Mine to Have (Mine #5)(50)

But he didn’t move. He waited, for her.

Elizabeth stared up at him. Elizabeth on her knees before him—her eyes tinted with desire and her cheeks flushed as she leaned toward him—that was probably the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Then her lips touched him and his eyes squeezed shut. Fuck.

Her hands were still around him, pumping his flesh. Bringing his desire to a feverish intensity, but her mouth—oh, hell, yes, her mouth had closed around the tip of his cock. A wet, hot heaven as she sucked him. Her name broke from him as a frenzied growl when Elizabeth took him in even deeper, moving her head now in a rhythm designed to absolutely shred his control.

His hands were on her shoulders. Holding her far too tightly. He forced his eyes open because he wanted to see her, and, hell, yes, she was even sexier now. Moving with sensuality as she licked and caressed and—

I can’t take anymore.

He lifted her up.

“Saxon, no, I wasn’t finished—”

He put her on the bed. When she reached out for him again, he managed to bark, “Don’t.”

She froze.

Only a thin sliver of his control remained.

He stripped while her eyes stayed on him. Such deep, green eyes. The first time he’d seen her eyes, he’d known then that—

“Oh, Saxon.”

His shirt had hit the floor. Her gaze took in the wounds that were now fresh scars.

She moved to the edge of the bed. Her fingers were trembling when she reached out to touch one of the long, red scars. “You nearly died because of me.”

For you. There was a difference, but he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear that yet. “Protecting you was my job.”

There were tears in her eyes. Tears. He didn’t like to see her beautiful eyes filled with tears. He wanted to see the desire again. The need for him. Not tears.

“We should be careful,” she whispered, “We should—”

His lips took hers, and he wasn’t careful. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t controlled. He had the one thing he wanted most, and he wasn’t about to let go.

Or waste a moment being careful.

He tumbled her back on the bed. Caught her hands in one of his and pinned them above her head. Then his free hand went down and pushed up her skirt. All day, he’d known that she wasn’t wearing panties. Those torn panties had been safely secured in his drawer, and she’d been bare.

He touched her silken flesh now. Pushed his fingers into her sex even as he kissed her. She was wet for him. Wet and ready and there was no going back for him.

“Don’t move,” Saxon ordered her.

Her breath seemed to catch.

He lifted up, and he didn’t bother unbuttoning her shirt—he just yanked it open. Buttons flew, and he didn’t care. He’d buy her another blouse, maybe one that matched her ripped panties. An emerald color to go with her eyes? Buy her anything. Everything.

The sexy black bra she wore was pure temptation. It lifted her breasts up toward him, an offering that he’d never refuse. He kissed her through that lace, then he shoved the bra out of his way and took her nipple into his mouth.

“Saxon!”

He sucked her harder. Scored her with his teeth.

And he parted her legs. He positioned his cock at the entrance of her body. She was so incredibly soft and hot and when he thrust into her, Saxon nearly lost his mind.

He angled his body down, making sure that every thrust of his hips pushed him against her clit. She moaned for him and twisted beneath him. Saxon licked her other breast. Her nipple was tight and hard. So very perfect.

He withdrew. Thrust deeper.

He had her underneath him in that four-poster bed. He was in her so deep and her sex was a tight glove. She was whispering his name, her nails were digging in his back.

There were no fears. No hesitations. No questions.

Just a white-hot desire that burned right through everything else.

She came for him. He felt the ripples of her release all around his cock even as she arched up against him and gasped out his name.

Then he let go. He drove into her again and again. The bed thudded into the wall, the frame seemed to shake beneath them, and he didn’t care. He didn’t give a fuck about anything—

But, well, fucking her.

Deeper, harder. The desire consumed him. He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. He could only feel her and when the climax hit him, Saxon was lost. The pleasure beat through him, so powerful and consuming that nothing else mattered. He held on to her as tightly as he could.

And when the pleasure finally ebbed, when the aftershocks stopped running through their bodies, he finished stripping. He tucked her under the covers and then slid in the bed beside her.

He’d slept in countless hotels, dozens of apartments, hell, he’d even slept on the street—both before and during his undercover days.

But as his eyes drifted closed right then, as Elizabeth curled her body around his, this time—this bed—this place—it was the first time that he’d ever felt as if he were sleeping…at home.

***

Victor had spent years cultivating contacts—some on the right side of the law and some on the wrong. So when he needed intel on a dead prisoner, he got that intel. And when he needed to learn more about a missing woman…he had full access to her records.

So just hours after he left the prison, he knew that Zoe Peters was a twenty-seven-year-old, ex-Vegas showgirl who’d packed up all her belongings and moved to a little town in South Carolina—a place called Bluff. Only a few weeks after moving to the town, she’d vanished.