A gasp escaped her as she feathered her hand over the bruises on his chest where they mingled with his tattoos.
“They don’t matter,” he said, and when she opened mouth to protest, he silenced her with one finger. “Whose bed are you in?”
The softest of smiles eased away her frown, and her eyes seemed to lighten. The fist in his chest that had held his heart captive for so many years eased, and he took his first real breath in what seemed like a lifetime.
“Yours,” she whispered.
“And who is in charge in my bed?”
“You are,” she answered easily enough, “sir.”
A dark chuckle slid through him as he cupped her chin, then applied pressure to the corner of her mouth with his thumb. He stroked it against her tongue as she opened to him.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered. “I am so fucking tired of missing you.”
“I won’t leave you again,” she swore, and he believed her, but he still waged war on his demons and hers until he’d dragged every ounce of pleasure from her he could. Then and only then did he sink into her waiting body, and he shuddered from head to toe. His control slipped at the hot velvet glove of her pussy wrapping around him.
Yes, he’d made love to her in her mind, but this was really her. This was her body accepting his, this was her face softened from orgasms and her eyes drowsy with pleasure. Everything he asked for, she gave him, and when he kissed her, she opened to him like the true beauty she was. He wanted to be easy and gentle, but he frayed at the ends, desperate for her.
“Please,” she begged against his lips. “Let go.”
This once, he conceded, and he set a punishing pace as he drew back and then slammed into her. She curved her whole body around his, dug her fingers in and thrust her tongue to parry his as he moaned into her kiss. Every thrust shoved her up the bed, and he’d drag her back to him with a solid grip on her shoulders.
It wouldn’t take him long. His need had threatened to break him with the first orgasm he’d dragged out of her, and he was ready to blow by the fifth. But he wanted more.
He wanted her to come again.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Make yourself come for me. I want to feel you on my cock as you come apart.”
Then her hand dipped between them, but he didn’t slow his pace, needing the friction as his balls dragged up tight and his whole body demanded the release. A moment later, she let out a cry, and he reveled in the pleasure radiating out of her expression and threw his head back as he let go. His own orgasm turned his blood electric and melted him from inside out.
He spilled into her, mouth locked on hers as he drank in her moans. Sweat slicked them, and still, he nestled between her thighs, even though he should roll over and drag her against him. He wanted her there, he wanted to be inside her, forever.
“My love,” she whispered against him, her hand smoothing down his back, and it occurred to Dirk she was soothing him and offering comfort. Only then did he realize his shoulders shook and tears dampened his face. Wrapping his arms around her tighter, he kept his face tucked into her throat. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips, her words a balm to his ears, but the contact and the feel of her holding him as fiercely bandaged his soul.
Finally.
He had her back.
Finally.
He would never let her go again.
Chapter 13
“The good physician treats the disease; the great physician treats the patient who has the disease.” - Sir William Osler
VALDA
Dirk slept. He’d been sleeping for hours, his head pressed against my chest as though he needed to hear my heart beating. I couldn’t fault him. Wouldn’t. I should have dragged myself from this bed and gone to make contact with Smithson, at least long enough to get his explanation. We needed facts.
We needed information to plan a strategy. But from the moment my awareness returned and I’d discovered Hatch and Dirk had been taken, I’d longed to have them back. They were all so much a part of me, but each belonged to me in a different way as much as I belonged to them. Dirk had always been my bulwark. He’d been the wall around me. The fury and the shelter. He kept all threats away.
And to feel his pain so profoundly as he’d sobbed into my arms, something inside of me shifted again. Maybe forever. Already, I wanted to walk away from the work. I didn’t want to risk them. I didn’t want to risk what we had. Yet, if I did walk away, who would find the cures? The viral treatments? Who could undo what had been done?
I had already worked out a treatment plan. It was more about disseminating it now. Dirk shifted against me, his arm spasming around my waist, and then he rolled onto his side. Curving over onto my hip, I faced him. In the darkness of the room, with only the dim light from the attached bathroom, I could barely make out his scared and weary visage.
He’d aged a decade on me. Or maybe it just felt that way. I feathered my fingers against his face and then over his wounded scalp. His beautiful hair had always been so much a part of him. But it would grow back, and even if it didn’t, his looks were not what made him Dirk. I traced a pattern over the familiar tattoos, and his breathing deepened further. How tired was he truly?
How much rest had they gotten? In the couple of weeks prior to leaving the island, Andreas had begun to sleep longer and longer. The shadows beneath his eyes had eased, albeit slowly. Even when I’d been in the memoriam, had they really been able to rest?
If I’d been trying to free them?
I wouldn’t have been able to.
As it was, I couldn’t sleep now. We were away from Smithson and his men, but we were by no means free. He seemed very determined that I was the only one who could solve whatever problem he had. I could solve it—in the memoriam. I sighed.
I’d spent some of the drive turning the various pieces of information over in my head, but I didn’t have enough pieces to even begin hazarding the shape of the puzzle. Unwilling to disturb Dirk with my restless thoughts, I eased from the bed. I cleaned up in the bathroom. It used sonic waves rather than water. Not my favorite, but it would do. At least we had access to something. I finger combed my hair and then pulled on my clothes. I skipped the panties that Dirk had cheerfully shredded.
A part of me longed for looser, flowing clothing, but the air was damp and chilly inside all the stone. Barefoot, I moved quietly and let myself out. The hallway was lit enough for me to follow it to the stairs. I’d barely seen our passage on the way in, but it only seemed like closed rooms here, and I needed…I needed some air to think, and I needed a drink.
Following the smell of coffee and food, I ascended the stairs and found my way into a small kitchen. Oz stood in front of a makeshift stove, bacon sizzling, and there were two of Dirk’s men seated at a table with coffee. They took one look at me and rose, plates and mugs in hand. With a nod, they left, and I gave them a small smile.
I should really work on being more open with the mercenaries and soldiers pledged to Dirk. They’d been protecting us, and in some cases, they’d given their lives. Thoughts of Campbell flitted through my mind, and I closed my eyes.
I knew almost nothing about him, and yet he’d died for us. So much death. Too much of it. The fact that all these years later and people were still dying to protect knowledge or to steal it…