Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(66)

She tightened her thighs around his hips and squeezed with every ounce of energy she had left over. “You look at me, too. I don’t want to escape you.” The words were choppy because she could hardly draw enough breath to release them. Connor’s head immediately snapped up, eyes blazing down into hers. Something inside her relaxed and spun wildly all at once. Again she wished her hands were free so she could reach up and grip the strands of his hair. He needed her. Needed touch, even if he might think he wanted control more. “Show me where you come, baby. Show me how. Let me have it. I need it.”

He fell on her with a jagged groan, hips pumping once, twice, before his entire body began to quake. When a man his size shook, everything shook. Erin convulsed right along with him; their bodies were skin to skin, so close that not a breath of air separated them. Feeling his orgasm rock him almost sent her spiraling into an aftershock. She suspected that if her arms were free to hold him, it would have happened. As it was, she could only lie there and absorb his heaving breaths, his elevated body heat. It was glorious. She never wanted to leave this spot. Could live here for all eternity, just pillowing Connor’s body with her own.

Connor seemed to come back to himself, then. His head dislodged from the crook of her neck, hands flying up to disconnect her from the bed frame. “Tell me you’re okay. Tell me.”

One hand came free, but it fell uselessly beside her on the bed. She shook it frantically, trying to move life into it. Where a moment ago, Connor’s eyes held such command, now they were shadowed and she needed to reassure him. Amazing that she, someone whom no one had ever turned to for support, was now…needed. Even through the urgency to take away Connor’s worry, she felt a burst of something like pride. She finally got her hand to work and laid it against his jaw. “I’m better than okay. Look at me.”

Connor’s glazed-over eyes finally focused on her. He shook his head. “Okay? No. You’re f*cking beautiful.” His throat worked. “I need you to promise if I ever go too far, you’ll tell me. If I ever did something to scare you or send you away, I’d—”

“Baby, I’m an arsonist with extreme claustrophobia and a jealous streak.” She finally ran her fingers through his hair and savored his sigh. “I think it’s safe to say we’re holding an even amount of scary playing cards.”

His eyes crinkled at the sides, and she almost swooned over how f*cking adorable it made him look. Was this really the same man who’d just spanked her? She nestled down into the pillows and held her arms out to him. He didn’t hesitate to align his naked body with hers and tuck her against his chest.

“Play any card you want, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m not budging.”





Chapter Twenty-One


Connor and Erin sat across the street from Tucker May’s house, watching his wife receive a furniture delivery. Sera had managed to get the license plate number of the SUV that continued to pull up outside Stark’s campaign headquarters, and a quick search had led them here. Derek wanted to know why the seemingly distraught Mrs. May continued to make her presence known at headquarters and what was being delivered to her curbside each time. Connor had a good idea, especially considering the high-end name on the delivery truck. Money was exchanging hands. They just needed to figure out why and prove it.

Erin rolled the passenger-side window down, causing a breeze to lift the blond hair from her shoulders. Her scent crossed the car to sucker punch him, and Connor’s groin tightened on cue. There would be no getting enough of this girl. With each passing minute, his desire for her built like an out-of-control hurricane. He’d woken this morning to find her worshipping his morning wood with long licks and kisses, murmuring husky praise against his stomach, jacking him off in her fist. Fuck. He’d managed a strangled request to finish inside her *, but she’d refused to let up. Holding him down with a hand on his abs, pulling hard with her mouth, and moaning, as if she couldn’t stop.

She drummed her fingers on the armrest, dragging him from the memory. “May’s wife must know what happened to her husband. Taking payouts to keep quiet, maybe?”

He dragged his head out of the gutter and focused. When he adjusted himself in his pants, she gave him a sexy, knowing smile, which didn’t help at all. “Yeah. She doesn’t exactly appear to be the grieving widow. Derek interviewed some friends of the family, people at church. They wouldn’t have won couple of the year, but staying quiet about your husband being killed is a whole other level.”

“You never know what’s happening behind closed doors.”

Something in her voice tugged a chord in his chest. They needed to talk about her stepfather, even if it meant shattering the peace of the morning. Before last night, he’d known there would never be anyone else for him. Not as long as he lived. But the way she’d sacrificed the freedom she required in order to satisfy him, to prove she wouldn’t leave again…he’d simply never be the same. He’d woken up feeling different. Weighed down with purpose in a good way. She had given herself to him, and he wouldn’t take that responsibility lightly. Because he belonged to her, too. If something happened to her, they would both suffer. What he’d gone through when she’d gone missing, but multiplied by a thousand. He needed to prevent that outcome at all costs.

“If you think any harder, smoke is going to come out of your ears,” she commented without looking at him. “How about I save you the trouble and just tell you what happened?”