.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and I felt how he wanted to pull himself away but couldn’t. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” His hand grew slick as he ground the meat of his palm against my sex, the pressure on my clit shooting fireworks through my limbs.

“Please, Tynan. Please—” I broke off with a strangled cry when his hand disappeared, a rush of cold air replacing where the warmth of his big fingers had been.

“Fuck,” he swore, and I blinked my eyes open to see him staring down at his soaked palm. Half of him looked like he wanted to lick the whole thing clean, and the other half wantingto wipe all traces of me off so he could forget tempting himself with something so forbidden.

“Tynan.” My tongue shivered his name.

“Enough, Sutton,” he croaked, a thousand cracks appearing in his former stony appearance.

“Please,” I murmured, the word feeling more vulnerable than anything else I’d said—done—in his presence.

I’d never begged a man for anything, not since I’d learned how carelessly they were willing to take. But for Tynan Bates, I’d get on my knees.

“I…we…” He let out a short breath. “Fuck.” His knee slid from its post, and I didn’t realize how unstable and untethered the world felt without it. Without him.

“Please, Tynan.” I watched the struggle play out over his beautiful face. The blanched knuckles of his fist. The sharp focus of his stare.

And then his hand replaced his knee. His palm flat on the small of my back, hotter than any brand known to man, searing beyond the layer of my skins all the way to my bones. My soul.

His fingers began a reverent path over my back, tracing the artwork that had taken hours upon hours to complete.

I let out a whimper and pressed my hips down into the bed, needing some kind of friction to ease the ache he’d started.

Thwack.

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