Mine to Have (Mine #5)(40)

Then she had to jerk out of his hold. She tried to take a few fast and frantic steps away from him, but Saxon caught her. He spun her around and yanked her right back up against him.

“Make no mistake,” he told her, his voice a hard growl, “Saxon Black is dead. Saxon Black, Saxon Marshall, Saxon Smith…every fucking alias I used when I was undercover with the FBI—they’re all dead.”

His body was pressed tightly to hers. She could feel his muscles, his strength. There was no sign of pain on his face. But the last time she’d seen him, Saxon had barely been clinging to life.

Because of me.

“You already know I was working my last case for Vic down in Miami. I was set to start a new life,” he told her. “This life. I picked the place. I planned for years. Hell, I bought this place with the money I earned working jobs you don’t ever want to know about.”

The winery was his? She shook her head. “They sent me here—”

“Vic sent you to me.” His gaze was so dark as it spread over her face and that was when she realized—

He’s different.

It wasn’t just the suit he wore, one that looked as if it had been custom made for his muscled frame. Or the new cut of his hair—a cut that swept back his thick hair—hair that appeared so much darker now. The new style and darkness somehow made his face look less rough and dangerous, and more sensual, elegant.

When she stared up at him, she wasn’t seeing the deadly lover who’d saved her before in Miami. She wasn’t really sure who she was seeing at all.

Michael Laurent?

He’d just rattled off too many other aliases for her. The guy had spent his life undercover. Who was he, really?

And did it even matter?

Because right then, she was so freaking happy—she threw her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could. Tears wanted to fall from her eyes, but Elizabeth blinked them away. “I was so afraid you’d die.” She would never forget those terrifying moments on that chopper. She squeezed him even tighter. “Oh, God, I was scared—”

And he was kissing her. Kissing her hard and deep and wild. Kissing her like Saxon—her Saxon. He lifted her up against him, held her easily, and the tight band around her heart—the band she’d carried for two, long weeks—finally seemed to ease.

Her hands were around his neck. His hands were on her hips. He was walking with her in his grasp, still kissing her, still driving that wonderful tongue of his into her mouth, and she wanted to devour him right then and there. She. Wanted. Him.

Saxon put her on the desk. Shoved paperwork aside and pushed right between her legs. The skirt she’d been wearing hiked up, and his hands—those rough, callused hands—curled around her thighs.

“Fucking missed you…” he rasped against her mouth. “Missed…fucking…you…” His right hand rose and curled around the crotch of her panties.

It felt like everything was moving at super speed, one hundred miles an hour—two hundred—and she didn’t care.

Saxon. Saxon!

He ripped her panties out of the way. Tossed them aside. Then his fingers were pushing into her sex.

Her hands slammed down behind her on the desk. Her head tipped back as she tried to gulp in some desperately needed air. Her heart was thudding in her chest and her sex—it was closing greedily around his fingers.

His thumb pressed to her clit. Stroking her so perfectly. One night, but he’d learned her body’s secrets. He knew exactly what to do in order to make her—

“Not yet, baby,” he said as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her throat. “I need to taste you first. All of you.”

Then he was on his knees before her. His hands pulled her to the edge of the desk. Her skirt was up high, exposing her fully to him. Saxon glanced up at her. Licked his lips. Then he put his mouth on her sex. No hesitation. Just taking. With his tongue and his mouth and his fingers.

Pleasure hit her, slamming through her whole body as the orgasm rolled over her and had her gasping his name—and pressing her sex even closer to him.

The contractions of her sex wouldn’t stop. The pleasure wouldn’t end and he was rising. Unzipping his pants. Positioning his cock and then driving hard into her.

Her breath caught at that deep plunge. And time finally just—stopped.

No more super speed. There was only stillness. A moment frozen as she stared into his eyes. Elizabeth saw the need, the dark, fierce passion reflected in his stare.

He bent his head and kissed her. Her hands rose and curled around his shoulders even as her legs locked around his hips. She wanted to hold him as tightly as she could. To never let go.

The pleasure hadn’t ended, and when he started thrusting, moving in a rhythm that was hard and demanding, a moan pulled from her lips. Her sex was swollen and sensitive, and every movement of his body had her aching.

He was kissing her neck again. Kissing that spot along the column of her throat that made her quiver.

“Couldn’t…let you go…” Another hard thrust. “Fucking…couldn’t…” And, if possible, he got even bigger inside of her. He’d stretched her so much that there should have been pain, but there was only pleasure.

Only Saxon.

He withdrew, plunged deep, and she opened her mouth to scream because the release was that violent.