The Last Guy
She smiles sheepishly. “That’s better. Makes me think of Killer. She’d never hurt me.”
Killer makes me think of my penthouse, and I’m picturing Stone spread out on my bed like a naked feast.
Her expression goes serious as she cups my cheek and levels me with those emerald eyes. She inhales a deep breath. “Truly, Cade, I am sorry for worrying you.” Emotion fills her gaze, and she blinks. “Thank you for tonight. You very well may have gotten me that anchor job.”
The anchor job.
I close my eyes. Fuck.
Forget that. Focus on her.
So, in front of everyone at the bar, I lean in and take her lips. Her mouth is soft and clings to mine as our tongues tangle together.
I pull back, and she’s breathing hard.
Kevin is staring at us with wide eyes and Trent is snorting.
I tug her up from her seat, slap a few hundreds on the bar (just in case Trent needs help paying the tab), and without a word to anyone else, we leave.
Prickly, stubborn Rebecca Fieldstone is mine tonight.
Because I don’t know about tomorrow . . .
Rebecca
“YES! OH, CADE—oh, YES!” It’s happening. The most amazing O of my entire life is rocking my body and soul right now. My mind is erased. I’m soaring through the universe as Cade Hill pounds into me from the foot of the bed.
He’s the most amazing, the most beautiful, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’m on my third orgasm of the night as his massive hammer claims my body forever.
I’m on my back, my ankles on his shoulders, and he’s leaning forward, both hands on each side of my head. A bead of sweat traces down his temple, and his hair swings in messy, sweat-tipped waves around his face. His eyes squeeze shut, and he reaches up to grip my calf as if for balance.
“Fuck, Stone . . .” A low swear groans from his chest as he pulses deep inside me. He holds tight, his dark brow creased, and I’m in the stars, pinned to this bed, by this gorgeous man now lowering to his forearms above me and capturing my lips in a gentle, worshipful kiss. My lips follow his, in a lazy, completely sated response.
“Adrenaline sex is amazing,” I sigh, and he laughs.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
“Hmm . . . I have lots of ideas.”
His nose is in my neck, and he’s kissing my collarbone. His beard scuffs my sensitive skin, and it’s absolutely divine. It’s too divine . . . A shock of panic hits my chest, and my body stiffens as a memory shoots to the forefront of my brain . . .
“Cade?” Even I hear the tremor in my voice.
His head pops up. “What’s wrong?”
I look down at his chin, reaching up to run my fingers through his silky hair before I say it out loud.
“You haven’t . . . applied for any top secret government programs, have you?”
Confusion is in his eyes. “Top secret government programs?”
“Anything with NASA?”
He draws back more and his eyes run all over my face and up to my forehead. “Did you get hit in the head tonight? In the struggle?”
“No, I was just wondering.”
“I’ve never done any work with NASA, and I haven’t applied for any government jobs.”
Relief bubbles in my stomach, and I laugh—blissed-out, happy laughter. “Good. Don’t ever do that, okay?”
His brow furrows, but that amazing dimple appears in his cheek. “Crazy Stone.”
I touch a red-tipped finger to that little indention in his cheek, and I have another thought about tonight. “Thank you.”
“For that mind-blowing orgasm? You’re welcome.”
“No, Mr. Cocky . . .”
“That’s Mr. Cock to you.”
“Oh my God,” I roll my eyes, pushing against his shoulder. “Forget I said anything.”
He laughs more, pulling out and reaching between us to dispose of the condom. I move up into the pillows and wrap the blankets around my naked body, waiting for him to join me. Both our heads are on the long, king-sized pillows, but we’re in the middle of his enormous bed, facing each other with amazed smiles. Being Cade’s girlfriend—secret girlfriend—is even better than I imagined.
“Okay, seriously,” he says in that deep, rich voice I love as he reaches out to smooth a lock of hair away from my cheek—another thing I love. “Why are you thanking me again?”
“I was thinking about this evening . . . earlier in the parking garage.”
His dark brows pull together, but he’s still smiling. “I don’t understand.”
“Thanks for not charging in and taking over when everything went down. Thanks for letting it be my story.”
“It was your story.”
“Yes, but you know what I mean.” I look down, thinking about his instinct to protect me. “I’ve worked so hard, and I . . . I don’t know. I guess I just wanted you to know I appreciate you supporting me and not treating me like . . .” I don’t even want to say it out loud. Like Marv.
I’d been studying the sprinkling of dark hair across the lines in his chest as I said it, but now I look up to his beautiful blue eyes. His expression has changed. He blinks away quickly, but I saw the hesitation . . . concern? I’m not sure what it was.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching out to place my palm against his skin.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. Instead he reaches for my waist, turning me so my back is pressed against his chest.
“Let’s sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Are you tired?”
“It’s hard work being a hero, chasing down bad guys, keeping you safe while making it look like I’m not even there.”
I exhale a little laugh and lace my fingers with his around my waist.
“Just know it means a lot to me,” I say quietly. “More than you probably know.”
His voice is serious again, low and quiet. “I know.”
My eyes pop open with the dawn. Cade is still sleeping, making noises somewhere between loud breathing and snoring, and I wrinkle my nose with a smile. I never thought I’d find snoring adorable, but somehow when he does it . . .
Taking a deep breath, I slide out of his enormous bed and pick up my clothes. I have to get home so I can shower and change before we both have to be at work. I wish we could go for a jog together. I wish I could shower with his delicious-smelling body wash. I want to be covered in the scent of warm woods and citrus and Cade all day, reminding me of last night . . . reminding me of heroes . . . reminding me of amazing, real boyfriends who aren’t dreams . . .
Chas is sitting at the table when I walk into our apartment, carrying my shoes. Her legs are crossed, and she looks like a classic 1950s housewife—full makeup, pink silk robe, pink turban, and a cup of coffee. Our oversized television is blasting the KHOT morning show, and it’s right in the middle of my hero story.
“Girl!” Chassy jumps up from the table and runs to hug me at the door. My face barely reaches her chest in her feathered, high-heeled slippers. “You are the talk of the town, Rebecca Fieldstone of KHOT News, keeping us safe from hoodie bandits!”
“Did you see it!?” My voice is a little loud as all the excitement from last night comes rushing back.
“Ew, girl, don’t shout. I had a performance last night.”
“Sorry!” I hop over to the couch and sit on my feet on the cushions, grabbing the remote to rewind it to the beginning of my story.