Page 40 of Hazard

As if he had a direct link to her thoughts, his lashes drifted open and his darkened gaze locked with hers, then plunging deeply. Again, and again. Long, slow agonizing strokes designed to make the pleasure last.

He lowered his head and kissed her, the soft, sensual glide of his tongue matching the rhythm of his lazy thrusts. Eventually, the heat and friction caught him on fire, finally shattering his control.

She felt the change in him as his pace quickened, his breathing grew ragged, and he pumped harder, faster toward his own release. She dug her fingers into the rippling muscles of his damp back, arched high and hard into his thrusts, and felt him stiffen as his climax peaked. He dragged his lips from hers, surged into her a final time, and on a ragged, primitive growl, he spilled himself into her.

Leigh hung on to him and turned her face against his throat, the emotional aftermath as wrenching as the release—she felt raw and so full of something she couldn’t name, it scared the hell out of her and soothed her at the same time.

This man. This fucking man, who had saved her life, drove her crazy, gave as good as he got, and treated her as a valuable human being even when he was arguing with her, could so easily turn her inside out.

As if it took the last bit of energy he had, Hazard adjusted his hold, his hand splayed wide on the back of her head, holding her with such absolute tenderness that it made her throat close up all over again. Those special operator hands that used a gun with such skill, fought hand to hand with brute force, and wielded a knife like it was an extension of him, were nothing but gentle on her.

He held her for a long, long time, until his breathing leveled out and she stopped shaking, until the aftermath softened into something less tense.

Cradling her head against him, he dragged his arm out from under her. Bracing his weight on his forearms, he cupped her face, looking into her eyes with a soft kind of stunned expression. He lowered his head and gave her the sweetest, softest kiss. Releasing another sigh, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, a glint of intimate amusement lightening his eyes. “Are you going to leave me alone now so I can get one moment of peace without your mouth driving me crazy?” he growled

“I can still fight, you know,” she warned without one ounce of threat as she smoothed her hand up his long, muscled back. She didn’t miss his double meaning about her mouth and smiled.

He grinned at her. “Yeah, uh-huh, wet noodle.”

She gave him a chastising look. “You want me to leave?”

“Yeah, get the fuck out.”

She started to move, and he chuckled and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “I was kidding.”

“Well,” she said, reaching up and running her hands through all that gorgeous hair. “We’ve crossed the damn line but good.” Her hand slipped down to the nape of his neck, caressing him in slow, easy brushes of her fingers.

“Damn good,” he said, his eyes flaring with both banked desire and wry humor. “I’d say it’s your fault, and my dick, who I couldn’t control.”

“Me and your dick are to blame? Typical man.”

“Yup.” A smile still in his eyes, he trailed his thumb against her upper lip. “If you were, say, butt-ugly, I would have had a fighting chance.”

“Butt-ugly?” she asked. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“I think you’re gorgeous, drop-dead g-fucking-gorgeous.” He shifted his hips and Leigh gripped him as her expression altered and he frowned. “What is that look about? You’ve gotta know that’s true. The way guys look at you.”

She could have skirted the question and laughed it off, agreeing with him, but that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg part of the truth. She was done with holding back on him. She was aware that what had happened between them was rocking her world. He had rocked her world from the moment she met him, and avoiding her emotions, denying her feelings would hurt him. She never wanted to hurt him by taking the easy way out.

“Leigh?”

She couldn’t help but wonder if she shared all her secrets with him, secrets that still caused her pain and grief, that maybe it would help ease her into this new facet of her life. She didn’t think she could go back to the way she had been. She exhaled a deep breath. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Rolling to his side, cradling her back against his chest, he whispered huskily in her ear, “Start at the beginning.” He tightened his arm around her when she made a soft, distressed sound, afraid of spoiling what they had just shared with the weight of her past, but knowing she had to take the risk.

“You’re safe with me, Leelee.”

Her heart thrummed hard, and it gave her the courage to start at the beginning. She was safe with him.

“I was always told I was a sensitive child from the moment I could remember. It wasn’t something that was praised or accepted in my family. My parents are corporate lawyers and all about those golden billable hours.” Swallowing hard, she clamped her lips tightly together. This was harder, so much harder than she thought it would be. “I don’t know about your father, but mine was shallow.” It hurt to say it out loud. “He could only be bothered with me when I was on top of the world, but one stumble, one fall, one failure, one mistake, and I was a pariah.”

“My dad died when I was young.”

Feeling contrite down to her bones, she turned and gazed up at him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”

But he shook his head, his jaw set. “You didn’t. I don’t have many feelings about him. I never knew him.”

Whatever he said, that wasn’t true. Everyone had a feeling about their parents, whether they were present or not. Maybe he was in denial like she was or maybe it was something he buried. She hoped that she would get the chance to ask him about his true feelings. With a lump in her throat, she whispered sadly, “I didn’t really know mine, either.”

---