Page 192 of Sins of Innocence

Not anymore.

"I haven't loved anyone since my mom died." He talks between kisses. Against my temple. "But this?" The corner of my mouth. "It's different." The underside of my jaw. "Bigger." The hollow of my throat. "Consuming." My chin. "Everything."

His mouth finds mine. Not desperately. Not hungrily. Not yet.

It's coming home, every brush of his lips confirming the same impossible truth. I found you, the other half of my soul.

My fingers slide into his hair, and he makes a low sound against my mouth, his arms tightening around me and I shudder with relief.

Finally.

The kiss breaks. Only because breathing becomes necessary. Our foreheads rest together.

I shift closer until every part of me rests against him.

His hands move over my back with quiet reverence, like he's memorizing me.

His mouth finds my temple again. My cheek. My jaw. No words this time, but every kiss lingers.

Every kiss says the same thing his words finally did.

I love you.

I tilt my head and find his mouth again, giving the words back to him through my lips.

We make love, there on the couch. Reverent fingers undoing buttons and pulling clothing away piece by piece. He kisses the red diagonal between my breasts. I press soft lips to the matching one on his chest.

We survived another attempt on our lives and our prize for doing so is each other.

There is no hurry between us. No teasing. No games. No cuffs or nipple rings. No delayed orgasms

Just two people who have found the one thing so many claim is a myth, their soulmate.

I take him into my body with gratitude overflowing in my heart. He touches me like he can't believe I'm really here. Really his.

We whisper words of love and promises born of it.

My climax builds slowly, but when the pleasure explodes inside me, he's coming too, our bodies so in tune, that even the aftershocks shudder through us at the same time.

Afterward, I stay there, his member still inside me. Still hard. Still thick. And I know, that gentle and slow or fast and furious, this night isn't going to be over any time soon.

Because we aren't just having sex.

We're expressing emotion so deep, even the word love feels inadequate to express it.

Chapter forty-two

Not Boss Material

WRAITH

Kenneth Shaughnessy is exactly where I told McLaren and Nathan to leave him.

Strapped to the chair with the sharp metal lined cuffs in Interrogation 1. Mick walks in behind me and grunts his approval at the site.

Kenneth starts yelling as soon as he sees us. "You can't do thish! Brogan won't let you. I'm hish cousin. I'm hish blood."

His slurred speech tells me the drug cocktail I had my people administer is already working.