On a groan, he fell forward, bracing himself above her with one hand and grabbing her shoulder with the other, his hips flying. The change in position pushed him deeper inside her and dragged his body tight and hard over her clit. God, the way he moved, like a great wave rolling up over her, covering her, claiming her. She was awash in sensation—the incredible fullness between her legs, his heat on her skin, his tight grip. “So fucking good,” he said, meeting and holding her gaze. His face was all hard angles and utterly appealing. “I can’t hold back.”
She smiled. “Don’t try to.”
Holding her tight, he hammered into her, and then he unleashed a guttural shout and came. His muscles rigid, he moved through the orgasm, pulsing inside her, the ecstasy of his expression one of the most erotic things she’d ever seen.
His whole body went loose and he eased his chest atop hers, his forehead resting on hers with his eyes closed. For a moment, they lay like that, their breathing evening out, their bodies cooling. She stroked her hands over his sides and back.
She would hold him like this all day.
So much for waiting until after all this was over. But Becca couldn’t bring herself to regret being with him, because it made her feel all the more that they were in this thing together.
He kissed her, a gentle show of appreciation, then he pushed himself up and withdrew.
Becca frowned. Because the withdrawal wasn’t just physical. As he dealt with the condom and tugged his jeans on again, he didn’t look at her, didn’t talk to her, wouldn’t meet her gaze. She pushed into a sitting position and hugged her knees in front of her. “Hey,” she said.
“We should get moving. You want the shower first or should I?”
NICK AND BECCA sat on either side of the sketch artist in Miguel’s office as the image of her attacker came to life in black and white. The guy was good—had to give him that. And, thank fuck, because at least something was going right for him so far today.
Rixey shifted in his seat and chanced a glance at Becca, who’d worn a frown on her pretty face ever since he’d shut down on her after they’d had sex. Damn incredible sex. But, goddamnit, he hadn’t meant for that to happen. She’d just been so warm, and sexy, and honest about what she’d wanted, what she’d been feeling. It had felt so good not to be alone. He hadn’t been able to hold back. And he’d done exactly what he’d said he wouldn’t.
Too much stood between them, things he couldn’t and shouldn’t say. And he was far too fucked in the head with grief and loss and guilt. She deserved so much fucking better than that, than him. When his brain had come back online, he’d been so angry at himself he’d barely been able to breathe. Still was. And just like he’d said, Becca was paying the price by being hurt and confused. No fucking hero here, that was for sure.
Problem was, he wanted more with her. Maybe he even wanted it all with her. Bringing her pleasure and seeing her shatter in his arms had given him such satisfaction, like making her happy gave him some kind of meaning in what had become a meaningless existence. If he thought he’d felt close to her last night, it was nothing compared to what sharing her body made him feel.
Whole. Lighter. Not alone.
Sonofabitch. After all the ways he’d failed others he cared about, he wasn’t worthy of feeling the solace she gave.
And if fucking up with Becca wasn’t bad enough, the team had been as pissy with him this morning as they’d been last night. At least they’d gone their separate ways to put their plan into action, with Easy going to the airport to pick up Marz and Shane and Beckett canvassing Charlie’s neighbors. So, until they all met up again, he had a short reprieve from the guys.
But Becca was a different story. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make that snafu better, or whether he even should. It sucked ass to contemplate, but maybe he should just allow the discomfort to fester between them. It’d make it a helluva lot easier to keep his dick and his hands in check if she wasn’t looking at him with those bright blue eyes so filled with invitation and interest. Now, when they looked at him at all, they were filled with hurt and regret.
And damn if that didn’t give him a major check to the gut.
“All right,” the artist said. “What do you think of him now? Any changes?”
They leaned in and Rixey looked to Becca. She returned the glance. It was the first time she’d met his eyes since she’d slid off his bed and walked naked out of his bedroom, her body still flush and so beautiful in the morning light. He nodded.
A moment later, her eyes pulled away from him and focused on the sketch. “That’s him.”
“I agree,” Nick said. The bastard’s face was clear in his mind. But little else. “Becca, what about tattoos? Any chance you remember any of the guy’s tats?”
“He had a lot of them on his arms and neck.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. That little frown took up residence between her brows. When her eyes opened again, she shook her head. “I first noticed him when he crossed the room. I saw the tattoos, but I wasn’t really paying attention, you know?”
“Anything at all could be useful,” Rixey said. “Don’t worry about remembering everything.”