Page 53 of Penn

To my surprise, he laughs and it sounds like genuine amusement. “Mila, you’ve been one cloud of stress since the day I met you. But we’re going to change that.”

I should be offended, but a slight heat in his eyes accompanies his words, and I know the stress he’s endured seems to have been worth it.

Malik coughs and we both turn his way. “We’ve already got agents en route to interview all four of the guys—Jace, Peter, Ryan and Colton,” Malik continues. “We’re digging deep into their digital history. Hopefully, they’re willing to talk to us.”

“If they don’t, isn’t that sort of an indication of guilt?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Malik says with a shrug. “We’re also chasing down their whereabouts for the last ninety days, as well as known associates. Bebe’s making progress on tracking the burner phones. She’s found a few anomalies worth following.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” I murmur.

“More than everything. In fact, Bebe is trying to access Peter’s prison communications so we can see who he’s been in contact with.”

“Damn,” I exclaim with appreciation. “You have great contacts.”

Malik’s eyes flash with mischief. “Not always. In this instance, let me just say that Bebe has ways of getting information.”

I exhale shakily. “And you’ll let us know if anything breaks?”

“Immediately.” Malik offers a reassuring smile, then his gaze shifts between us. “Get some rest. We’ve got eyes on you, and we’re just getting started.” He turns to Penn. “I’ll let you know who will be with you on the road trip by day’s end.”

The men shake hands, Malik gives me one more reassuring nod and disappears through the front door, leaving behind a house now wired and fortified and two people who suddenly feel… very alone in the almost deafening silence.

Penn doesn’t move. Neither do I.

“Thank you for doing…” I wave my hands. “All of this. I feel like I can breathe again.”

He stares at me, his expression fierce and possessive. “I thought they’d never fucking leave.”

I blink at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Because all I’ve been able to think about since we walked in the door is kissing you.”

“Oh,” I sigh out in surprise, but before I can process what he just said, he’s on me.

His body, his mouth, his heat—it all barrels into me in one smooth, overwhelming move and I am utterly lost in it.

His mouth captures mine in a bruising kiss that scrambles my brains. His hands lock onto my hips, fingers digging in as if grounding himself—or claiming me. I fumble for his shirt, clutching the fabric in desperation, trying to anchor myself. He grabs at the collar of my sweater, pulls it to the side as his mouth moves to my throat, then lower to the curve of my shoulder.

Warm palms slide under the knit material, gliding along the bare skin of my back and his mouth returns to mine, moving with sinful precision, taking what he wants and giving back tenfold. I’m spinning from how fast this went from talking to devouring, unable to get my balance emotionally… physically… and yet I’m somehow fulfilled by the instability of it all.

I’m panting by the time his hand slides into the front of my pants, cupping me through my underwear. My hips buck, a motion I can’t control, and a startled moan warbles out of my throat. I arch into the contact, my head falling back and hitting the refrigerator. I barely notice because his fingers slide beneath the silk of my panties, parting me, teasing through slick heat with unrelenting skill.

“Penn,” I gasp, clutching his shoulders now because my legs are about to give way. “What are you doing?”

“Taking,” he murmurs, lips feathering along my jaw as he slides a finger deep inside me.

My walls clench around him involuntarily, welcoming the intrusion, and my legs tremble. When a second finger joins the first, the stretch makes me gasp, and the rhythmic thrust he starts steals any coherent thought I have left. His thumb presses and circles, coaxing pleasure to the surface with merciless intent.

“Feel good?” he asks in a low rumble.

I can only nod, more moans and gasps pouring out of me without any control.

I grip Penn’s shoulders so hard he actually flinches from my nails digging in, but he doesn’t miss a stroke. On the contrary, he adds more pressure, more movement, drawing me toward an edge I’m not ready for and yet desperate to reach. His fingers move faster, firmer, keeping me on the cusp, holding my body hostage so that I’m on the verge of begging him.

And then… release. It crashes through me without warning, a violent, full-body eruption that steals the air from my lungs and leaves me sagging against him.

I barely register his hand withdrawing. I can’t even comprehend the fact I’m being lifted, carried down the hall in strong arms. I’m lightheaded, disoriented, tingling still between my legs.

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