Page 74 of Iron Shield
He froze at her use of his name that he’d never told her. “Fuck!”
She felt his cock jerk inside her and heard a sound deep in his chest. She pressed her hips back into his, jolting through his release with her own aftershocks.
After heavy heartbeats, his callused fingers left her clit, and she issued a throaty sigh. He ran his hands over her hips and then his palm came down on her ass—a sharp, playful sting.
She cried out in surprise before she burst out laughing into the pillow.
His weight left the bed, and she lay there, unmoving. Her face was hot and she hadn’t caught her breath yet, but she couldn’t quit smiling.
She heard Rome leave the room. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, trying to locate her scattered senses.
He came back and dropped onto the bed beside her. One arm hooked her around the waist and he pulled her against his side. She settled into the warmth of him, her cheek pillowed on his chiseled chest and one leg tangled with his.
He moved his hand in a slow stroke up her spine. “You surprised me.”
She blinked at him.
“You said my name.”
“Did not.”
“Did too. When you were coming on my cock.”
She shivered at the memory and ran her hand over his chest. “Jolie told me it’s Jack.”
“Like I said, you surprised me.” A beat of silence hung between them. Then he covered her hand with his larger one. “What did you do today?”
She considered the question. Was she going to tell him about being so restless that fluffing pillows became a new hobby?
No. She was not.
“Less exciting than your day, I’m sure.”
“Mm.” His chest rose and fell.
“Why didn’t you tell me you went to Chicago?” She tipped her head back to look at him. “What were you doing there?”
He studied her face for a beat, one fingertip paused at the base of her spine over her tattoo that seemed to intrigue him.
Just when she thought he wouldn’t tell her, he said, “We got a facial match off the footage in the alley behind the restaurant. Someone we thought could be responsible for your guard’s death.”
She stilled.
“We tracked the person to Chicago. Navy guy, stationed at Great Lakes.”
She jolted. “Where we flew out of. Where those guys chased us to.” Her voice wobbled.
Rome kept his voice flat, as if he was reporting to Cannon. “But his alibi is solid enough for us not to question it. Evidence proves he was on base that day.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “So it wasn’t him.”
“No.”
“Then”—she pushed onto her elbow—“what does that mean? The real murderer has a twin out there? A doppelganger running around killing federal agents?”
She picked up the edge in her own voice and felt the hollowness of what it all meant.
It meant that this was still her life. A life where she wasn’t safe and Chicago would never just be Chicago again.
