Page 22 of Undercover Shadow
“Okay?” I managed to ask when her eyes met mine.
“More than okay. Is it always—does it always feel like this?” The wonder I heard in her voice made me want to roar.
“No,” I admitted. “It’s never been like this.”
And it hadn’t. During all my controlled encounters, brief liaisons that never lasted past dawn, it had never felt like…coming home. Like completion. Like finding something I hadn’t known I was missing.
She was silk and fire wrapped around me, her body slowly accepting mine. The sensation was overwhelming—not just physical, though that alone threatened to undo me—but the emotional weight of it. This meant something. This changed everything, even if I couldn’t let it.
She moved against me experimentally, and I nearly lost all control. “Please, Tag. I need?—”
I started slow, pulling out slightly before pressing forward again. Each movement was deliberate as I fought every instinct that demanded I take her harder and faster.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” I said against her mouth.
“It’s not enough,” she gasped, her hips lifting to meet mine. “More, Tag. Please.”
I shifted the angle, and she cried out.
“There,” she moaned. “Right there.”
Soon, she moved with me as her initial tension was replaced by growing pleasure. Her soft gasps turned to moans that I swallowed with kisses. The heat between us built, our bodies slick with sweat despite the cold air. The fire crackled beside us, but I barely heard it over the sound of her breathing, the small sounds she made, and the way she said my name like a prayer.
I reached between us, finding her sensitive bundle of nerves, and circled it with my thumb. She keened and arched off the bed.
“That’s it,” I encouraged. “Let go, love.”
“Tag,” she said my name over and over. “Oh God, Tag?—”
When she came apart beneath me, my name on her lips, her body clenching around me, pulsing and tight and perfect, I followed her over the edge, pulling out before I came, at the last possible second, finishing on her stomach with a groan that came from somewhere deep in my chest, wishing so hard that I could stay buried in the woman I’d tried so hard not to love.
For several seconds, neither of us moved. I was braced above her, both of us breathing hard as the reality of what we’d done settled over us like a blanket.
“Stay here,” I said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling away. Guilt twisted in my gut when she winced, and I grabbed my discarded shirt to gently clean her stomach, then her thighs, noting the small amount of blood with a fresh wave of protective fury.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice rougher than intended.
“No,” she said, reaching for me.
“Let me—” I began, but she pulled me down beside her.
“I’m fine, Tag. Better than fine.” She smiled, and it transformed her face. “That was…”
“Yeah,” I agreed, because there were no words adequate for what we’d experienced together.
Sweat cooled on our skin as we both fought to catch our breath. I pulled more of the heavy blankets over us, cocooning us in our own world.
She curled into my side, and her head found the spot on my chest that seemed made for her. Her fingers traced lazy patterns through the hair there.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
“No regrets,” she finally said, so quiet I almost missed it. “This is my choice. My memory to keep. Whatever happens when we leave here, I’ll have this.”
I understood what she was doing—protecting herself already, building walls against the inevitable pain, preparing for the end before we’d even had a middle. My arms tightened around her involuntarily, as if I could keep her through sheer force of will.
“Leila—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t tell me pretty lies to make me feel better. Let me have this. It’s enough.”
