Page 80 of Pulse

There she was. Pride mixed with his desire. She’s just realized that despite being flat on her back begging for the pleasure she deserved, she still had all the fucking power.

He entered her with three fingers this time. It took less than five seconds to find her G-spot. He worked it until she was thrashing on the tile and mumbling nonsense.

“Pulse… Pulse…” Never had he loved the sound of his name like he did then. He could live on that sound for years to come.

It wasn’t long before her incoherent words became nothing more than moans and whimpers. Her pussy gripped his fingers as though she never wanted him to leave.

“Close, close,” she shouted as she arched her hips off his thighs, driving his fingers deeper. Her palms slapped against the wet tile, and then she was coming. What a goddamn gift it was to see this woman at her most vulnerable while she writhed with pleasure on his hand. Her pussy fluttered around him, soaking his fingers as it contracted.

“P-Pulse?” she said as she slacked against the floor, looking dizzy and tired.

“I’m here. You’re so damn incredible.”

A choked sob burst from deep within her. She scrambled off him, dislodging his fingers, and climbed into his lap. Immediately, she wound her arms and legs around him in a stranglehold. He returned the embrace, clutching her wet, naked body to him as tight as he could.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his neck.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” He stroked up and down her back. He’d never been a touchy person, but he wanted and needed to feel her skin as often as possible. “I was scared out of my fucking mind, but I get it. I’m sorry too. I just wanted you fucking safe.”

“Me too,” she mumbled against his skin.

One of the many reasons he was falling hard and fast for this rock star of a woman.

They stayed there, wrapped up in each other on the shower floor until the water ran frigid, and they began to tremble.

Then Pulse carried her to the bed, where they spent the rest of the day.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

IF TALIA TOLD anyone she felt the safest in a place where a man had held a gun to her head three days ago, they’d have her sanity evaluated. But that’s how it was. Curly and Brooke came by the apartment that night, promising Spec would not be an issue or a threat to either of them. She must be going soft because she’d believed the man. More importantly, Pulse did, too, so for the past three days, they’d stayed in the apartment on the Handlers’ compound. When she had to go to work, which she often did, a prospect tailed her. Pulse, on the other hand, went to work unguarded.

The DEA call had come and been ignored four times. Her home security cameras showed the local police and a government vehicle stopping by more than once. For some reason, they stayed away from the Handlers’ property.

The reprieve wouldn’t last. The Del Rios man who’d wormed his way into the DEA was not stupid. He had to suspect Pulse was on to him.

At what point would he make his next move, and would it wreak havoc on the Handlers’ lives?

As nice as having a place to stay on the club’s property was, today could mark the last time they were welcome to the apartment. Curly had wanted to let the dust settle before he brought the news of Pulse’s past employment to the entire club.

Today was that day.

Church would begin in five minutes, and Pulse would be in the hot seat while she sat in the apartment working on an ulcer.

She hated being stuffed in the corner, even if she understood why she couldn’t attend. She wasn’t a patched member, and they had their ways of running things. Fine, she could play by the rules, but she didn’t have to like it.

Typically, she’d dive into work to take her mind off her stress, but it wasn’t working today.

“Ugh.” She shoved her laptop across the table and flopped back in her chair. “This is pointless.” If she kept forcing herself to work, she’d make a mistake that could harm a client’s case.

Maybe a workout would help. Perhaps jog around the property, and if she happened to circle the clubhouse a few dozen times, so be it.

Knock, knock.

“Shit!” Talia jolted so hard she levitated off the chair. “Uh, I’m coming.” She hopped up and covered the short distance to the door. Liv and Harper stood on the other side. They were dressed casually in denim shorts and simple T-shirts, yet somehow, Liv still managed to look like a supermodel.

Her insides seized. How much did Harper know? Liv knew it all, or at least Spec’s version, where Pulse was a villain out to hurt the club, with Talia operating as his sidekick. They hadn’t seen each other since Liv stepped in front of a gun, sparing Talia’s life.

“Hey.”

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