‘I won’t,’ he promised, a smile in his voice, then went back down on her, sucking her clit as he worked in a third finger.
She wasn’t feeling calm and quiet any more. The need to come was spiraling upward, and she arched, needing to move. ‘Thorne, now. Please. I’m ready.’
He paused to look at her, and she could see his amusement in the dim light. ‘I’m not,’ he said. ‘You’re impatient.’
‘Damn right.’ She swiveled her hips, trying to entice him, and he groaned.
‘Impatient and mean,’ he said.
‘Impatient and impatient,’ she corrected, wriggling against his fingers. ‘I’m five seconds from doing this myself.’
Chuckling, he took a final lick, then pulled his fingers free and crawled up her body, his huge muscles rolling, his body sleek and graceful. She widened her legs to give him room. He planted his fists on either side of her head and rubbed up against her sensitized flesh.
‘Thorne,’ she moaned. ‘Come on.’
‘Shh,’ he murmured. ‘Let me.’
She opened her eyes and met his, and her heart stuttered. There was the look, the one she’d wanted to fall into and never leave. ‘Yes.’
He hummed deep in his throat. ‘Yes what?’
She smiled at him, letting go of the bars to brush her fingers over his cheeks. ‘Whatever you want.’
He shuddered, hard. ‘I want it all. All of you.’ Canting his hips, he positioned himself and slid inside, and she cried out, filled again.
She’d never felt this full, not with anyone else. Not just her body, but her heart. Her soul, connected to his. And it was glorious. Her eyes abruptly stung and she blinked hard, feeling the tears slide down her face and into her hair.
Immediately he froze. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No.’ She cupped his face. ‘No. It’s . . . perfect. You’re perfect.’
He shuddered again. ‘So tight. God. Not gonna last long.’ He surged into her harder, picking up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, lifting into him, meeting each thrust. Her orgasm built and built until suddenly it was there, crashing over her like a wave on the shore, stealing her breath, leaving her shaking and gasping his name.
He held himself perfectly still as she spasmed around him, then groaned, deep and guttural, as his own body whiplashed, his thrusts growing frantic and uncontrolled.
She could only watch, exhausted. Mesmerized. He’s beautiful.
He threw his head back, arching until his body stretched taut above hers, like a powerful god rising from the sea. And she could feel him lose himself, feel him throbbing inside her, feel the heat of his come as it filled her as surely as he had.
He collapsed then, his trembling arms giving out. He caught himself, bracing his forearms on the mattress as violent shudders shook his body.
‘Oh God,’ he panted. He dropped his head, his hair tickling her cheek. ‘Gwyn.’
She lifted a tired hand to stroke his hair. ‘Thank you.’
He huffed a laugh. ‘I think I’m supposed to thank you.’
She trailed her fingers down his face to the back of his neck, now hot and sweaty. And still perfect. ‘Not just for the sex.’ Her lips curved. ‘Although that was amazing. Thank you for giving me back myself. I was so afraid for so long that I’d never be able to be like this again. And I couldn’t have been with anyone but you.’
He kissed her then, so sweetly and full of joy. ‘I love you.’
Her sigh was simple contentment. ‘I love you too.’
With a little groan, he slid out and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She let herself be arranged how he wanted her, which was exactly how she’d woken up, sprawled across his chest, one of his big hands on her butt. Her ear to his heart.
This was peace. And she’d take it for as long as she could. Which would be until morning, if they were lucky.
Hunt Valley, Maryland,
Thursday 16 June, 8.30 A.M.
Peace lasted until midway through breakfast. Seated at Clay’s kitchen table and practically swimming in Stevie’s too-big ‘pre-baby’ clothes, Gwyn was starting her second cup of coffee and tabbing through the news coverage online.
‘Well?’ Jamie asked, pointing to her laptop.
She shrugged. ‘It’s a mixed bag, although it looks like public opinion is starting to swing our way. Tavilla himself hasn’t been named as a suspect, probably because Joseph and Hyatt want all their ducks in a row first.’
‘They need to fucking hurry up,’ Frederick grumbled.
Thorne came in from the study, a frustrated frown on his face, and Gwyn patted the empty chair next to her. ‘Colton Brandenberg still isn’t answering?’
‘No.’ He slumped into the chair. ‘Neither is Nystrom or Christina Brandenberg. Thanks,’ he added when Frederick filled his coffee cup. ‘JD’s on the phone with Hyatt. They’re going to be circulating the photo of the baby in Laura’s Facebook photos to area pediatricians. They’re positioning it as a possible child endangerment case because she’s implicated in the murder of two Circus Freaks members. They recognized her as one of Tavilla’s operatives who’d tried to infiltrate their gang, and then they were dead. It’s a circumstantial link at best, but enough for BPD to try to find her through the baby.’
Gwyn blinked in surprise. ‘Alistair will verify that she tried to infiltrate the Freaks?’
Thorne snorted. ‘Hell, no. But Prew did, at least that the murdered men knew her. Remember, he followed them after Ming and Mowry tossed them out of the club Sunday night. Prew remembered them talking about the bartender, and when they called their boss, they asked if they should bring her in. Hyatt’s not thrilled with approaching this as a child endangerment, but it sounds like he’s cooperating at least.’
‘Too little, too late,’ Gwyn muttered. ‘Would have helped if he’d told us about the EMT’s murder himself. Makes me wonder what other secrets he’s keeping.’
‘A few,’ a new voice said, and they all looked up to see Joseph Carter coming through the kitchen doorway, Clay right behind him. Joseph looked disgruntled, but Clay seemed a little smug.
‘Joseph,’ Thorne said with a nod. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I came to get you,’ he said, then gave Clay a sour look. ‘You didn’t have to search my briefcase.’
‘I had Alec scan Joseph and his briefcase for listening devices,’ Clay said, a twinkle in his eyes. He and Joseph were close, but they seemed to take great delight in needling one another. ‘Anything that comes in or out gets scanned. No exceptions.’
Joseph rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus,’ he muttered. ‘Can I at least have some coffee?’
Thorne gave it to him, stone-faced. ‘What other secrets?’
Joseph sat down and took a big gulp, wincing because it was hot. ‘Nystrom is dead. You can stop calling him.’
Thorne flinched, then closed his eyes. ‘Fuck. How?’
‘Quite painfully, I’d imagine.’ Joseph shook his head. ‘One of those things that I wish I could unsee.’ He tilted his head. ‘How many medals did you have in high school, anyway?’
Thorne gave him a look of bewildered irritation. ‘What?’ Then his shoulders sagged. ‘He had one of my medals in him?’
‘Yep. And not much else.’ Joseph took another gulp of coffee, grimacing. ‘Let’s just say that I have not had a pleasant morning, and leave it at that.’
‘Where was he found?’ Clay asked.
‘In his house. He wasn’t killed there, though. His cell phone records show that he called Hyatt last night. It was his last outgoing call.’
‘JD gave him Hyatt’s card,’ Thorne said. ‘Told him to call if he needed help. I gave him my card, but he ripped it up.’
‘He waited too long to call Hyatt,’ Joseph said. ‘But you were good to try to help him, Thorne.’