Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,59

the back of her throat.

“Dan?” she breathed.

“Yes, love.”

A ghost of a smile, bending so her lips met mine. When she straightened, she lifted my hands to her hips. “I think I need a little help. This cast—”

I moved.

Using one of her tricks.

Rolling her to her back, pulling out, thrusting in, all while kissing her with every ounce of love I possessed. This wonderful, difficult, smart, beautiful, amazing woman had given me the best gift of my life.

I wasn’t going to waste it.

Out and in. Out and in.

Her uninjured leg hitched around my hip, and I took the hint, tilting my pelvis, hitting her at just the right angle. And fuck, but the moan that dropped off her lips was absolutely the best sound on the planet.

Or maybe that was the way she breathed my name when she got close again, fingers digging into my shoulders, hips meeting mine.

Sweat slid down my back, mingling with the rain.

My abs burned like a motherfucker.

An orgasm coiled at the base of my spine, threatened to burst outward.

Closer and closer, dangerously towing that line of an explosion, and then . . . thank fuck, she exploded, pussy clenching, moisture coating my cock.

I thrust once more.

And catapulted over the edge.

Wave after wave of pleasure slid through me, making every muscle tighten for long, glorious moments. I came to who knew how long later, breathing like I’d run a marathon, thankfully having had enough brainpower left to have remembered to brace myself over her.

“I love you,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to each of her closed eyelids.

A smile teased up the edges of her mouth. “You’re okay, amore.”

I nipped that curve. “Just okay.”

A pat to my back. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “We have plenty of time to work on it.”

I growled, nibbled at her jaw, her throat.

She giggled.

And I felt like the luckiest man on the planet all over again.

Especially when she slipped her fingers into the hair on my nape and said, “I love you, too.”

The rain slowed to a drizzle.

The sun continued its descent.

The heat returned, not enough to drive us inside, but keeping it warm enough that we stayed outside, the rain drying from our bodies. Ava yawned and rested her head on my chest.

“For the record,” she said. “That was better than okay.”

Twenty-Eight

Central Georgia

Dan’s cabin

09:55hrs local time

Ava

Luna 2.0 wasn’t Luna.

But she was pretty damned good.

Lighter than her predecessor, but with good range and a reliable scope.

I’d spent the morning on my belly, practicing on targets Dan had set up in a clearing behind the cabin.

And though my ankle was aching, my abdomen sore from the exercise, I’d felt like Luna 2.0 and I had gone on a great first date.

“Here’s to many more,” I whispered, stretching my neck and getting ready to pack it in for the moment. The sun had risen, bringing with it all the heat and humidity of the day. And while I’d enjoyed the lazy afternoon and evening yesterday, I was stiff, hungry, and ready for a shower.

Snap.

I didn’t immediately react, thinking it was Dan coming out to tell me to take a break. The man could be pushy as hell—case in point, pushing through my walls, not to mention the way he’d gotten my stubborn ass to look inward and reconsider what I’d always thought was the only path for my life. But he was also good, and I wasn’t stupid enough to not appreciate that he’d fought for me, that he loved me because of who I was and what I’d survived, instead of in spite of all that.

And he loved me.

Me.

When I’d spent so much of my life thinking that was impossible.

I loved him.

Another seemingly impossible feat, and yet something that was . . . so fucking easy. Because it felt right and incredible and like every one of the ragged edges inside me was soothed when he was near.

Snap.

I shifted, preparing to call out, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see me readily because I’d moved from the center of the clearing into the shade of a tree about forty-five minutes before.

I might have grown up in the heat of Mediterranean summers, but I swore I was going to wither away in these Southern ones.

Smiling, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my sweaty nose, reached for the scope, readying to unscrew it, to put it into the case beside me—

Snap.

My nape prickled.

Because that was the third noise, the third opportunity for Dan to announce himself.

And he hadn’t.

And my instincts were screaming.

I lifted my