Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,132
His thrusts speed up. Our legs tangle, both strained and shaking, his hips pumping… I can feel his torso curled around mine, his chest bumping my back with his deep breaths.
He grunts and pants a little louder. I sigh sharply. Almost…
“Fuck—oh, Gwenna, you’re so fucking…good.” He comes inside me with a hard, deep thrust, and I groan as my body milks him.
I feel his sweat-damp face against my back, nuzzling me. His breath against my skin makes chills race down my arms and shoulders.
“So good, Piglet.”
I reach around behind me, wanting to touch him. The first thing I feel is his arm. I wrap it tightly around my chest and close my eyes.
“That was amazing. That position,” I whisper.
He plants a kiss on my shoulder, then puts a gentle hand on my hip as he pulls out.
“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse and sweet. I turn around and snuggle up against him.
“Thank you.” I kiss his chest.
We just stay there like that for a minute, me inhaling his yummy, sweaty, man smell, him stroking my shoulder blade.
I look up at him. “You like this?” I ask softly.
“What?” His mouth curves slightly in one of his small, sweet smiles.
“Being at my house.”
The smile widens. “Maybe a little.”
I nip at his chest. His big hand smooths over my hair. “Gwennie…”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Piglet…” His eyes briefly close. When they open, he looks more content than I’ve ever seen him. The knowledge brings a flutter to my stomach.
We get up and start grabbing for clothes. We’ve been holed up in my house for four days now, reveling in the newness of…whatever this is.
“I have to go to the enclosure later. Want to come?” I ask him.
“Sure.” He smiles. “I want to see Papa in action.”
I snort.
“What? I mean it.”
“You better mean it,” I tease.
“Go with me on a hike?” he asks, pulling his shirt on.
“Now?”
He nods. “You want to go to that rock way up there on my side of the line?”
The property line. I realize after a second what he means. “That little cave place? I always loved that place, but once I saw a coyote there and I haven’t gone back since.”
“Bear keeper can’t handle a coyote?” he teases.
“Unlike you, I’m not some crazy, badass gunman.” As soon as the words flow from my lips, I flinch.
Barrett steps to me and frames my face with his hands. “Gwen?”
“Yes.” My eyes on him are wide.
He whispers, “I’m not going to break.”
I nod slowly. “I know.”
He pulls me against him. I have the sense he’s going to say something, but he never does. We both finish dressing, and while we’re eating protein bars—two for him and one for me—we talk about my bear babies.
I can’t help admiring Barrett’s body as we stretch outside. I get a cramp and he kneels, propping my foot on his shoulder as his fingers… I groan. “God—you’re good.”
“Important skill.”
“For…?”
“Staying alive.”
My eyes widen.
He winks, then ruffles my hair. “Race you to the rock, Piglet.”
THREE
BARRETT
I hold her hand, and we walk up the hill. It’s strange—to be here with her and not just watching her. I caress her hand. She smiles up at me. Emotion moves through my chest: gratitude, shock, guilt. Warmth.
“I like having you around,” she murmurs.
“I like being around,” I say, hoping she can’t hear how hoarse my voice sounds.
“Did you think I was crazy when I kicked you that day?” She laughs.
“No. Just scared. Pretty badass, honestly.”
“Did it trigger you, having your head get hurt and stuff?”
“Nah.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
I chuckle. Then I think of something sobering.
“That night I left you—you went in, and I went home?”
Her brown gaze searches mine; it makes my chest hurt somewhere deep I can’t touch.
“I let you paint it as you reading too much into things.”
She nods.
I press my lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“So…I wasn’t?”
I squeeze her hand and try to find the words I need. “I was going out of my mind…trying to protect you.”
“I know why you want to meet Papa. The two of you have a lot in common. Both very—beary?—” she gives me a silly smirk— “protective. I can see you doing your old job. Or teaching martial arts. Were you always that way?”
“How?” I frown.
“Protective.”
I think about my Mom. I’m tempted to give her a generic “don’t know,” but I owe Gwen all the honesty that I can give her. So I confess, “Yeah.”
“I want to know about the young cub Barrett.” She smiles up at me, and I swear to God, her eyes