Page 100 of Floodgates

“Who’s teasing?”

Even in the darkness, he easily found the lube, and I heard the cap open with a loud snap in the quiet room.

“I’ll be gentle this time.”

“I don’t remember complaining.”

“I just—the first time had a five-year buildup. Now I know you’re not going anywhere.”

“No,” I said softly. “I’m not.”

My body didn’t tense with the breach, just took him in as he pressed forward slowly, steadily.

“Trace,” he breathed out before he opened his mouth on the side of my neck, then sucked hard as he slid out of my clasping channel only to slide back in, the motion smooth and languid. “I have wanted to sink inside of you and just be for so long. I feel like I’m finally home.”

Never would I have guessed I could be Cord Nolan’s whole life or, even more, that I would have ever wanted to be.

Chapter 12

CORD HAD to leave me first thing the following morning, but he checked my tonsils before he left, and having him all dressed and me naked under him, rubbing his thighs with my hands as he straddled my hardening groin, was absolute agony.

“Stay here.”

“I gotta go,” he grumbled, mauling my mouth. “But I don’t want to.”

“That’s a nice thing to say,” I said, fisting the lapel of his suit jacket with one hand while I slid the other up into his hair.

“There’s extra security around the house,” he said softly, kissing along my jawline. “Do not leave. Stay here until I get back.”

“Isn’t the point supposed to be to lure this psycho out?”

“The point is to make him so nuts over not being able to get to you or Celia that he messes up. I need you to wait here and not leave.”

“All right,” I agreed. I took his hand and slid it down my abdomen to my dick. “But before you leave….”

The deep, filthy groan from the man as he squeezed my cock made me buck up off the bed.

“Nobody’s ever wanted me like this.”

“I don’t get that at all,” I replied truthfully because, really, given his moss-green eyes, chiseled jaw, and big, hard body, how was that even possible?

“Don’t—” He gasped. “—change.”

“I promise,” I said before I went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

I WOKE up from my postcoital nap, showered, and then went downstairs. When I arrived, I realized there were a lot of visitors in the house.

“Good morning, Tracy,” Brian Alcott greeted me. “I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well.”

“What makes you say that?”

He pointed at my eyes. “You have some serious baggage there.”

I had, truthfully, not gotten much sleep, but the reason was not to be shared. “So what’s going on down here?”

“My folks are hosting a brunch for some of Breckin’s old friends.”

“Got it.”