Page 51 of Silence and Surrender

I could feel him, straining and hard against me, and my mouth suddenly felt thick. I wanted to show him the same pleasure he’d shown me; I needed to prove that I, too, was more than what I seemed.

Without thinking, I sank to my knees, looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes.

“Fuck, Bella,” he muttered, watching with rapt attention while I worked the buttons on his slacks. Suddenly he was free, and the sight of him…shook me.

Six months ago, I would have never guessed that our nerdy head of legal concealed such a package. But Colton Moreau was full of surprises, thick and substantial in a way that made my breath catch. The first tentative taste sent heat pooling low in my belly, and when I finally took him fully into my mouth, his reaction was immediate and primal. His fingers threaded through my hair, gripping with careful restraint as a deep, guttural moan escaped from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound of this controlled man losing himself to pleasure was intoxicating.

I wasn’t the kind of girl to get on my knees for anyone, but Colton had earned it. He moved with me, barely able to control himself. But before I could really get going, he pushed away, and instead, pulled me upright, his lips meeting mine.

“What—”

“Not that way. That’s not how it’s going to be for my first time with you.” He reached for his wallet, producing a condom with practiced efficiency. Even in this, he was prepared. I watched as he rolled it on, the sight making my mouth go dry.

He reached for my leg, wrapping it around his narrow hips, supporting me. Then he was inside me, filling me completely, and we both groaned at the sensation.

“Fucking hell…” he moaned, and the roughness of his thrust took my breath away for a second. His control was slipping, just a little, just enough to demonstrate what kind of man lay beneath the surface.

His kiss was fierce now, marked by something almost desperate. Like he needed to prove something—to himself, to me, to the ghost of Catherine’s betrayal. Each thrust drove us both closer to the edge, our breaths mingling in the heated space between us. My fingers dug into his shoulders as waves of pleasure built, threatening to overwhelm me.

When release finally came, it crashed over us both with an intensity that left me trembling. Colton buried his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as we both came down from the high.

For a moment we stayed there, breathing hard in the darkness. Then reality started creeping back in. The murmur of the party outside. The weight of what we were investigating. The danger that lurked beneath doctored paperwork and polite smiles.

“We should get back,” I whispered against his mouth.

“Yes.” But he didn’t move. Just studied my face like he was memorizing it. Like he was afraid he might not see it again. “Isabella...”

“Don’t.” I smoothed his lapels, straightened his bow tie. Tried to rebuild our professional façades. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

He caught my hands, thumbs stroking my wrists. “Why not?”

“Because this is complicated enough.” I met his eyes, letting him see the truth there. “Because there are girls being trafficked through our bank. Because my father died for asking the wrong questions.”

“And because I’m the bank’s chief counsel?”

“Because you make me feel safe.” The admission hurt. Like giving away a secret I’d been keeping even from myself. “And nothing about this situation is safe.”

He was quiet for a moment, still holding my wrists. Still keeping me anchored when everything else felt like shifting sand in an hourglass. “I meant what I said in the vault. I won’t let them hurt you.”

“I know.” I pulled away slightly. “That’s what worries me.”

I left first, pausing at a mirror in the hall to check my appearance. I smoothed my hair, reapplied my lipstick, and adjusted my dress. No one looking at me would guess what had just transpired between the bank’s chief counsel and me among the first editions.

The party had moved to the terrace when I returned. Summer twilight bathed everything in honey-warm light. Somewhere in the gardens, a string quartet played Vivaldi. Waiters circulated with champagne and canapés, everything elegant.

Through the French doors, I watched the other guests; more had arrived during our absence. Reznikov was deep in conversation with Lord Rutherford, their heads bent close. Charlotte Ashworth was introducing a potential buyer to the false Matisse. A cluster of collectors examined the Beckmann with appropriate reverence.

The night air carried the scent of expensive cigars and jasmine. Fountains played in the formal gardens, their sound mixing with classical music and cultured conversation.

I caught Colton’s eye across the room as he emerged on the terrace, his composure nearly perfect—but I could see the signs others would miss. The slight redness creeping above his collar, the barely noticeable swelling of his lips. His bowtie, though straightened, sat just a fraction looser than his usual pristine standard. A few hairs around his temple stood up from where I’d fisted it. To anyone else, he was the same controlled Chief Counsel. But I knew better now. Knew exactly how that control could slip, how those perfect suits could hide passion marks, how those masculine hands could grip with desperate need.

The auction at the Mayfair Hotel loomed ahead of us. Another event where we’d have to maintain our covers while searching for proof of the bank’s darkest dealings.

Only now, everything had changed. The roles we’d planned to play, the art advisor and her wealthy client discovering an attraction, weren’t roles anymore. Not after the vault. Not after tonight.

I caught his eye one last time across the great hall. Even at this distance, I could see the heat in his gaze, the promise of more to come. At the Mayfair, we’d have to navigate more than just corrupt bankers and forged paperwork. We’d have to deal with this thing between us—this dangerous, impossible attraction that threatened to burn through every careful plan.

The string quartet started another piece, but I barely heard it. All I could think about was how right it felt to have Colton Moreau inside of me.

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