Page 63 of Desire Me
Saint hissed. “So good.” Planting his elbows, he pulled his hips back, dragging his cock through her channel. His return drew a gasp from her. “Give me your breast, Rae,” he demanded, voice like gravel, and repeated the thrust. “Let me suck that pretty nipple.”
Finally getting her hands to cooperate, Rae pushed one swollen mound up toward Saint’s mouth. His teeth clamped on, sending a zing of sensation from breast to core, and then he was sucking her into him like he was starving and she was his last meal. His hips worked in unison with every draw of his lips, a pounding, driving rhythm that would have slammed her up the bed if his hands weren’t hooked beneath her shoulders, forcing her down to meet his every thrust. Rae was lost in the flood of sensation, Saint taking over her senses just as he took control of her body, flooding her with a pleasure that drove her hard up the mountain of arousal faster than anything she’d ever experienced before. Her free hand went to his hip, then back to his ass, grabbing on, pulling, urging him to push harder, take her harder, suck her harder, harder, harder—
Until she splintered beneath him, broken by the crest of the wave. She was vaguely aware of a fast pounding, Saint growling at her breast as he took his own pleasure, found the peak, and broke as well, his body jerking both inside her and out. Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, an endless wave of ecstasy that erased everything but Saint above her and the pleasure inside her.
And when it finally tapered away, she couldn’t let go. She never wanted to let go of this man, this moment.
This memory. Forever.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
He wasn’t sure what woke him—all he knew was that awareness seeped in, and with it the warmth of Rae’s bare body spooned against his, the weight of her breast cupped in his hand.
He snuggled closer. Yes, snuggled. And it felt good.
Until his cell rang on the bedside table.
“Damn.” That must be what had woken him. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from Rae and turned to grab the phone, clicking to accept the call on the way to his ear. “Yeah?”
“It’s Remi.”
Saint slid up in bed, tension already invading his muscles. “What is it?”
“You need to get Rae out of there, now.”
“Why?”
“Eli pulled up nearby video feeds to see what he could get on the aftermath of our little visit today.” Remi’s voice was piss and gravel, so whatever they’d seen couldn’t be good. Saint slid out of bed and headed for his clothes. “He went back a little too far and ended up going over the tail end of the footage from this afternoon. Saint, they found our truck.”
“What?” Jacking his fatigues up his legs, he left them unbuttoned and hurried over to Rae, shaking her awake. “What did they do?”
“They tracked the fucking thing is what they did,” Remi growled. “The Expedition had a tracker on it when we got to your place. You’ve got to get out of there.”
“On it.” Saint clicked off the phone, then pulled up King’s number. Rae was sitting up, rubbing her eyes. “Get dressed, cariño.”
She shook her head, confusion flashing across her face even as she slid from under the covers.
“Hurry.”
King picked up. “Saint?”
“They know where we are, bro. They put a tracker on the Expedition.”
The sleepiness in his teammate’s voice disappeared immediately. “I’m on my way. Get out; I’ll get the rest of the team.”
A light began to flash next to Saint’s side of the bed. “Too late. They’re here.”
He hung up.
“Who?” Rae asked, already drawing on clothes.
Saint turned his phone on silent, shoved it into his pocket, and pulled on a dark long-sleeved T-shirt to cover his too-pale skin. “Our friends from this afternoon.” He crossed the room to the closet and opened the gun safe. “They’re already here, Rae. There’s no time to run. Backup is at least half an hour out.”
“How did they find us?”
“Something must have tipped them off this afternoon while we were with Lonergan. They circled back and tagged our truck.”
Rae cursed. Saint watched from the corner of his eye as she filled her pockets: cell, money, some keys she’d found in her things. No good for a vehicle, but for self-defense… She even threw in a hairbrush. “I need a weapon,” she said.
