Page 74 of Flint’s Strike

“Eliot. Let me.”

For a second, I want to protest. But there ain’t an ounce of pity in her tone. Her pupils are still half blown, her swollen lips parted, and she tugs the briefs down to my knees in one smooth motion.

I kick them to the floor, lunge for the nightstand, and yank the drawer open.

Parker’s gaze lands on the brand new box of condoms, still shrink wrapped. “How long has that been there?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Couple of hours.” I fumble to tear through the plastic, fail, and try again.

Her brows shoot up. “Hours?” Parker takes the box from my hands, and slides a fingernail under one of the seams. “You blushed at the checkout counter, didn’t you?”

“No.” A strip of five blue foil packets lands on the bed. Parker’s still staring at me. “Maybe a little.”

I tear through one of the wrappers, but before I even figure out which end of the damn thing is up, Parker eases the condom from my grip. With the lightest of touches, her hand steadies my shaft. Fuck… She takes her time, fingers certain, yet gentle. God. I’m about to shoot my load before I ever feel her around me. Gritting my teeth is the only way I get through it.

When I settle over her, she cups my jaw, and I let her guide me back down for another searing kiss.

My left arm gives me a little trouble, but I guide myself to her entrance.

“Go slow,” she whispers. “Been a long damn time for me too.”

I slide home by degrees, waiting after each small adjustment for her to nod until she grabs my ass and pulls me deeper.

Her hips start to move under me, slowly at first as we find our rhythm. Our noses bump, and we laugh. But then she reaches for the back of my thigh. The motion sends me balls deep in a heartbeat.

She’s vocal in a way I never expected from a woman who guards every word, every other sound. Moans and whimpers, and something that’s decidedly close to a scream.

Soundproofing. I need soundproofing.

I’m close. So fucking close. My balls draw up tight, and the pressure starts in my back. Nerves and muscles I haven’t used in years firing in a way that blends pleasure and pain.

For several blessed minutes, I’m not logging every sensation going through my body. Not caring what I look like, what she sees, what I can and can’t do.

It’s just the two of us, moving together, Parker shouting my name like it’s the only word left in her head.

“I’m close,” I manage. “Fuuuuuck, Parker. You’re so tight.”

One gentle swipe of my thumb against her clit is enough to take her apart. Her hand fists in the sheet, and the sound she makes cuts through every nerve ending I have left, even the ones that haven’t felt a damn thing in seven years.

I follow her over the edge. Wave after wave of my release spills into the rubber, and my God, I forgot it could be like this. Or…maybe I never knew. Because with Parker, sex is…something more. Something precious. Something I never thought I’d have again.

We lie tangled together, a blanket drawn over us, Parker’s head tucked under my chin.

“Stay.” The word isn’t much more than a whisper. “Not ready to let you go yet.”

“I have to go home in the morning to change before work.” She tips her head back, giving me a sleepy, satisfied smile. “But until six a.m., I’m all yours.”

Shifting closer, Parker tucks herself against my side, careful of my left shoulder. I let myself have this one perfect night with a woman I’m starting to really care for. One who checks for every exit. Except with me.

Chapter Thirty

Parker

A hint of light seeps around the blinds, pale and soft against the dark gray sheets. I stretch my legs, careful not to disturb Eliot. At least twice during the night, pain pulled him from sleep. Once, it was brief. A grunt, a small shift in position, and a few deep breaths. The second time, he got out of bed, uneven footsteps heading down the hall. I had a whole argument with myself over whether I should check on him.

He’s an adult. If he needed something, he would have woken me.

Is he sitting at the table working on the puzzle alone? In pain?