Page 87 of Lars

“But – ”

“Shhh,” she whispered as she caressed my beard. “Don’t worry. He paid for it.”

“Did you kill him?” I asked angrily, hoping she would say ‘yes.’

“Let’s just say he won’t hurt anybody else ever again,” she murmured, then kissed me.

I’m not going to lie: the casualness with which she said it was a tiny bit unnerving.

But…

It was also kind of hot.

What a fucking woman…

47

Rachel

His worry for me was sweet.

It was also a little condescending – like he thought I couldn’t handle myself. Like the clusterfuck on the rooftops in Kabul was what always happened on my missions.

But I chose to ignore that and instead focus on what I saw in his eyes:

Fiery protectiveness…

And deep concern.

He really, truly cared about me.

When I realized that, I misted up a little.

Then his concern started to get in the way of our fun.

For the first few minutes of sex, he treated me gingerly, like he was afraid I might break. There was no need; the bruises barely hurt anymore. Besides, I was used to much worse.

“Lars, I’m not a porcelain doll,” I finally said in a deadpan voice. “Fuck me, for God’s sake.”

He grinned – and fully obliged.

Half an hour and several mind-blowing orgasms later, I lay in his arms, spent. “I am so glad you’re finally here…”

He chuckled. “I am, too.”

I bent my arm and propped up my head on my hand so I could look at him better. “Anything you’d like to do while you’re here in London?”

“You.”

I laughed. “Besides me.”

“I don’t think we’ll have time.”

I gave him a look like Yeah, RIGHT. “You’re going to be here for a whole week, aren’t you?”

“I have a lot to make up for in that one week.”

“I still think we’ll have plenty of time to do something besides sex.”

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