Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane #2)(85)

He backed her against the bed and eased her onto it, stretching his body out alongside hers. His lips roamed from her neck, down her collarbone, and across the tops of her breasts. Every touch of his mouth, every stroke of his fingertips, stoked her need higher.

He lifted his head, watching her with intimidating concentration as he slid a hand between her legs. Her body arched under his touch, and he smiled, obviously pleased by her response.

“That’s it,” she said.

When she reached for him, he pulled his hips out of her reach. “Ladies first.”

Tension built inside her, spiraling higher and higher, until she writhed.

“Now,” she gasped. She’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for this moment.

“But you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her face. “I could watch you all night.”

But Morgan couldn’t wait another second. Her body and her soul wanted to be part of him. This man who had turned her life around. He’d shown her she could be happy again.

That she could live instead of simply existing.

She reached for him again, her hand trembling with need. This time he didn’t resist. Her fingers closed around him, and his eyes practically rolled back in his head.

“Now,” she said in a firmer voice.

His chest shook with a low chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

His confidence settled her nerves, and she clung to him.

He reached for the nightstand, opening the drawer and removing a condom. After sheathing himself, he slid on top of her, nestling between her thighs. His hands cradled her face, framing it, and his gaze studied her, as if he was deliberately preserving this moment in his memory.

He slid inside her, filling her body and soul. Fully seated, he froze and stared down at her. The connection between them seemed to transcend time for a few seconds.

“I’d love to stay like this forever.” Sweat broke out on his forehead. “But I can’t.”

“Nothing lasts forever.” Morgan hitched her legs around his waist and pulled him deeper. “Better to make the most of every moment.”

But she would remember every precious second and hold it tightly in her heart.

They moved together, instinct guiding their bodies. Tension built, ebbed, built again, until Morgan finally spiraled out of control. Her orgasm was a free fall that left her dizzy. Lance shuddered and collapsed on top of her.

Sweating and panting, she poked him in the ribs. “You’re crushing me.”

But inside, her heart felt full, as if he had filled its cracks.

“Sorry.” He rolled off her and onto his back, out of breath.

She rolled onto her side, throwing a leg over his and resting a hand on his powerful, bare chest. “Consider my world rocked.”

He put his hand over hers and squeezed gently. “I think my heart exploded.”

Her gaze went lower, to the thick angry scars on his thigh from where he’d been shot the previous year. He’d almost bled to death. For a second, she couldn’t bear to think about a world without him in it. “You almost died.” The words choked her, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

“But I didn’t.”

She squirmed lower on the bed and pressed her lips to it.

He tugged her back into his arms. “Life doesn’t come without risk.”

“I’m sorry.” She wiped her cheek. “I’m an emotional mess tonight.”

“You need sleep. It’s a wonder you’re still conscious. Close your eyes. Whatever happens in the morning, we’ll face it together.”

Exhausted and spent, she rested her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her close. Despite the uncertainty that lurked outside the door, here and now, in his arms, she felt safe and whole for the first time in years.

What she felt for Lance was as strong and simple and pure as a beam of sunlight cutting through storm clouds.

Was it love? It just might be.

She was certain about one thing. Anything bad that happened to her would be more bearable because of his presence. She was stronger with him than she was alone.

She lifted her head. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in a deep rhythm. She closed her own eyes. Thoughts of love shifted to Tim and Chelsea. The sheriff had said he would call them to let them know about the arrests of the Burns brothers. Morgan wondered how Chelsea was taking the news. Was she relieved? Did she believe it was over? Was she being comforted by her husband tonight?

Even in sleep, Morgan’s brain refused to let go of the inconsistencies of the case that she’d noted at the salvage yard.

A few hours later, she woke. Morning had broken. Pale sunshine filtered through the blinds, casting stripes of shadow and soft light across the bed.

Something wasn’t lining up so neatly in her mind.

She slid out of bed, donned the borrowed sweatpants and T-shirt, and tiptoed into the kitchen. She scanned the counters. No coffee machine. Why hadn’t she noticed the absence in her previous visits to Lance’s house? He didn’t drink coffee regularly, but surely he must have a machine somewhere in case of an emergency.

Like now.

Her head ached for caffeine. Yes. She was an addict.

She checked his cabinets but found no sign of coffee. She’d have to wait until he woke up. With a sigh, she gave up, took her files into the living room, and spread them across the coffee table.