Chapter 37

Ash was in big,fucking trouble.

This revelation came to him a nanosecond too late. But a battalion of semiautomatics pointed at his head couldn’t force him to reverse course.

Only one person had that power, and Ash prayed to every version of the Almighty that Kayla wouldn’t deny him, deny them this moment.

The kiss started slow, tentative, then exploring, consuming. He gripped the sides of the sofa’s cushion with both hands, letting her set the pace. Though he applied the slightest pressure against her lips, her tongue, letting her know he was all-in, ready to hit the accelerator.

Much to his amazement, so was she.

With pressure of her own, she urged him back into the crook of the sofa, prowling on all fours, until she hovered over him. She braced her right hand on the sofa, near his head, while her left methodically unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Being the helpful lover he was, he dragged the tails of his shirt from his dress pants. He hissed out a curse and nearly jacked her over the side of their makeshift bed when the backs of her fingers brushed against his hardness.

“Problem?” she teased, between one sultry kiss and another.

“Yeah,” he growled, “we’re not naked.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work faster.”

She moved from his lips to the sensitive hollow of his throat. Her tongue and mouth took turns, exploring the expanse of his chest. She laved his right nipple, then rolled it beneath her thumb until it was hard and aching. Sitting back on her heels, she scraped her nails down the center of his torso.

His toes curled, and his hips lifted, seeking her warmth, needing the connection.

Ash’s control was slipping.

A mantra started up in his lizard brain, and he didn’t know how much longer he could remain in this passive state.

Enter her. Enter her. Enter her.

More than anything in this world, more than his next promotion, more than finding the governor’s killer, more than making amends with Zeke, he wanted to be balls-deep in Kayla-fucking-Krowne.

“Are we doing this, beautiful?”

Surprise flared in her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Just checking.” He surged forward, kissed her hard, and in an impressive feat of strength, he lifted her into his arms and stormed toward his bedroom.

“Impatient, are we?” she laughed, circling her arms around his neck.

Impatient didn’t come close. The level of urgency firing his muscles was unprecedented. He wanted her naked and screaming his name before logic prevailed over lust.

Once they reached his bed, he lowered her feet to the floor. She gave his bedroom a quick scan, taking in the starkness of it.

Outside of the furniture and a single memento from home, the room was unadorned. The outer rooms weren’t much better. The only difference was a couple green plants he’d somehow managed to keep alive.

They toed off their shoes and alternately unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped each other’s and their own clothes until there were no more physical barriers between them.

Ash slowed his raging heart long enough to take in the woman who’d haunted his dreams for months. His imagination had not done her justice.

When he reached out, he realized his hand was shaking. He curled it into a fist, then unfurled his index and middle fingers enough to slide the backs against the base of her throat, down her chest, between breasts that would fill his hands, along her smooth stomach to the light brown patch at the apex of her legs.

Her breath caught, and she grasped the back of his neck, bringing him down for a mind-melting kiss. A millennium might have passed before she pulled back, he didn’t know. All he recalled of that moment was hearing the three most beautiful words in the human language.

“Enough foreplay, G-man.”

Ash’s answeringgrin made Kayla’s heart light up in a way she’d never thought possible. Her body’s reaction was fleeting, for her special agent hooked his big, capable hands beneath her arms, lifted her until she wrapped her legs around his lean waist.

She pressed her heated, wet center against his scalding length. The fiery touch untethered his invisible restraints.

Mouths fused, their tongues tangled and writhed together, searching, priming.

In two erotic steps, he was at the side of the bed, bending forward until her back rested against the soft, cool duvet. Then he lifted his head, his eyes clashed with hers, burning with need.

“Last chance,” he whispered.

She reached between them, guided his smooth, blunt tip to her entrance. “No regrets.”

“Never.”

Then he was inside her, over her, with her.

She cradled his massive body in her arms. Her hands smoothing, gripping, clawing to the pinnacle. She shattered into a mosaic of a thousand stunning pieces.

Tightening her inner muscles, she kissed-licked her way from the hollow of his neck to the indent beneath his chin. Her name ripped from his throat on a final thrust before he jerked free.

They lay clasped together for a long minute, then he shifted onto his elbows, easing some of his weight. A knuckle traced the line of her jaw, the edge of her lower lip. A smile played at the corners of his mouth before he bent to kiss her forehead, her nose, her left eyelid, and finally her mouth.

“Do. Not. Move,” he ordered in a soft, sexy tone, before rolling away and striding into the bathroom.

She turned her head and watched the play of muscles moving beneath all that gorgeous flesh. The moment seemed almost ethereal. Real, but not. Imagined, but solid.

The sound of running water reached her, and she allowed her attention to wander around his bedroom. It was as austere as her quick glance upon entering had suggested.

Except for the wooden walking stick propped in one corner. The knotty, somewhat misshapen hiking tool appeared to be DIY. A young tree he’d cut down or a small branch from a large tree. The bark removed and the wood sanded down to prevent splinters.

For some reason, she hadn’t pegged Ash as one of the many weekend trailblazers. Locals, as well as folks from across the nation—the world—enjoyed the region’s vast trail systems, breathtaking waterfalls, and long-range, blue-hazed mountain views.

She’d traversed many of them herself, but none so rugged as to need an assistive stick.

Ash interrupted her musings, carrying a warmed washcloth he used to wipe her clean. It occurred to her then that neither one of them had considered protection.

Something that had never happened to her before. Not even during her fast and furious introduction to sex.

A bolt of fear speared through her as the multitude of consequences flooded her brain. Pregnancy wasn’t among them. She’d been on the pill since her teens.

But STIs?

Her lover kissed her mouth softly before dropping the wet cloth on the floor beside the bed. “Everything all right?”

Plumping the pillows behind her, she sat up, pulling the sheet over her damp, chilled torso. “We were careless.”

He motioned for her to scoot over, then climbed in beside her, drawing her into the center of his corded embrace. Resting a cheek against his chest, she closed her eyes briefly at the press of his lips against the crown of her head.

“I’m sorry, Kayla.” He kissed her hair again. “Logic has never been my friend, where you’re concerned.”

“Finally, something we share.” The tips of her fingers brushed over his chest. “I’m on the pill.”

“Then you have nothing else to fear from me.”

“Same.”

“Do you want children?”

She stilled. Did he just ask?—

“Not with me,” he rushed to clarify. “In general. Are kids part of the Krowne master plan?”

“You think I have one?”

Humor rimmed his voice. “I know you do.”

She kissed his chest. “Children aren’t part of it, but they’re not not part of it, if that makes sense.”

“Weirdly, yes.” His embrace tightened and his fingers made lazy circles on her bare hip. “A busy life and no Mr. Soulmate. Yet.”

“Exactly.” Would Ash be a good father? Husband? She forced her thoughts to safer territory. “I noticed your walking stick. Do you do a lot of hiking?”

The muscles beneath her hand tensed and an uncomfortable silence blanketed them. When he finally spoke, regret edged his words. “Not in a long while.”

“Too busy?” she ventured, knowing instinctively that wasn’t the reason.

“On the fourth Sunday of every month, without fail, my dad would take me and my brothers to a new hiking spot. Sometimes we finished the trail in thirty minutes, sometimes it took us hours.”

“What a great bonding experience. I’m sure you cherish those moments more now than you ever did at the time.”

He rested his cheek against the spot where his lips had been only moments before. “In ways I can’t even articulate.”

“Did your dad make the stick for you?”

He lifted his head. “On our first hike, Dad ordered us to go into the woods and find a five-foot long by one-and-a-half-inch branch.”

Glancing up, she caught his smile. “Boys will be idiot boys?”

“Bigger is always better, right?”

She straightened into a sitting position, brushing her hand over the growing bulge beneath the sheet.

A hiss escaped his lips, and Kayla took pleasure in the effect she had on him. “How old were you?”

“Ten, I think. Phin was a little guy, riding on Dad’s back for the first year or two. But he still had his own wand-sized stick.”

From her conversations with Liv, she knew pancreatic cancer had taken Duke Blackwell’s life thirteen years ago. Ash took over the family towing/repo business and kept it running for eight years until he decided to follow his dream to work for the FBI.

His departure hadn’t set well with Zeke, which seemed to be a sore spot between the two brothers, to this day. It was plain to see why he’d held on to the length of wood all these years. A symbol of family, of unity.

Squeezing her hip, he changed the subject. “Now, about that name . . .”

His meaning didn’t immediately sink in, then she recalled their conversation before their hormones had taken over. Her heart tripped and stumbled before it settled into a steady gallop.

“I want to repeat that I don’t think this person was capable of killing Vicky, yet I don’t want my bias to leave a stone unturned.”

“Noted.”

Kayla took a breath and forced the name out. “Linda Collier.” The walking stick drew her attention. A symbol of a family’s better times. “Vicky’s daughter.”