Page 114 of Secrets in the Deep

He lifted her and turned, pressing her against the closest wall as he continued to move, balancing the gentleness she needed with the urgency to have her that drove through his body like fire.

He reached between them and ran his thumb over her clit.

She jerked, air audibly stuttering in her lungs.

He moved his thumb in a circle, remembering what she liked, memorizing every little flutter and twitch and moan.

Her fingers started to pull at his hair, eyes scrunched now, needy and desperate.

Good. Hewantedher desperate. He wanted her to feel the same need, the sameachethat consumed every part of his being.

He knew the exact moment she was there. Her thighs tightened, her breathing heaved, and she dug her nails into his skin.

Two more thrusts, and she cried out, her walls clenching and pulsing around his cock as her head dropped to his chest.

He held her through the peak, struggling to continue his thrusts.

She was here. In his arms. His home.

Safe.

That final thought finished him. He buried his face in her hair and broke, her name growling out in a single breath.

Then, finally, there was stillness, her forehead against his shoulder, both of them coming back to reality in short gasps.

The morning tried to slip back in. The way he’d found her behind the door. The cut. The bruise.

He pushed it down.

Not now. Now, it was just the two of them.

One gentle kiss to her forehead and he stepped away from the wall, bodies still entangled, and moved upstairs to the bathroom. They’d shower together. Eat. And he’d make damn sure he didn’t take his eyes off her until he knew with absolute certainty that she was out of danger.

26

Zac Pierce cradled his beer as he swept his gaze around Trap. He sat in the corner of the bar, where he could see everything and everyone. The group of twenty-one-year-olds playing pool. The couple in the back booth who were on their third round of beers.

And Preston.

The actor stood in the center of the bar, a group of what could only be fans surrounding him. Near the door lingered a broad-shouldered guy. Likely his bodyguard, if the frequent assessing glances toward Preston were anything to go by. Not that he’d be much help from that distance. Or in his current frame of mind. Every other minute, his attention shifted to a cluster of young women in the corner.

Mid-sentence, Preston lifted a couple of shot glasses.

Zac sipped his beer, Preston always in his peripheral.

The guy didn’t want him here? Too bad. They needed to catch this person.

His phone vibrated with a text.

Ryan: Anything?

Zac: He’s holding two shot glasses and looks like he’s going to attempt to drink them at the same time. He’s also got five women gushing over him.

Ethan: So you get alcohol and entertainment.

Zac: I might even get a punch in the teeth if he spots me.

Joel: How does he not know yet?