Page 177 of Things We Hide from the Light
“So fucking tight,” he muttered against my breast. “Have to fight my way in every damn time.”
“Nash.” It was a broken whimper as my walls clamped down on him as he thrust home.
“Give it up, baby. Give it to me.” The cords on his neck stood out. His jaw was locked, nostrils flaring as he fought his way through my orgasm.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. I couldn’t do anything butfeel.
I needed to win. Needed to take him over the edge. With the echoes of my own release still trembling through my core, I bore down on him.
“Damn it, Angelina,” he snarled.
Sweat slicked my skin and his. His eyes were wild as my thighs gripped him harder, his fingers digging into my hips. He knew what I was doing and let me have my way. I rode hard, making my muscles burn. Then suddenly Nash curled into a sit-up, and with a look of agonized ecstasy, he went rigid under me.
I felt him come, felt the first hot spurt of his orgasm deep within me. It was endless. Inevitable. Perfect.
We both collapsed, my head resting on his shoulder, his fingers now gentle as they stroked my hair.
This wasn’t what I’d been looking for. This wasn’t what I’d thought I’d needed. But the body didn’t lie. I wasn’t capable of feeling this kind of connection to a man if there wasn’t something essential, elemental there to build on.
“Let’s have all our fights like this,” Nash panted.
“Neither one of us will be able to walk after a week,” I predicted.
“Thank you,” he said after a long beat of silence.
“For what?” I asked, shifting to look up at him.
“For taking a chance on me. For being with me now. We can worry about after later.”
“After?” I repeated, stroking my hand over his chest.
“Do we have a deal?” he prodded.
The man was still inside me.
“Fine. Deal.”
“High-five?” he offered, grinning.
THIRTY-SEVEN
A HOLE IN THE WALL
Nash
Istrolled into the station with a spring in my step and a dozen chocolate éclairs. Piper trotted along next to me, her new favorite toy—one of Lina’s socks—clamped in her teeth.
I had my own souvenirs. Shallow scratch marks lined my back like tiger stripes. And there was the tiny, purple love bite that was mostly hidden by the collar of my shirt.
“Mornin’…Chief?” Bertle’s greeting sounded more like a question.
“Mornin’,” I returned. I slid the bakery box onto the counter next to the coffee maker.
Piper started her customary sniffing lap around the bullpen.
“Did you do something with your…face?” Tashi asked, looking concerned.
I ran a hand over my now smooth jaw. “I shaved. Why?”
