Page 18 of A Wilde Christmas
She kept moving, riding him through his orgasm until she reached her own moments later. It rolled through her like a tsunami, robbing her of breath, drowning her. It was raw and primal, leaving her boneless and trembling in its wake.
As she slowed to a stop, everything went quiet except for their mutual ragged breathing. The tension drained out of Davey’s body, his fingers loosening their grip on the Christmas lights.
With a sigh, she collapsed on top of him, sweat-slicked and satisfied. His chest rose and fell beneath her in an uneven rhythm, his chest hair scraping her sensitive nipples in the most erotic way. His heart hammered against hers in a way that made it hard to distinguish where one ended and the other began.
They drifted together in the afterglow… she didn’t know for how long. Long enough that dawn broke and spilled a soft, hazy golden light into the room.
They’d spent the entire night fucking, and now, as the rest of the world woke up on Christmas morning, they were spent and sated, their bodies entwined in a mess of tangled, sex-soaked sheets and twinkling lights. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The conspiracy, the threats, everything seemed distant and unimportant.
Rowan’s head rose and fell gently on Davey’s chest with every breath he took. She lifted herself slightly, propping herself on one arm and looking down at the man beneath her. His handsome face, usually so hard and serious, was softened by post-coital sleep, his lips parted slightly. The man had some of the thickest eyelashes she’d ever seen, and they fanned out against his sharp cheekbones, casting small shadows on his skin as the room lightened with the sunrise. His arms, still boundabove his head, twitched in his sleep but didn’t seem to be causing him any real discomfort. She traced a finger over the stubble on his jaw, marveling at how a man who could be so hard was also so soft. The contradiction that was Davey Wilde.
God, he was beautiful.
She brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead, an unexpected tenderness washing over her. “What the hell are you doing to me, Wilde?”
His eyes opened, revealing that mesmerizing blue, and a sleepy, sexy smile curved his lips.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, voice gravely with sleep.
It did funny things to her belly when he looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, when he spoke to her like she was the first thing he wanted to see when he woke up.
No. Dammit. She couldn’t fall into those gorgeous blue eyes again. She couldn’t let him distract her. Their little detour had been nice—more than nice—but now it was time to get moving.
“Sorry, Wilde.” She slid off him, reaching for her clothes scattered across the floor.
“Rowan,” he rasped. “Untie me.”
She paused and pretended to consider it. “Hmm... Nah.”
His gaze hardened, but she simply ignored him and stepped into her jeans.
“Rowan,” he repeated, a note of warning creeping into his voice as she reached for her sweater.
“Last night was fun,” she said, turning to face him and pulling the soft cashmere over her head. “And I really am sorry for this, but it’s not like you gave me much choice.”
“Don’t.” There was a surprising note of raw vulnerability in his voice that she hadn’t expected, and a knot hardened in her belly. “Don’t run from me.”
She stilled for a moment before shaking her head and pulling on her boots. “I’m not running.” She made sure her favoritedagger was still tucked safely in its sheath, then zipped up the knee-high boot. “I’m protecting myself and those I love.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
When she didn’t respond, he growled low in his throat.
“Who’s after you? Who did you piss off?”
She paused at that and turned to look at him. In the soft glow of the Christmas lights, Davey looked almost surreal. His eyes held a plea that made her heart twinge. For a brief moment, she considered crawling back into bed with him, seeking the comfort and safety of his arms.
But then she remembered the danger following her wasn’t going to wait. She couldn’t either.
She turned away and heard the clatter of the lights against the iron headboard as he tested his restraints again.
“Let me help you,” he pleaded.
Rowan paused with her hand on the doorknob. She glanced back at him and felt a pang of… what? Regret? No. She couldn’t allow herself to feel that. Not now. Not when there was so much more than just her life at stake.
She offered him a bittersweet smile before opening the door. “I don’t need you to be my hero, Davey.”
nine
