Tal made a choking sound, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Baby,” he murmured.
“Nope,” I said, releasing him with a soft pop. “It’s my turn to taste you now.”
And I did just that, using my tongue to trace patterns up and down the hard length of him, wrapping my fingers around his cock, and stroking him firm and slow and sure. His hips jerked, curses poured out of his mouth, but I didn’t let go, didn’t stop until finally—
“Fuck!”
He tugged my mouth off, reached for me.
I let him tug my bra off because not only was it what I wanted, but it was something that was difficult with the wet fabric and my injured shoulder. As soon as it hit the floor with a sopping thunk, I pushed him back onto the mattress and climbed over him.
“Tammy,” he began.
“No?” I asked, brushing my pussy over him, the scorching brand of him slipping between my folds.
“Yes,” he groaned, head thrown back, the tendons of his neck standing out in sharp relief. “But—” His fingers dipped between my thighs, making me hiss out a breath, my thighs contracting around his.
“What?” I breathed.
“I needed to make sure you’re ready.”
It was my turn for a wicked smile. “Oh, I’m ready, baby.” And I reached for the condom, rolled it on, and sank down onto him, my lips parting at that glorious pleasure pain of him pushing in, pressing deep, filling me plumb full. It was the freaking best, and almost too much, especially in this position. But Tal didn’t move, just kept his hands on my hips, holding me in place, the hard thrust of him so freaking deep. “Tal?” I asked.
His fingers twitched, gaze locked on mine. “Hang on, Hazel Eyes. I need a second.”
My hips flexed. He moaned. “To what?”
“To find some fucking control.”
“Oh, no.” I peeled his fingers from my hips, laced them with mine. “Oh, no, baby. We’re not doing this thing with careful control.” I writhed forward, pressing our interlocked hands over his head. “We’re done with that bullshit.” I nipped his throat, found his mouth for a kiss that sent my head spinning. “We’re living this. Big and out loud and to our grandest potential.”
Those gold eyes were blistering, scorching into my soul.
And then he flipped us, began stroking fast and furious, angling our hips so that he hit the absolute perfect spot. I was close in seconds, hurtling too fast, too rapidly for that edge.
But thankfully, he was right there with me, driving deep and steady, his face pulled into fierce, striking lines.
I moaned, tearing my gaze from his, unable to hold it as pleasure swarmed up and carried me over the edge, dragging me down the other side as he thrust several more times and froze, my name emerging from his lips, giving me the strength, somehow, to peel back my lids, and see the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.
A man staring down at me with affection, with need, with pleasure in his eyes.
Not just an orgasm.
But deeper, more meaningful.
“I see you, sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting one hand to cup my cheek. “And we’re going to see what we can do about filling each other’s holes.”
That was sweet.
So freaking sweet.
It was just also . . . so freaking bad.
I started laughing, my fingers finding his jaw, tracing through the bristles. “Filling holes indeed, you wonderful man.”
Pink on his cheeks.
Affection in his eyes.
Then he started laughing, and it was the absolute best sound I’d ever heard.
The next morning, I was in the arms of a warm, snuggly Talbot, and I didn’t want to ever get up.
But nature called.
So, I was required to slip from Tal’s arms, out from beneath the cozy blankets, off the comfortable mattress, and pad across the floor until I reached the bathroom.
I did my business, took care of my ablutions, and then pawed my way through his drawers until I found one of his T-shirts, tugging it over my head. Then I did some more padding, this time past the temptation in bed and down the hall to the kitchen. I was starving, and I knew that he was going to wake up the same.
We’d worked up quite an appetite the night before.
Giggling, I walked into the kitchen.
And then did a very un-cop-like thing.
I screamed.
The man in the kitchen spun toward me, raising—I reacted without thinking, my body seeking cover, moving to put a wall between myself and the intruder before I fully processed what he held—a camera, pointed in my direction.
Pounding footsteps—from in front and behind.
Then Tal was there, putting himself between me and the man, the camera. I don’t know why I was frozen, why I should have been reduced to a piece of furniture when I could take on an attacker with a knife, drag down a suspect, keep my head clear in any multitude of stressful situations.
But this one—a strange man, creeping toward me, a camera pointed in my direction, especially when I was naked beneath Tal’s T-shirt—well, it had me reduced to a lump.
The shutter seemed gunshot loud, whirling clicks radiating about the space like bullets, gouging the peace and quiet by bouncing off the floor, the cabinets, the ceiling. My eyes drifted around, half-expecting to see gouges in the wood of the cupboards, chips out of the tile, holes in the sheetrock overhead. But . . . nothing was different.
Except, me.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” Talbot growled.
The clicks didn’t stop, even as the intruder said, “Come on, man. I’m just trying to—”
“You know you can’t use those pictures,” Tal said, still standing between me and the cameraman, shifting as the man came closer. “You’re trespassing.”
“I take ‘em, someone will buy them. That’s
