Page 33 of Dane

I pushed him toward the bed and undressed under his avid gaze. “Fuck me, Brielle.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth as I bared my body to his rapt attention.

I tugged at his belt, then his jeans, until I gripped his cock through his briefs. He groaned, the sound tearing out of him, and then his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back as he kissed and sucked his way down my throat, my collarbone, the hollow above my breast. He walked me backward until my knees hit the mattress, and I sat, hard, pulling him down with me.

He shrugged out of the rest of his clothes, tangled and urgent. I needed him inside me, needed the fullness and the friction and the temporary oblivion of his body claiming mine. When he paused, reaching for the nightstand, I grabbed his wrist.

“Now,” I said. “Please. Now.”

“Condom --”

“I’m on the pill. And I trust you.” The words came out before I could catch them, raw and unguarded, and I saw surprise flicker behind his eyes followed by pure, unadulterated hunger.

He settled between my thighs, his hips pressing mine open, and I felt him there, hot and hard, and I arched up to meet him. He pushed in. Slow, despite everything I’d said, despite the urgency clawing at my insides. I felt every inch of his cock, the stretch and the give, the way my pussy adjusted around him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, heels digging into the muscle of his ass, and pulled him deeper.

“Mághnus,” I said, and the name came out like the prayer it had become.

He shuddered, buried as deep as he could go, and held himself there. His arms bracketed my head, the ink on them dark in the lamplight as he looked down at me with awe and desire, the same desperate need I had building inside me.

“Say my name again,” he whispered.

“Mághnus.” I moved my hips, felt him slide slightly, and we both groaned. “Please,” I begged. “Move. I need --”

He moved. Pulled out and thrust back inside again, hard enough to shift me up the mattress, and I grabbed his shoulders, nails digging in, holding on. He set a rhythm that wasn’t slow or careful, each stroke deep and angled, hitting the perfect spot inside me, making my vision blur at the edges.

I raked my nails down his back, felt him grunt and thrust harder. He found my breast with his hand, thumb circling my nipple. I gasped, arching into his touch, so he did it again. The edge of sanity approached faster than I was ready. The fall I needed, the temporary death of everything but sensation, was just beyond my grasp.

“Come for me,” he said, low and rough. “Let go, Brielle. I’ve got you.”

I shattered. The orgasm hit like a wall I’d run into at full speed, pleasure bursting through my body in waves that started where his cock filled my pussy and radiated outward until my toes curled and my back bowed off the mattress. I cried out, wordless and broken, and he kept moving, riding me through it, extending the peak until I was sobbing, overwhelmed.

He followed me over, groaning long and low against my neck, his body going rigid above mine, his hips jerking in short, hard thrusts as he came. I held him through his release, wrapping my arms around his back as he collapsed over me, my face pressed to the sweat-dampened hair at his temple.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. His weight pinned me to the mattress, heavy and solid and exactly what I needed. I ran my hands down his back, feeling the shiver that ran through him when I stroked his skin over and over.

He rolled off me, eventually, but pulled me with him, arranging me against his chest where he wanted me. “You’re coming back tomorrow,” he said. Not a question. The words rumbled through his chest under my ear. “I’ll burn the whole fuckin’ city to the ground if you don’t, Brielle. I swear it by Jesus and all the angels in Heaven.”

“I’ll come back,” I said, the dryness in my voice belying the warmth underneath. “You’ve got my boots. I’ll need those later.”

He barked out something close to a laugh. “Your boots. Figured that’s why you’d come back.”

I smiled, closing my eyes. We lay there together, the compound quiet around us. After a while, he reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulled it up over us both. I burrowed closer, my nose against his collarbone, smelling sweat and soap and the faint, permanent trace of gasoline that clung to his skin. I drifted off to dreams of the complicated, wonderful man who held me so possessively and protectively, even in his sleep. And it was bliss…

Chapter Fourteen

Brielle

Knight’s office smelled like coffee and something super spicy. Possibly something with curry? I stood near the door with my arms wrapped around myself, watching him stare at three screens like if he looked hard enough something would change.

“I don’t have it,” he said. “My contact couldn’t pull off the clone. Because he’s a major player in his bank, his phone has more security than most. I can get past it, but not in the time we have.” He glanced at Ethan. “I’m still working on it, but don’t count on me for this one.”

He turned from the screens. His glacial eyes caught the overhead light, an eerie black-and-blue contrast. “I know where he’s staying. I hacked into his rental and can follow him when he leaves, assuming he uses the car. I also found he has a reservation at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse downtown at seven-thirty.” Knight paused. “I don’t know what he intends to do. I can’t find out if he knows about Norris.” Knight looked and sounded frustrated.

“Fuck,” Tiny muttered.

Hannah stood beside me. She’d been quiet since we walked in, quieter than I’d learned to expect from her. Her eyes stayed on Knight.

“The meeting with Norris,” Knuckles said. He sat on the edge of Knight’s desk, arms folded, looking like a man who’d already run through every scenario and found them all wanting. “We still don’t know where?”

“Because I never spoke to him,” I said. The words came out flat, factual. “I’ve been calling him since the last meeting, but he hasn’t called me --”