Page 25 of The Hive Queen

Tingles rush through me, magic I haven’t felt in nearly two decades rushing through me and pushing my pleasure over the edge.

Flint’s hands tighten on my breasts, his groan hot against my shoulder, and cum paints hot stripes over my back.

I collapse forward, cupping Sharpe’s face, my lips seeking his in a sloppy kiss, my body too exhausted for finesse.

His mouth curves against mine, and his eyes open, hazel and human once more.

Flint’s arm wraps around my waist, and he falls to the side, taking me with him. We land with his front pressed to my back, his knees curled behind mine.

Sharpe rolls to face me and curves his arm over us both, and we lie in each other’s embrace as our pulses slow and our breathing evens out.

A quiet scratch and whine from the door disrupts the moment, and Flint half rises.

I reach back to dig my fingernails into his bare hip. “No foxes in my bed.”

He kisses my shoulder. “I’ll just go make sure she has water before we go to sleep.”

As he rolls out of bed, he leaves my back cold.

Sharpe rises far enough to grab the blanket from the bottom of the mattress and pull it up around us. “We should get some sleep. Morning will come too soon.”

I search his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Love softens his expression. “Are you worrying about me?”

I cup his cheek. “I’m allowed to.”

He leans forward to kiss me softly. “I’m tired, and my body is wrung dry. On our next day off, I want to sleep all day cuddled up next to you.”

A smile forms at the words. “That sounds nice.”

He pulls me closer. “I really am sorry for earlier. It won’t happen again.”

The reminder sends worry through me. “Bailey’s out for your job.”

Sharpe’s gaze hardens. “He’ll have a fight on his hands.”

“I can take care of him,” I whisper, the shadows of my bedroom allowing the offer.

Sharpe’s hand tightens on my hip. “Don’t tempt me.”

That he doesn’t simply refuse tells me how dire the situation really is, and anger simmers in my blood. Sharpe bends over backward to protect this city, while someone like Bailey is allowed to do more harm than good.

“Pen.” his voice holds a tone of warning. “I want this to be a fair fight.”

“He won’t be playing fair.” I snuggle closer, resting my head on his arm. “But I won’t touch him unless he hurts you. Then all bets are off.”

Sharpe’s arms wrap around me. “If he hurts me, I can handle him myself. Don’t dirty your hands.”

My hands are already dirty, but I keep the thought to myself, unwilling to ruin this time together.

If Bailey crosses the line, though, I won’t hold back.

No one hurts the men I love.

full and bouncy

- Sharpe -

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