Page 65 of Operation Heartbeat

She huffed out a laugh while dragging him in even closer. He dropped his forehead to hers, fighting—

What? Only himself.

He sank into her pussy. Balls-deep. The tight squeeze of her hot pussy had him just about bursting. He claimed her mouth with a fierce possessiveness that he’d never displayed before now, and sure as fuck never felt until this beautiful woman.

He took her hard and fast—there was no other way. The bed shook and his balls clutched with each shove deep inside her. When he felt her juices slick his stiff cock, and heard her breaths come faster, he lost himself to the moment.

He drove deep. Withdrew with a shudder. Thrust in. Out.

“Sophie. I’m coming. I’m—”

“Come inside me, Ryan. Fill me!”

The first jet shot from him with a swiftness that stole his sanity. Tossing his head back on a bellow, he churned his hips and poured his seed into her in swift spurts.

Her lips trailed across his jaw. Grazed down his neck.

With a final growl, he took her mouth for his own again. The instant their lips brushed, he softened the kiss. Tenderness spread through his body, pulsing just as hard as the release still hammering in his veins.

Her fingertips clung to his spine as their kiss spiraled on.

When he lifted his head and studied her eyes, he realized his mistake.

The biggest mistake—and greatest glory—of his life.

In that instant, he gave up his heart to the most perfect woman alive.

And then everything came crashing down as he realized the worst part.

Her reaction to their fake relationship was enough to tell him exactly how she felt. She didn’t want something permanent in her life, even if he could give it to her.

He couldn’t keep her.

FIFTEEN

Sophie emerged from the shower with a towel in hand, drying the ends of her wet hair. Body parts she didn’t know she owned still tingled from the last hour with Con. Add in the lingering flavors of champagne and strawberries on her tongue, and she couldn’t wait to climb back into bed with her big, hunky, hot SEAL.

When her gaze fell over the bed, she stopped. Lowering the towel, she swept her gaze over the room in search of her lover.

“Ryan?”

Standing at the glass door that overlooked the pool, he had his back to her. Beyond him, the sun had dropped behind the horizon hours ago, and most of the lights of the skyline had blinked out, casting the world beyond the broad-shouldered man in blackness.

One hand was lifted to his face and the other clutched his phone to his ear. As she moved closer, she saw that he pinched the bridge of his nose.

At her quick intake of air, he turned and saw her. His hand dropped to his side.

She tilted her head in an unspoken universal question, used by couples everywhere, but he held up a finger to indicate he needed a moment longer.

He issued a few grunts into the phone, followed by a muttered, “I’ll be in touch.” And ended the call.

He faced her fully. At the expression in his dark eyes, dread spiked through her.

Quickly, she closed the gap between them. “What is it?”

“Our suspect—Bayar. They just found him dead.”

She plastered her hands over her mouth, but it didn’t silence her gasp of shock. “What? How? When?”

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