Page 67 of ILY
I can see the bliss on his face, the absolute pleasure. I fuck him like he means something, like he’s the last thing on Earth I want to touch. Because he does. And he is.
Our bodies rock together, the slap of our skin something even my ears can hear.
And then I feel it, the clench of his ass around me, the jolt of his body as he empties himself against his skin.
I stare at it, the way his cock erupts untouched, and I follow him over, my own release pulsing into him.
Marking him.
I fall against him, my body still inside his. His legs come down around my back, his ankles hooking together, and his hands start rubbing up and down my back.
The comfort there, the care, is almost overwhelming. It’s been so long since I’ve done this with anyone, and it’s never been this intimate. Not even in my younger years when I thought I was in love.
I press my lips to his neck and just inhale him.
“So good,” I hear him. It’s faint, but it’s enough.
And he’s not wrong. Itwasgood. I’m already a little thick at the thought of doing it again.
But instead of pushing back inside him, I roll off him and stare up at the ceiling. He does the same, our bodies trying to recuperate what little strength we have.
Our heads turn toward one another, and our eyes meet.
“I’m obsessed with you,” he says. He signs it too, just so he knows that I can see it and can understand.
I hold on to those words, tucking them inside the space behind my heart.
“Same” is all I can say, my hand moving up to sign it before falling between us.
He must know how tired and utterly wrecked I am, because instead of demanding more, he links his hand with mine, and we drift off.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THORNE
I leavethe house with the ghost of Leaf’s kisses on my lips and an ache in my back from how…athletic we’ve been. It feels strange to get in my car and drive away. Spending a few days under Leaf’s very sexy, very intense tender, loving care has distracted me from real life.
But the fact remains: I’m still an active agent. I’m still technically working on a case I’m not supposed to be on. I’m away from my desk, and I have a handful of queries out there that need answers.
Leaf is not a sociopathic murderer with a man hidden in his basement, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s something about his place I’m missing.
Before I left, I made sure to scribble a note to him and left it next to his phone, promising to be back as soon as I can. The drive back to my rental is long, but it gives me time to think.
I want to go out on a bang, not a whimper. I still want my years of service to have meant something. I have options—I’m still young enough that I don’t need to give up. But I don’t want this to be a blip in my past.
Being in law enforcement is hard enough. I want to prove at least one of us can do something good for the world.
Heading into the rental, I check my work phone and see a handful of texts. It’s saying something that no one has asked where I am or why I haven’t come in. They’re probably relieved they don’t have to repeat themselves a hundred times or make sure they’re facing me when they speak.
That leaves a heavy stone in my gut, but I ignore it as I fire up my computer and sink into the chair.
There are several emails waiting for me—mostly bullshit paperwork, but then I see the one I’ve been looking for.
The subject is in reply to the one I’d sent with Leaf’s address.
Logasson,
Sorry this took me so long, but I have the info you asked for. The address was investigated three times—once in ’82, once in ’91, and once in ’93. There were several missing persons who had been last seen near or on the property, but nothing came of it. There was a warrant issued in ’82 to search the cellar and then another one in ’91 to search the grounds but nothing turned up. The last missing person associated with the property disappeared in ’95 and nothing since then. Let me know if I can do anything else for you.
