Kyler's Justice (Assassins of Gravas Book 3) - N.J. Walters Page 0,30

and dropped to the mattress.

What had just happened?

Kyler sat back on his heels but made no move to touch her. The muscles in his shoulders bunched and shifted. His jaw was taut. His eyes burned with lust.

She could still stop this.

Etta raised her arms. “Come here.”

He shoved his battlesuit down enough to release his cock. Long and thick, the broad head slick, his shaft pulsed with a life of its own.

Before she got a really good look, he was levering himself over her.

“You’re not getting naked?” Somehow that seemed wrong.

“Not safe.” He nudged her legs wider.

This was a man who never relaxed his guard. Not even while having sex. She’d been a puddle, lost in the maelstrom, but he would always be aware.

The head of his erection bumped against her opening. “Etta?” The muscles in his arms quivered, and if his jaw got any tighter, a bone was going to snap.

She brushed her fingers over his chin. “I want you.”

He surged forward but stopped before he’d gone more than a couple of inches. “You’re tight.” Rather than rush it, he began to rock back and forth, going deeper with each thrust.

Her sheath stretched and rippled, struggling to accept all of him. She dug her short fingernails into his shoulders, holding on. It bordered on pain but never quite slipped over. If she hadn’t already orgasmed, hadn’t been wet, it would have hurt.

He slipped one hand under her bottom and lifted her, driving the final distance. They shuddered and held still, both of them absorbing the impact. His cock throbbed inside her like a second heartbeat.

When he started to ease back, she wrapped her legs around his flanks, not wanting him to leave her. Then he surged forward, sending spasms throughout her core.

Then he did it again and again. Faster. Harder.

“Kyler.” She was going to come again.

Hands on her hips, he powered into her, touching the very center of her, owning her body and soul. Head thrown back, he groaned her name as he came. He jerked over her, inside her. For one long second, they peered into each other’s eyes. It was like seeing into his soul. In the black depths were longing and pain and resignation.

Then he blinked and rolled off her, falling onto the mattress beside her.

Shivering without him covering her, she managed to grab one of the top covers that was partially off the bed and flipped an end over her. The rest was caught under them so it didn’t cover her, but it helped.

Panting, she stared up at the ceiling until her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Her thoughts were a jumble. It was the most intense experience of her life. It had been everything she’d ever hoped it would be—tender and passionate. Yet, something was missing.

Commitment. They cared for each other, but the outside world seemed determined to keep them on opposite sides.

“Are you sorry?” His voice was rougher and deeper than usual. Lying there, he looked like a sated god. His lightly golden skin gleamed, his tousled hair begged for her touch, and his black eyes were once again shuttered.

“No. It’s better than anything I’d ever dreamed. I had no idea…” He went still while she cursed her loose tongue. “I should get cleaned up.” She started to roll away, but he caught her and dragged her back.

“You’ve never had sex before?”

“Well, I have now. And I have a battery-operated boyfriend who helps.” As a joke, it fell flat. All the satisfaction and sense of well-being bled away, replaced by annoyance. “It’s no big deal. It had to happen sometime, right?”

In a replay of the night he’d broken into her bedroom, he wrapped his hand around her neck. Only this time, his fingers caressed her skin. “You should have told me.”

“Not something that’s easy to bring up in conversation.” She gripped his wrist and he released her. Could this be any more awkward? “Look, we enjoyed each other, so what’s the problem?” It was killing her to act nonchalant about the whole thing. She’d just made love for the first time. She wanted to cuddle, not be interrogated.

Maybe she should have told him, but part of her had feared he’d walk away if he knew. She wasn’t looking for a grand gesture or a declaration of love. That wasn’t in the cards for either of them.

Then why was her chest aching like her heart was breaking?

Falling for an assassin was about the worst thing she could possibly do. Her eyes