Page 92 of Bennett

Laurel arched into him, her fingers digging into his back, nails scoring lightly down muscle as she gasped out his name. Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, silently urging him deeper, harder.

More than happy to comply, he gave her everything—his rhythm building slowly and deliberately, hips rolling in a way that made her moan and gasp and he couldn’t get enough.

The couch creaked beneath them as their rhythm grew more urgent, the heat between them blistering. She murmured his name again, low and breathless, and the sound nearly undid him.

And every time she clenched around him, every sexy sound she made pushed him closer to the edge.

Bennett clenched his jaw, fighting to hang on to the last shreds of control, but Laurel made it impossible. The way she moved with him, the way her breath caught with every deep thrust, the way her body tightened around him—it was too much.

She gasped, her head tipping back as he shifted just enough to change the angle. Her entire body arched in response, trembling beneath his as a broken cry escaped her lips.

“Yes, right there,” she panted, her voice rough, needy, exquisite.

He locked his arm beneath her back, holding her close, thrusting harder now, chasing that sound, that look in her eyes when she was lost in pleasure.

“Come for me, Laurel,” he rasped, with his mouth against her ear. “I need to feel you lose it for me.”

That did it.

She shattered beneath him with a sexy-as-hell moan, her body clenching tightly around his, wave after wave of pleasure wracking her frame as she gasped his name. The sight of her coming undone—flushed, panting, so damn beautiful—dragged him under too.

He groaned deep in his chest, burying himself in her one last time as white-hot pleasure lit up his spine and turned his muscles molten. His climax slammed into him, raw and consuming, drawn out by the woman beneath him, holding on like she never wanted to let go.”

Breathing hard, Bennett dropped his forehead to hers, his body still enjoying her aftershocks. He didn’t speak, couldn’t. There were no words big enough for what she’d just made him feel.

Laurel brushed a hand through his hair, her touch gentle now, grounding. “That,” she whispered, still breathless, “was definitely better than a sandwich.”

He let out a hoarse laugh, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “I agree. Not even close.”

They lay tangled on the couch, sweat-slicked and sated, hearts still pounding in sync as quiet wrapped back around them.

But it wasn’t the same kind of quiet anymore.

This one was warm, intimate.

Real.

The world stilled in the aftermath, breath mingling, bodies entwined, the distant hum of the town settling into twilight. Bennett stayed wrapped around her for a long moment, his forehead resting against hers, heart pounding steady now, but not calm. Never calm. Not when it came to her.

Laurel let out a soft, satisfied sound and traced lazy circles on his back. “We should probably eat those sandwiches eventually,” she murmured with a grin.

“Eventually,” he said, brushing a kiss over her temple. But he didn’t move.

He didn’t want to. Not yet.

They lay like that for another minute before she whispered, “You’re quiet.”

“Just thinking.” He lifted his head slightly to look at her. “About you. About this.” He paused. “And about what could’ve happened when that window was smashed.”

Her brow furrowed. “Bennett—”

Before she could say more, a soft chime buzzed from his phone on the floor. Not a text. An alert.

The unmistakable ping of the security app.

Shit.

He reached for it, his heart rate kicking up again. Laurel sat up next to him, silent but steady as he unlocked the screen and swiped into the log.