Page 20 of Collateral Damage

He started to move, pulling and pushing in long, steady strokes, each one dragging another string of praises through his lips.

And Bess took them all. Filed them away for another time. Another place.

Whitt shifted, pushing up to his knees, pulling her legs around his waist as he sank deeper, filling her completely. Every move shoved her higher, stroking the most unbelievably sensitive spot somewhere inside.

“Give it to me, Sweetheart. Give me what I want.” The demand was ragged and rough in her ear as he held her tight, his body rocking into hers. “Come with me.”

A second later he swelled inside her, his dick twitching as a low growl rumbled through his chest. His climax seemed to summon her own, catching Bess and taking her with him over the edge.

She would have gone willingly, because there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he was the kind of man who would catch her.

Whitt’s lips moved over her skin, covering her neck and cheeks in slow sweeps. His dark eyes finally settled over hers. He took a long, slow breath. “I wish—”

Bess pressed one finger to his lips. She couldn’t hear the rest. “Shhh.”

His midnight eyes stayed on hers, hiding nothing. Showing her what he intended to say. It was one more thing she would hold close. A reminder that someday there would be a man who understood her.

One who could stay.

****

BESS SHIFTED IN thelarge bed. She didn’t have to reach to know he was gone.

The room felt empty.

Just like she did.

Was this how it was supposed to feel? Why in the hell did people have one-night stands if this was what the morning after was like?

Probably because it still seemed worth it.

Bess rolled to her side and scooted across the king-sized mattress, doing her best to resist the temptation to press her nose into the pillow beside her. It would smell like him. The only evidence of his presence still remaining in the room.

She sat up and her stomach dropped.

His scent might not be the only bit he left behind.

Bess flipped back the covers and stared down at the damp spot on the sheets between her legs.

They’d used a condom every time. She watched him put them on, knew damn well they were there.

Her heart raced as she scanned the room. She could go check them. Make sure they were all still intact. Maybe it was just from her. Residual wetness from a night of pleasure unlike any she’d ever experienced.

She jumped off the bed and rushed to the small trash can beside the desk. Part of her thought for sure he would have taken the trash too. The man was meticulous.

But there, in the clear plastic liner, were a handful of foil pouches and wadded-up tissues. She grabbed the one on top and carefully unwrapped the crumpled Kleenex before lifting out the spent rubber.

It was almost empty. Nothing collected in the tip like normal.

Because there, at the worst possible spot, was a tiny defect in the latex.

Bess lifted it higher, staring at the broken condom, as the potential ramifications of one single night fell down around her.

“Shit.”

****