Page 109 of Deep Tide

Something else. Something not okay. She didn’t know the details of what he was doing tonight, but her vivid imagination had spent the past twelve hours filling in the gaps. She rushed down the stairs and past the window of the bike shop beneath her apartment. She darted her gaze across the street to the sidewalk where a few drunk stragglers made their way home from bars. At the end of the block, a lone man slouched against a building, watching her from beneath the brim of a baseball cap. She looked away and quickened her pace.

“Leyla.”

Her heart skipped and she whirled around. Even if she hadn’t recognized the low voice, she would have instantly known the broad-shouldered silhouette moving through the shadows.

“What are you doing out here?” Sean stepped into the light of a streetlamp.

“Oh my God.” She gaped at the nasty bruise on his forehead. “What happened to you?”

He ignored the question. “Where are you going?”

“I’m...” She blinked up at him in the glare of the light, and everything registered at once: his damp hair, the smell of soap, the big purple knot above his eyebrow.

He’s not dead, or shot, or bleeding.

Tears burned her eyes as the relief hit her.

“I’m...” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “...looking for you. I was worried. I didn’t want to call your phone in case—”

He kissed her. Emotions flooded her system, and some of her tears leaked out.

Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her off her feet and pulled her against him. Then he turned and eased her back against the brick and took her mouth with the same pent-up yearning she’d been battling for hours. He tasted hot and masculine and hungry, although she’d never before thought that hunger had a taste. And he smelled good, like that bodywash he used. He cradled her head, sliding his hands between her and the hard wall behind her, and she combed her fingers into his damp hair as her brain pieced together what everything meant.

He had showered. He had gone home and cleaned up after whatever sweaty, dirty thing he’d been doing that she wasn’t allowed to know about. And then he had come here, in the middle of the night. Her one a.m. walk past his condo didn’t seem so crazy anymore.

She slid her hands down and pushed against his chest.

He jerked back, panting as he stared down at her with a desperate look. Don’t say no, his eyes pleaded.

She took his hand and pulled him toward the stairs.

It was the second time she’d led him to her stairs, but this time was different because he followed her up. She dug the key from her pocket, feeling the heat of him behind her as she fumbled with the lock. And then they were inside her dark apartment. She’d barely flipped the bolt when he was kissing her again.

She couldn’t think of what to say. But words didn’t seem important as he wrapped his arms around her and walked her backward through the dark space. She bumped the back of the armchair, and he stopped, leaning her against it as he held her face between his hands.

“I had to come,” he said, kissing her over and over. “But I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

She pressed against him, grateful for the solid heat of him. He was here now, not off somewhere getting hurt or worse. His warm hands slid over her butt, cupping her through the thin running shorts as he pulled her against his erection. She dragged his head down and kissed him harder. His hands glided under her sweatshirt, then pulled it up, breaking the kiss as he yanked it over her head. It whooshed to the ground, and she rested her palms on his cool leather jacket before pushing it off his shoulders. She slid her hands down his torso, and her fingertips encountered his holster.

She jerked away as reality rushed back—who he was, why he was here.

How he had to get on a plane soon to return to his home more than 1,700 miles away. She knew the distance. That was how obsessed she’d become with this man in the short time she’d known him.

And he could read her, too—even in the dark—because he stopped undressing her and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she knew he was giving her time to put the brakes on.

Instead she kissed him, deeply, like stomping her foot on the gas. She understood the future pain she was signing up for. But she didn’t care anymore. Her need to avoid pain wasn’t nearly as strong as her need to do this right now. She was too curious. There had been too much buildup between them, starting with that night on the beach when he’d sat down beside her on that piece of driftwood. Really, before that. They’d been on a collision course since outside the wedding reception when she’d first looked up into his green eyes. Every minute she’d spent with him—even the contentious ones—had driven her toward this moment. This was always going to happen, it was just a matter of when.

His hand slid over her breast, cupping it, and the confident way he touched her told her he knew it, too. He was always going to be the man who made her shatter her most important rule, the rule that kept her from getting her emotions trampled on by the parade of cocky guys who showed up here looking for no-strings sex before going home to their real lives.

She eased away, breathing hard, looking up at him in the darkness as he stroked his thumb over her breast, sending ripples of need through her. She took his hand and led him down the hall to the bedroom. Faint bands of light seeped through the blinds and fell across her mussed sheets. She got on her knees on the bed and looked at him.

He paused near the door, probably letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. Then he unbuckled his holster and set it on the dresser. Next came the thunk of his phone and wallet, the rattle of keys. Then he bent over, and his boots hit the floor beside her bed with a thud. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it aside.

He stepped closer, and she looked at him in only his jeans, a perfect sculpture of a man. She scooted to the edge of the bed and leaned forward to press a kiss against his sternum. His skin was hot, and she ran her hands up his arms, absorbing the feel of his muscles under her fingers. His hands slid to her breasts, caressing them through the thin fabric of her tank top as he bent down and took her nipple in his mouth. Her body jolted and she arched her back, savoring the feel of his mouth and his hands as she eased back onto the bed and pulled him with her.

“You are so fucking hot,” he murmured, crawling over her.

His weight settled between her legs, and she kissed him, giddy with anticipation. She’d been wanting exactly this. Sean alone with her. In the dark. No distractions. She’d been wanting his avid mouth and his skilled hands. He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. Then his hands moved over her shoulders, grazing her breasts on their way to her naval. In one swift movement, he slid her shorts over her hips and down her legs, and then his mouth was on her.

---