Page 56 of Wilde and Deadly

Her nails raked down Davey’s back as the coil of tension inside her wound tighter and tighter. She was so close, her body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy.

“Davey, please,” she gasped, arching into him. “I need...”

“I know what you need,” he growled, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. “Come for me, Rowan. Let go.”

As if on command, her orgasm crashed over her, a tidal wave of pleasure that had her crying out his name. Her inner muscles clenched around him, gripping him like a vise as spasms of bliss rocked through her.

Davey groaned, his rhythm faltering as her climax triggered his own. She felt him swell inside her, felt the hot pulse of his release as he spilled himself deep.

They stayed like that for long moments, wrapped around each other, hearts pounding in sync as the aftershocks slowly subsided. Rowan kept her eyes closed, savoring the feeling of him still buried deep within her, the comforting weight of his body pressed against hers.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but sometime later, she woke with the uneasy feeling of being watched. Years of training had sharpened her instincts, and even half-asleep, she knew something was off. She cracked one eye open to find Davey leaning on one elbow, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“What?” she murmured, her voice shockingly husky. She cleared her throat and tried again, “What?”

His beautiful blue eyes softened, but his brow remained furrowed. “Just waiting for you to bolt again.”

“Relax, Wilde.” She rolled onto her back, stretching languidly. Everything hurt, but mostly in a good way. “If I were going to run, I’d have done it earlier, while you were snoring like a freight train.”

He scowled. “I don’t snore.”

She patted his chest. “Keep telling yourself that, big guy.”

Davey’s scowl deepened, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re one to talk. You kick like a mule in your sleep.”

Rowan snorted. “At least I don’t hog all the blankets.”

“No, you just steal them completely.”

She glanced down, realizing he was right. She had the blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. With a grin, she unwound herself and tossed half the covers over him, leaving her bare to his gaze. “There. Happy now?”

She didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to the bandage on her ribs, no doubt checking for more spots of blood on the fresh white gauze. His gaze lingered there for a moment before traveling back up to meet hers.

“I’ll be happy when you’re healed up and we’ve dealt with whoever put that hole in your side.”

“I already dealt with them. They won’t be coming after me again.”

He reached out, tracing the curve of her hip with a gentleness that never failed to surprise her. “But others will.”

“It’s an occupational hazard.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? The constant danger, always looking over your shoulder?”

“Did it bother you as a SEAL?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted softly. “It wears on you after a while. If I hadn’t been blown up, I probably would’ve gotten out sooner rather than later.”

She shrugged, but the casual gesture felt forced. “It’s the life I chose. The only one I know.”

“But why?” He propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze intense as he studied her face. “What made you go down that path? You could’ve worked with your father. Joined the military. Hell, WSW would’ve snapped you up and offered a fat paycheck for your skills. Why choose a life as an assassin?”

Rowan’s throat tightened. It was a question she’d asked herself countless times over the years, usually in the dark hours of the night when sleep eluded her and the ghosts of her past crept in to haunt her. She’d never been able to come up with a satisfactory answer, at least not one she was willing to share. But with Davey looking at her like that, his eyes soft and searching, she found herself wanting to try.

She rolled onto her side, mirroring Davey’s position so they were face to face. “I guess I just wanted to be in control for once. To call the shots instead of following orders.”

His brow furrowed. “And you couldn’t do that working for your father or the government?”

“It’s different.” She struggled to find the right words. “When you’re a soldier or working for a PMC, you’re part of a system. There are rules, protocols. Doing what I do, I make my own rules. I choose my jobs, my targets. It’s...”

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