Chapter 28

For years, Dagan had kept himself apart, detached. Focusing on the missions and closing himself off from true happiness.

But it was impossible to remain detached in Chelsea’s arms.

“Chels.” He rested his forehead against hers as they both came down from the glorious high of physical release. “Chels, I—”

He wasn’t sure what had been on the tip of his tongue. I love you, maybe? That was a pretty clichéd confession after sex, wasn’t it? You complete me, perhaps? But that was just as bad. Luckily, neither had the chance to slip past his lips because the knob on the front door jiggled, interrupting him.

Without missing a beat, he filled his hands with her amazing ass, lifted her from the counter, and shuffled them into the pantry in the corner. He kicked the door shut behind them just as the front door opened and Emily called in a singsong voice, “Stop playing, little mice! The cats have returned!”

Except for the sliver of golden light visible around the edge of the door, the little cubby was pitch-black. The smell of flour, maple syrup, and boxed cereal was strong. And the feel of still being connected to Chelsea, inside her, was more distracting than the sound of footfalls traversing the living room and entering the kitchen.

Chelsea shifted in his arms. He realized she had caught the cord hanging down from the single bare bulb when she gave it a yank and dim yellow light flooded the pantry. It revealed canned goods, a whole shelf of cereal—a staple of the single man’s diet—and let’s not forget…Chelsea’s bodacious boobs.

With her arm over her head, the left boob was looking up at him, taunting him and tempting him to bend his head and take a taste. Inside her, his softening erection throbbed with new life.

Chelsea blinked at him in astonishment. “Really? So soon after that performance out there?”

“What can I say?” He gave her ass a squeeze. “I can’t get enough. As for that performance out there…” He bent close, buried his nose in the hair beside her ear, and dragged in the warm strawberries-dipped-in-vanilla scent of her. Now it was mixed with sex. “I must admit I think that was some of my better work. And on a kitchen counter, no less.” Because he couldn’t help himself, he gave her a shallow stroke that made them both moan with pleasure.

“Yoo-hoo!” A loud knock sounded on the door. “Would you two like me to hand in your clothes? Or would you prefer to come talk to us with your naked bits bobbing?” Emily made the word naked sound more like nekkid. “We have an update on the situation.”

“Clothes, please!” Chelsea called, wiggling to be let down.

Dagan sent her a disappointed look.

She answered him with come-on-we-can’t-very-well-make-love-again-with-an-audience-listening eyes.

He begged to disagree. He could be quiet if he really had to be. On the other hand, he wasn’t so sure about her. The woman clawed her way to the pinnacle each time, hissing and snarling. And then when she finally reached the top, she howled her pleasure.

Sighing in resignation, he gently lowered her to the floor. They both groaned when he slipped out of her. Compared to the sultry heat of her body, the air inside the pantry was freezing cold. All he wanted was to get warm again.

Another knock sounded at the door. With a growl of frustration—or was it disappointment? Maybe both?—Dagan reached behind Chelsea, opened the door, and thrust out a hand. Pulling in a pile of clothes, he looked at Chelsea and hesitated.

She was so damn sexy standing there naked among the soup and the cereal. Her chest and cheeks were flushed from their recent exertions, her phenomenal curves on full display. It was a crying shame to cover any of that up.

“Uh-uh.” She lifted a finger. “I recognize that look. Wipe it off your face this instant, or we’re never going to leave this pantry.”

“Would that be such a bad thing? Far as I can see, we’ve got everything we need. Food. Drink. You and me sans clothes.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Condoms?” She lifted a haughty brow, sure she had bested him.

He gave her his wickedest grin. “I can think of ways we can improvise.”

“You’re impossible.” She shoved her hands on her hips, donning her patented pint-sized Wonder Woman stance.

He had always loved it. Little had he known how much more he would love it when she did it naked.

“And there’s that look again,” she said exasperatedly.

“What look?”

“You know good and well what look. Your Big Bad Wolf, come-a-little-closer-so-I-can-eat-you look.”

He licked his lips and gave her his best growl.

Shaking her head, she stomped over, boobs jiggling in the most delightful way. But before she could snatch her things from his hands, he held the whole pile over his head. Since he was a foot taller than she was, it effectively put everything out of her reach.

Do the Wonder Woman thing again.

She fisted her hands on her hips, and it took all he had not to pump a fist.

“I’m not going to jump for them,” she informed him with a sniff.

“Oh, please. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“You’re such a pervert.”

“Guilty as charged. And you love it.”

“Ugh!” She tossed her hands in the air. “You are impossible!”

“You said that already.”

“The truth bears repeating!”

Acting completely dejected—and having way more fun than he’d had in a long time—he sighed. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Handing over her clothes, he watched her pick out her bra and panties. Seeing her shimmy into them had him growling in earnest. And without conscious thought, he advanced on her.

“No. No, no!” Up went her finger again—her delightful, biteable finger. This time, she added a wag. “Back up three steps, sir. And once you’ve finished doing that, I suggest you put that thing away.” She made a vague motion toward his dick, which had regained its former glory. The condom was once more stretched tight around him. “Liable to put someone’s eye out,” she muttered under her breath.

He laughed. Really laughed. And, man, it felt good. Alas, since his fun was over—for now—he looked around for some place to dispose of the used condom.

Chelsea, ever polite, pulled a new roll of paper towels from the shelves and handed him a square. “There’s a trash can behind you in the corner.” She pointed over his shoulder.

He turned to see she was right. When he swung back, he thought he saw something drift across her face. A fleeting shadow. But then she pulled her sweatshirt over her head, and when her expression was visible once again, she was all smiley lips and twinkly eyes.

Still, he had seen something, hadn’t he? However brief it had been?

His mind turned it over as he disposed of the condom and dressed. But before he could question her about it, she put her hand on the door handle and asked, “Ready to face the firing squad?”

“Is that what we’re calling them?”

“You think it’s an unfair description?”

Knowing the Black Knights? “Not at all.”

She pushed open the door, revealing the trio parked outside. Ace, Emily, and Christian stood in the middle of the kitchen. They formed a neat line, and when Dagan and Chelsea emerged from the pantry, they began clapping.

Chelsea blushed to the roots of her hair. But in typical, smart-ass Chelsea-style, she didn’t let them get the best of her. Instead, she took a theatrical bow complete with rolling hand gesture.

Her upthrust ass in those jeans had Dagan’s brains leaking out of his ears. Which was why he forgot about the shadow that had passed over her face and the fact that she needed to tell him something.