Page 53 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
My fingers slide across my skin, and my palm wraps around my cock, pulling a deep moan from my throat as I picture her beside me, so vivid I can almost feel her heat. Alina in that shirt, spark in her eyes, the fire she ignited stirring within us—it's all I can think of.
Suddenly, it's not enough to just imagine her. I want to feel her again, taste her again.
I stroke myself slowly, desperate breaths spilling from my lips as memories of her swirl through my mind. I picture bending her over in front of me, plunging deep inside her as she cries out my name, her urgency matching my own as she writhes beneath me, urging me to take her.
"Fuck, Alina," I breathe out, quickening my pace, the heat pooling low in my belly.
Each stroke brings me closer to the edge, and my thoughts spiral to the way she answered my touch, the sweetness of her skin, the heat of her body. Memories of her gasps, her pleas—it's a collision of desire I can't resist.
With a hard thrust of my hips, I let go, spiraling into pleasure as I spill over my hand, the warmth and release washing over me in steamy waves. I lean against the tiles, breathless, and the memories of her linger, tantalizing and undeniable.
As the steam swirls around me, I shake my head, clearing the fog but knowing it won't be easy.This can't be distraction. This has to be about the mission.
I finish washing up quickly, trying to push away the lingering arousal. I have to get my head back in the game. There's too much at stake to let myself get distracted by a pair of green eyes and a sharp tongue.
But as I step out of the shower, I can't quite shake the feeling that Alina Bennett has awakened something in me, and I'm not sure I'll be able to put it back to sleep.
sixteen
Alina
Itoss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, my mind racing with questions about this bizarre situation I've found myself in. Sleep eludes me as I replay the events of the past day over and over.
Gunshots. Motorcycles. Dim sum and danger.
Just as I'm considering getting up to do some snooping around this strange house, a tantalizing aroma wafts through the air.
Cookies? At 3 AM?
My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten much since this whole ordeal began. Curiosity wins out over caution, and I quietly slip out of bed. Following my nose, I pad down the hallway and stairs toward the kitchen.
To my surprise, I find Ghost in the kitchen, his broad shoulders squared as he methodically pipes perfect rosettesonto a batch of cupcakes. Another tray of chocolate chip cookies sits cooling on a rack, while a third batch bakes in the oven.
Despite the domestic setting, nothing about his presence seems diminished. Even in a plain black apron, he radiates controlled power, his movements as precise with the piping bag as they likely are with a weapon.
"Fourth stair creaks. You might want to remember that if you're trying to move undetected," Ghost's voice rumbles without turning around, filling the kitchen space.
I freeze, startled by his awareness. "How did you—"
"I hear everything, little hellcat." Now he turns, those intense eyes assessing me. "Couldn't sleep, or were you planning another reconnaissance mission?"
Heat rises to my cheeks. "The smell lured me down." I nod toward the cooling rack. "Since when do deadly men bake?"
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. "Stress baking. Old habit."
He places the piping bag down with deliberate care. "You going to stand there all night, or do you want a cookie?"
I hesitate briefly before taking a seat at the island. Ghost's gaze tracks my movement, missing nothing.
"Where is everyone?" I ask, breaking the tense silence.
"Frost is resting. His injury needs time to heal." Ghost's jaw tightens slightly. "The others are taking turns patrolling the perimeter."
I nod, processing this information. "So it's just us?"
His sharp blue eyes meet mine. "For now." The words carry an unmistakable warning.
Ghost slides a plate of still-warm chocolate chip cookies towards me, the movement precise. I take a bite and can't help the small moan of pleasure that escapes.
