Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(72)

He eased on top of her, using his knees to push her legs apart as her rested his weight on his arms and kissed her—starting with her mouth, then sliding down her neck and lingering at her breasts. He’d obviously noticed how sensitive they were, and he stayed there teasing and licking and suckling her until she was writhing under him, dizzy with need. She arched up, pressing her hips against him.

“Sean,” she said, hoping he heard the impatience in her voice.

He pulled away and sat back on his knees, watching her intently as he pulled on the condom. Then he stretched out over her and entered her body with a powerful stroke that had her gasping.

He adjusted her legs and did it again, and she tipped her head back and slid her hands up his back. He felt good, so amazingly perfect inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him as close as she possibly could as he drove into her again and again, making the bed shake. She tipped her head back and tried to keep up with him as he hammered into her.

“Brooke . . .” His voice was strained and the muscles of his shoulders bunched under her hands. She clenched herself around him as hard as she could and felt herself start to come.

“Yes. Yes, Sean, yes.”

He thrust into her again, and she saw stars behind her eyes and the orgasm blazed through her.

He groaned and collapsed, catching his weight on his elbows as he buried his face against her hair.

She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She could barely breathe with his body pinning her beneath him. Then he pushed up on his palms and stared down at her, breathing hard.

“Did I hurt you?”

“What? No.”

He gazed down at her for a moment, then rolled onto his back, closing his eyes and dropping his arm over his face.

She propped on an elbow and looked at him, taking a moment to catch her breath, too. She had no idea what he was thinking right now, and when he let his arm flop onto the bed, he looked dazed and winded and, yes, still stressed-out.

“Hey.”

He turned to look at her.

She trailed her finger along the stubble covering his jaw. “I’m sorry you were upset earlier.”

His face tightened. He sat up on his elbows, and she could tell he wasn’t ready for the past tense. He was still upset with her.

He got up and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, then returned and tossed a pair of throw pillows to the floor. He stretched out next to her and pulled her against him, nestling her head against his chest.

“You’re not sorry for going behind my back and meddling in my case, though, right?”

Now she wished she hadn’t brought this up so soon. She could have at least waited until they were dressed again, or under the covers, or something, rather than lying here naked together.

“I told you. I took a calculated risk that I believe was warranted by the situation.”

He looked at her. “Again, we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”

What, exactly, was happening here? His responses were all over the map.

“Let’s drop it.”

“You mean that?”

He sighed. “I’m resigned to the fact that you don’t want me or anyone else telling you what to do.”

She tipped her head back and ran her fingertip over his jaw again, watching the tension in his face.

“But you’re still angry.”

“Yes.” He stared up at the ceiling, then looked down at her. “The thought of something happening to you—” He shook his head, as though he couldn’t find the words.

Emotion swelled inside her. “I know.”

He looked at her.

“This summer when I heard you’d been shot . . . I couldn’t breathe. I felt like my heart was being squeezed in a big fist.” She settled her cheek against his side, and for a long, quiet moment they just lay there.

Sean ran his fingers through her hair, and she closed her eyes to enjoy it. She loved the way he touched her. She loved the way he made her feel cared for, but not weak.

“Brooke?”

“Hmm?”

“How come you never said anything about coming by my hospital room?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “You knew?”

“I saw you.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was in and out.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t know.”

She’d gone to the hospital without even deciding to. As soon as she’d heard what happened to him, she hadn’t been able to stay away.

She couldn’t explain it now any better than she could then.

“I don’t know why I never said anything.” Her words sounded inadequate, even to her. “When I was there, I thought you were out cold. And later . . . I thought you might think it was weird. It wasn’t like we knew each other that well then.”

He pulled her closer. “I’m glad you came.”

“Why?”

“Gave me something good to think about when I was ready to throw in the towel on my physical therapy.”

Her chest tightened. “Was it bad?”

“Excruciating.”

She stroked her hand over his pecs, hating that he’d had to go through that. She knew that he’d worried he might never make a full recovery, and she’d been elated for him when she heard he was back on the job.