Page 52 of Broken Trust
Only then did he give in to the pleasure pounding at his core. In harsh jerks, he gripped her tight and rode the sensation until he collapsed over her, breathing in the scent of their mingled bodies.
When they were tangled together, panting, she traced absent patterns across his chest. He laced their fingers together, bringing them to rest over his heart. Maybe this was what people meant when they talked about finding home.
He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just maybe, he didn’t need to be good with words after all.
Not when he could show her instead. Every day. For as long as she’d let him.
He hoped that was forever.
* * * * *
Elin woke to cold sheets and an empty bed.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling of Liam’s room, listening for sounds in the attached bathroom. Water running. Footsteps. Anything.
Nothing.
Of course. He was probably already in the gym or wherever SEALs went at oh-dark-thirty for whatever hypermasculine bonding ritual they had.
She checked her phone. She’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, and her body ached in ways that made her flush even now.
His room was military-neat except for their clothes from last night, which made a trail from door to bed like breadcrumbs in a forest.
Only this wasn’t a fairy tale.
This was a friends-with-benefits situation, or whatever you called it when you fell into bed with a man who made you forget your own name but never dropped a word about his feelings.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and raked her fingers through her tousled hair.
She knew what this was going into it. Liam was the strong, silent, and emotionally unavailable type. The type who showed her heaven with his hands and mouth and then failed to acknowledge that it meant anything.
Knowing it didn’t make her feel better. No, it left her chest tight and her fists curling with the need to punch something.
Preferably Liam’s rugged, chiseled jaw. Or maybe his perfectly godlike nose. But then she’d break her hand and that would keep her from doing her job.
She gathered her clothes and dressed quickly. Slipping out of his room, she looked around, hoping she didn’t run into anybody. Luckily, the mansion was quiet at this hour.
She made it to her own room without encountering anyone. While she showered away the evidence of their passion, she tried very hard not to replay every moment in vivid detail.
And she failed spectacularly.
By the time she made it downstairs to the kitchen, she’d given herself a firm talking-to. Keep things professional. If they had to speak, she’d keep it casual. She could do this.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon. Alyssa sat at the large table, looking pale and picking at a piece of dry toast. Sophie was at the stove, and May poured orange juice into glasses with the focused intensity of someone trying to act normal.
“Good morning.” Elin headed straight for the coffeepot.
“Hey.” Sophie glanced over her shoulder. “You look tired.”
“I was up late working.” Not technically a lie. She had been working.Before.
“Mmm.” Sophie’s tone suggested she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t push. “Hungry?”
“Starving, actually.” Also not a lie. She was guilty of ignoring her need for regular meals in favor of the thrill of finding the bomb handlers.
She poured coffee and added cream. Slipping into a seat at the table, she addressed the tension pulsing in the room.
What’s going on?” Elin pitched her voice low.
