Page 26 of My Special Ops Neighbor
His words sent desire flooding through her, hot and urgent and absolutely necessary. When his hands spanned her ribcage, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, she arched into his touch with a soft cry.
"I love the sounds you make," he murmured against her throat. "The way you respond to me, the way you trust me with your pleasure."
Vincent kissed his way down her body with patient thoroughness, worshipping every curve and hollow with his mouth and hands. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he settled between them with predatory intent.
The first touch of his mouth against her center made her cry out, her hips lifting as sensation crashed over her. He used lips and tongue to pleasure her with patient intensity until she was trembling on the edge of climax.
"Please," she gasped, her hands clutching his hair. "Vincent, I need—"
"I know what you need," he said against her slick flesh. "Let me give it to you."
He slipped two fingers inside her while his mouth focused on the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her see stars. The dual stimulation was perfect, building the tension inside her like a coiled spring until she thought she might shatter from the intensity.
"Come for me," he commanded. "I want to feel you fall apart before I make you mine."
The combination of his words and the perfect pressure of his fingers sent her over the edge with shattering force. She came with a broken cry of his name, her body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure engulfed her and she went under.
Before the aftershocks had faded, he was moving over her, settling between her thighs with his weight braced on his forearms. When he entered her with one smooth thrust, they both groaned at the perfect fit.
"This is what love feels like," he said, moving with deep, measured strokes. "This connection, this trust, this absolute certainty that we belong together."
She met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist as they found their rhythm. This was making love with the kind of profound intimacy that came from choosing each other completely.
"I was so afraid," she confessed as he took her higher. "Afraid that if I let myself love you, I'd lose the independence I've fought so hard to build."
"You haven't lost anything," he replied, his movements becoming more urgent as pleasure built between them. "You've gained a partner who will fight beside you, not try to control you."
"Promise me something," she said, her hands gripping his shoulders as sensation overwhelmed her.
"Anything."
"Promise me we'll keep doing this. Working cases where financial crimes get people killed. Being partners in fighting corruption."
"I promise," he said without hesitation. "We'll build something together—a business, a life, a purpose that matters."
When her second climax hit, triggered by the perfect angle of his hips and the deep emotion in his voice, she clung to him as sensation consumed her. He followed seconds later, burying his face in her neck as he emptied himself inside her with a broken groan of her name.
They lay tangled together afterward, skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The basement that had served as their command center was now their sanctuary, the place where they'd finally claimed each other without reservation.
"No regrets?" Vincent asked softly, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.
"Only one," Yvette said, surprising him.
"What's that?"
"I regret that it took someone trying to kill me for us to meet." She turned in his arms to face him. "I could have been living next door to my perfect partner for months without knowing it."
"Maybe that's what fate is," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Not the dramatic moments, but recognizing when someone extraordinary has been right beside you all along."
They held each other in comfortable silence, both processing the magnitude of what they'd been through together. Yvette traced the scar on Vincent's chest—an old wound from his military days that she was only now seeing in peaceful circumstances.
"This one's from Afghanistan?" she asked gently.
"Shrapnel from an IED. Different deployment than the one where I lost my team." His voice was quiet but steady. "I have a lot of scars from that war."
"The ones we can see, and the ones we can't."
"Yeah." He caught her hand, pressing it flat against his heart. "You helped heal some of the ones that couldn't be seen. Giving me the truth about what really happened to my Marines."
