She covered her face. Maddy. I’m so sorry. She knew in her heart Maddy wouldn’t want this. She would want Shea to laugh, love, marry and have children. Live a fulfilled and happy, beautiful life.
That was the wall she had to break down, the one full of guilt and anger. The one that was keeping her from Atticus Sinclair.
She was pacing when the soft knock on her door made her tremble. She ran to it, and there he was, dressed in a brown T-shirt and jeans, his sexy stubble and shaggy hair making him look more like a young party animal than a Navy SEAL.
He pushed into the room and closed the door with his heel, locking it.
His hands slid around her, molding the curves of her body. His body shook against hers like they were both in need of this drug they generated between them.
They came together like a car wreck, two vehicles colliding. His mouth claimed hers, hoarsely whispering her name. His kiss was raw sexual energy, hitting her with the power of a lightning bolt. Her breathing out of control, she opened her mouth, needing the heat of him. Hemingway shuddered again, grinding his mouth against hers as he crushed her even tighter.
Her wall crumbled while she yielded everything to him, her need fired higher by his.
His hand swept lower to cup her smooth behind, pull her tighter, and she moaned and thrust her hips against his, latching onto his belt, undoing it with a frantic pull.
The next few minutes were nothing but their mouths devouring each other as he ripped off her top, trapped her against him with one hand, the other exploring her body with brutal intent. She groaned as he covered her breast, and wildly thumbed her nipple, sending a pulse of heat through her body, straight to her screaming core.
She pulled off his T-shirt, her hands all over the hard, wide planes of his chest. He slipped his arms under her armpits, lifting her easily, his mouth capturing and sucking her nipple. She arched back, crying out.
He moved toward the bed, threw her back on it, yanking on his jeans, shoving them down and kicking them violently off.
He was powerful and hard, his erection jutting from his body in full need. He dropped down, stripping her bare, his fingers finding her core, retreated, over and over, never giving her a chance to catch her breath. She pushed up, opening herself wider, reaching for him and wrapping her hands around his erection, as he flexed in her palm. “Fuck, woman.”
“Is that caveman talk?”
He laughed, and she felt her own power as she slid her thumb over the slick tip of him, feeling him lengthen in her hand. She spread her thighs, urging him between, and guided him into her.
“Deep,” she murmured.
“Cavewoman talk?” he whispered, gasping on a laugh and the exquisite heat of him as he thrust.
She arched on the bed and gripped his shoulders, then collapsed against the mattress in mindless pleasure. He held himself above her, plunging into her slowly. He filled her, a thick, hard pulsing sensation that went soul deep. Ask a Navy SEAL to do something, and they damn well did it to perfection.
Her hips moved and he cupped them, helping her motion, driving up into her. She was ravenous for him, using her mouth on him with deep, licking kisses, her hands leaving no part of him untouched.
He covered her completely, bracing himself on his forearms. “Look at me, babe.” She met those vibrant blue eyes, and for a second, he slowed, leaving her completely, then thrusting deep. She arched to greet him, cradling his face, and her eyes lost focus.
He kissed her, that soft, sexy mouth she couldn’t get enough of, his thrust quick and smooth as she whispered in his ear, “I love you, Atticus.”
He made a sound that quickened her to climax, her cry mingling with his moan between ultimate pleasure and surrender. Her muscles tightened at his reaction, sending her toward release. In one hard thrust, he erupted and came, hot and liquid inside her.
The happiness and pleasure she felt right now was almost painful; she had denied herself for so long. Hemingway seemed to understand, even though he couldn’t possibly know. That was on her.
He held her tightly and watched. His breath hitched, her body jerked, and she flexed, melting into him, pulling him tighter. He closed his arms around her as she rode the throbbing sensations with him. It went on and on, her body clamping and flexing around his, and she didn’t want to stop or leave his arms. Or face the world.
He was the only solid thing in her life right now. He was the one.
They collapsed, breathing each other in, and Hemingway’s hand smoothed her spine as he watched her world come into focus. He fell to his side with her, nestling her into the curve of his body.
She turned, no longer able to keep silent with the weight of what she wanted. Tears welled but didn’t fall.
“Tell me,” he whispered. “What is this burden you carry?”
She closed her eyes and suddenly, her tears slipped free and slid down her cheeks, the release of pressure in her chest felt freeing. He wiped them away. “I’m building a case against Supervisory Special Agent Bates.”
“That douche who broke into the meeting and treated you like scum on his shoes? That Bates?”
“Yes.” She took a shuddering breath. “I have almost all the evidence I need to put him behind bars. He killed my sister Madison. He, along with Maritime Management, have been defrauding the Navy out of millions by overcharging and creating bogus dockage and wharf fees. They paid a kickback to Bates, who leaked sensitive law enforcement investigations to them so they could continue to defraud the Navy. Madison figured out Bates was behind the derailment of the investigation into Maritime. I found most of the evidence on her cloud, transferred it, and wiped it.”
“Why haven’t you turned him in?”
Nothing could soften the cold reality of her intent. “I’ve been keeping the intel so that I can lure him out and kill him myself, put a bullet in his brain and avenge Maddy.”
Hemingway’s eyes narrowed a fraction, and he stared at her, then cupped her face. His gaze suddenly dark and serious, he leaned forward. “If that’s what you want to do, I won’t think less of you.”
“But?” She stared at him, a feeling of apprehension clenching in her gut. He pulled her tightly against him, running his hand through her hair.
“I only care what it will do to you, Shea,” he said, his tone quiet. “Killing a man in cold blood for revenge isn’t as easy as it sounds. You love NCIS, your job and justice are important to you. Would this be justice?”
Maybe before BUD/S, before SEAL training he would have reacted differently, but now he was different, leaner, stronger, so much more than the boy she’d met in that bar. He was supporting her because he understood. Her heart felt suddenly too big for her chest. He would have killed for his sister, maybe he even had.
“You already carry the burden of losing your sister. I would die if you also lost yourself,” he said gruffly.
She closed her eyes. “I want to kill him, Atticus, with everything inside me. I don’t know if I can let it go.”
Hemingway exhaled heavily and pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “Then if that’s what you want, babe.”
She closed her eyes tighter and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
He nodded as she slid both arms around him and hugged him hard. She hung onto him for a long time.
He slid down so he was face to face with her. He smiled a soft, lopsided smile, his eyes smoky with emotion. “Can we talk about what you whispered to me when I was deep inside your beautiful body?”