Page 76 of Sirens
And that just didn’t fucking sit right with him.
It was in the ebb and flow of their joined bodies that Trent found himself adrift in thoughts he’d never dared acknowledge before. The realization struck him like the first thunderclap of an oncoming storm: life without Maggie would be like a painting stripped of color, a book devoid of words.
Something…unimaginable.
He hesitated, almost blown over by the strength of his reaction of that inner revelation.
Did she know? Did she realize just what the fuck shedidto him? Was she doing it on purpose? Seducing him within an inch of his sanity without giving him an easy pathway back to reason?
He marveled at the paradox of their connection, how the raw physicality of her gentle, curious exploration of his topography could unearth emotions so intricate and complicated.
So…fragile.
In Maggie’s embrace, he discovered a safe harbor where he could anchor his most intimate fears and desires, a sanctuary where the masks he’d worn for so long dissolved into nothingness.
Danger alarms and red flags waved in his mind’s eye as she pulled him down so he stretched out long above her, their tongues dancing and sparring as he settled into the cradle of her body, chest to breast, hips undulating together, until his thickening cock found her drenched clit. Their intimate flesh branded hotter than the caresses they passed over smooth skin with their fingertips. He circled the head of his sex over the pliant hood of hers, teasing the engorged little nub there, testing its sensitivity and making her gasp and writhe before he thrust home once again.
This time, he took his time with her, peeling back to watch her eyes as he inched inside of her slick heat. They shone with a moisture he couldn’t identify, but no tears spilled as he stretched her legs wide, wider, reaching in between them to pay attention to the bundle of nerves now exposed by her open thighs.
She didn’t blink, only breathed to whisper encouragements. Naughty little nothings he’d never remember. Or always would.
The soundtrack to the night he fell hard for the woman he shouldn’t even glance sideways at.
His body didn’t give him time to consider the pang in his chest, as it was followed by the gradual onset of a tide of pleasure he’d never known.
As the crest of their shared passion receded, leaving them in the gentle shallows of contentment, Trent breathed in the truth with newfound reverence. Here, entangled with Maggie in thequiet aftermath, he understood that love wasn’t just a spark or a flame—it was a fire that could both consume and cleanse. And if the flame was always so warm, so well-tended…
He might just be ready to be consumed by it.
Trent’s arm was a band of warmth around Maggie’s waist, their legs a tangle of contentment beneath the soft throw blanket that had somehow survived their earlier tempest. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against his side, each breath a whisper of serenity. The glow from the fireplace painted their skin in hues of gold and amber, cocooning them in its gentle radiance.
“Did we just… Was that even…?” Maggie’s voice was a sleepy murmur, trailing off into the stillness as she sought the words to capture the indefinable.
“Earth-shattering? Mind-blowing? Clichéd as it sounds, I think we ticked all the boxes,” Trent replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a post-bliss smirk. His fingers traced idle patterns on her arm, skimming over freckles that reminded him of constellations—each one a tiny point of light in the universe of her lovely skin.
The pink and gold of her Irish heritage and the dusky teak of his African one made for a visually stunning contrast as he charted her body like the old colonizing explorers had done to the world at large. Committed every curve to memory. Every valley, crevice, soft spot, every fine hair lifted in awareness and pleasure.
“More like galaxy-imploding,” she said with a chuckle, tilting her head back to lock eyes with him. In the dim light, they sparkled with the remnants of raw desire and something softer, something treacherous to a heart that had thrived on solitude.
Beneath all that, his masculine ego purred with a feline sort of pride.
“Galaxy-imploding,” he echoed, letting the term roll off his tongue as though he were tasting a fine wine. “I’ll have to remember that for the next time I’m bragging at the bullpen.”
“Ha, as if you’d kiss and tell,” Maggie teased, poking his ribs playfully. The action sent a jolt of awareness through Trent’s body, reminding him of how easily she navigated his defenses.
“You don’t know me,” he pretended to grouse, tossing a saucy look down at her before kissing the tip of her nose.
“Please,” she said, wriggling somehow impossibly closer. “Tell me one time when you lied on purpose…and being undercover doesn’t count.”
Damn, he was going to use that one.
“I only lie about the fishing trips,” he admitted, the truth laced with humor. “I think it’s a chromosome thing, because I’ve never met a masculine-presenting person tell the truth about the size of the catch and it doesn’t grow ten pounds with each retelling.”
“Good thing I’m not a fish, then,” Maggie said, her tone a mix of sass and sweetness that made Trent’s heart do an odd little flip. “You caught me, deputy. What’s the protocol now?”
“Protocol states that I should probably let you go,” he confessed, his voice wavering slightly as the weight of his earlier revelation pressed down on him. “But damned if I’m not much good at following rules when it comes to you.”
“Then don’t,” she whispered, the simple command wrapped in vulnerability. Her hand found his, fingers threading through his with a promise of more than just physical connection. “Break the rules with me.”
