He couldn’t resist such a plea. Maneuvering above her, holding himself with his arm to keep from crushing her, he slowly shoved inside her. He had to move in and out several times to get her body to accept him, finally burying himself balls deep.
The sensation of her internal walls gripping him nearly stole his control. He breathed out evenly to keep from pounding into her.
She moaned and wrapped both arms around his shoulders. “Take me away. Please.”
He kissed her, taking her deep, showing her with his body what he couldn’t give in words yet. Slowly, sensually, he moved in and out, enjoying each little catch of her breath and the internal rippling of her muscles pulsing around his shaft.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and the little bite of pain almost sent him over.
Clasping her hips, he pulled her up every time he shoved into her, moving her with his rhythm. She allowed him full control, her thighs tensing against his hips, her soft cries filling his heart.
He increased his rhythm, the sound of flesh against flesh competing with the headboard hitting the wall.
She held tighter, her body stiffening.
Angling just a little, he brushed over her clit, and she detonated. She cried out his name, waves battering through her and against him, her core tightening around him with a strength that had him thrusting hard and holding her in place. His balls swelled, electricity danced down his spine, and he came hard.
Finally, she went limp beneath him, her arms sliding away.
Turning to his side, he dragged her close and wrapped himself around her. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”
Her breathing evened out, and seconds later, she fell asleep. He allowed himself the luxury of holding her for nearly an hour, making sure she was far into dreamland.
Keeping the covers wrapped snuggly around her, he slid from the bed and stood, surveying her.
In peace, in sleep, her face lost the cop look. The bruises on her fair skin were an insult. Her hands on the blanket were small, delicate, and she barely made a shape under the heavy bedclothes.
Determination straightened his spine as he vowed the bruises would be returned ten-fold. She was his, and it was his duty to keep her safe. Whether she liked it or not. It was time to go hunting for the witch who’d dared to hurt her.
When Kell found him . . . and he would . . . there would be no mercy.
Chapter 24
Lex awoke slowly, stretching in luxurious sheets, aches springing to life along her entire body. She sat up, her head muddled, her face aching. Memories zipped through her mind, and she glanced around Kellach’s bedroom.
Her phone had been placed near the bed, and she instantly called the hospital for an update. The on duty nurse informed her that Bernie had improved slightly and that Masterson was about to be discharged.
She clicked off the call and ran a hand through her short hair.
The previous night, she’d meant to dig into Kell and get the full truth about the witches, and instead, she’d cried all over him and then pretty much begged him for sex.
God. She was such a girly wimp all of a sudden. Enough. Swinging her legs from the bed, she took inventory of each bruise, nick, and pain. That bastard witch who’d dared harm Bernie was going to pay and pay good.
She eyed a set of clothing on a dresser. Designer jeans, green cashmere sweater, incredibly shiny brown boots that made her sigh. All with tags on.
Her head jerked up. Kellach Dunne did not get to buy her clothes. Dressed only in the threadbare T-shirt, she marched out of the room to give him a piece of her mind. A quick stomp around the penthouse revealed a note left in the kitchen.
Alexandra,
I’m hoping you sleep the day away, but if not, you must eat. There are eggs, bacon, and fruit in the fridge. I have a lead on the witch and am tracking it down. You’re to stay here until I return.
Thank you.
Kellach
She frowned and twirled the note around. It was an order. A very clear order for her to stay in place. Wow. The guy hadn’t figured her out a bit. Turning on her heel, she hurried back to the bedroom and changed into the borrowed clothes. The cashmere made her groan at the decadent comfort, which meant she had to figure out a way to pay him back for the clothes.
Well, one thing at a time. Though she couldn’t find her ruined clothing since he’d probably thrown it away, she did find her gun and badge resting on the bathroom counter. Tucking the gun into her waist, she borrowed a toothbrush and hairbrush to make herself presentable.
Without any makeup, she appeared too pale, and add in the bruises, she appeared to be a victim of a good beating or a disastrous car wreck. Either way, she didn’t look like a cop—which was unfortunate, considering it was time to visit her father and figure out what the hell was going on. He had a lot of explaining to do about keeping in contact with not only her mother but with Spike. Hell, maybe he even knew where Spike would hole up after shooting a cop.