Page 27 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

Bennett reached past her and turned the shower handle. Steam billowed instantly, curling around them like a cloud. Then he stepped under the spray, the warm cascade rolling down his chest as he reached out with one hand, silent, steady, waiting.

Laurel slipped her fingers into his without hesitation.

He tugged her gently against his wet body. The moment heat hit her skin, she gasped, partly from the temperature, mostly from the feel of him, slick and solid. He drew back just enough to pour bodywash on their chests.

She gasped again, enjoying his slippery, hard muscles and the way they molded to her softer curves, every plane and line of him fitting against her like they’d been made to do this.

His hands skimmed down her body, slow and reverent, as though committing every inch of her to memory. She caressed all of him she could before flattening her palms against his chest, feeling the rush of his heartbeat beneath her fingers, strong and steady and just for her.

As he pulled them under the stream of water, her mind and body gave in to the erotic sensation. Steam wrapped around them, but it was his touch that lit her nerves. Once the suds were washed away, he moved her backward until his body shielded her from the direct spray of the water once more.

Laurel met Bennett’s gaze, and whatever teasing had hovered between them earlier dissolved into something deeper. Hungrier.

Raw.

Her breath caught. No one had ever looked at her like this. Like she was rare. Fierce. Worth protecting.

“Bennett,” she whispered, her hand still resting over his heart.

It thudded beneath her palm, solid and sure.

Just like him.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over hers. “Say something,” he murmured.

She didn’t hesitate. “You wreck me too.”

And then she kissed him, slow and full of the honesty she couldn’t quite voice. Gratitude. Need. Wonder. Every emotion she’d tried to ignore since the moment he’d first pinned her against that wall and argued with her like she mattered.

The kiss deepened, wild now. Her hands tangled in his hair, as she kissed him back, desperate to show him she felt the same.

Then his mouth left hers to trail over her throat and down her chest, driving her out of her mind.

When he took her nipple between his lips, she moaned, unable to hold the sound in.

Then he turned her gently, positioning her back against his chest as he cupped both breasts, teasing each sensitive peak with his thumbs. Heat, hot and fierce, sliced through her to pool low in her belly.

Lost, drowning in sensations, she pressed back against him, reveling in the way he groaned, thrusting against her. Need hit her again, stronger this time.

“Bennett,” she breathed, unsure what to ask for.

But he already knew.

One thick, slick finger slid into her, slow and perfect, making her knees tremble.

He braced her with a strong arm. “I’ve got you.”

It felt so good. He felt so good, but she wasn’t going to last.

“Bennett,” she murmured again. “I…can’t hold on.”

The angle of his finger, the rhythm of his touch, the way his mouth found that soft spot behind her ear—it all worked in tandem, unraveling her completely.

It was amazing. It was wonderful.

It was too much.

And when he whispered, “Come for me, Laurel,” she burst.

Her climax ripped through her in waves, her entire body trembling as she cried out, her palms hitting the tile in front of her as the storm shattered every last thread of control.

He held her through it, grounding her with his strength. When she could breathe again, he turned her gently to face him before drawing her close, and she happily rested her cheek against his chest, panting, boneless.

He was a furnace, all power, warmth, and restraint. But the way his dark eyes searched hers as she looked up again sent a fresh pulse of heat low in her belly.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You…are…”

“Not done,” he said, voice rough and deliciously sure.

Before she could respond, he eased her back against the wall. She reached for him, but he stepped away long enough to grab a condom from the wallet in his jeans on the floor.

She barely had time to miss his heat before he was back, fully sheathed, crowding her against the tile, the water now beating against his back.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice thick, “where were we?”

Then he kissed her thoroughly and without restraint.

His tongue slid against hers in slow, sensuous strokes that made her knees threaten to give out all over again.

He gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pressed her back against the tile, fire flared everywhere they touched.

Bennett broke the kiss to press his forehead to hers, before he sank into her in one long, claiming thrust.

Laurel cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he moved, slow at first, like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“Look at me,” he whispered, voice gravel rough.

She did, and everything shifted. Breath tangled, gazes locked, and it became more than just heat. More than just lust. This was everything that had been simmering between them for days finally spilling over.

Their pace quickened, driven by need and something much more tender. His mouth found hers again, hungry and possessive, and she gave herself over to it completely.

Pressure built again, winding tight and deep, until it snapped.

She shattered around him, a raw cry muffled against his mouth as he followed with a guttural sound, both spiraling into the heat they’d been holding back for far too long.

It took several glorious, mind-numbing moments before the world righted, and their breathing slowed.

Bennett leaned back just enough to look into her eyes. “Told you there’d be more,” he murmured, brushing a soaked strand of hair from her cheek.

Laurel smiled, breathless. “But you didn’t mention how good more would feel.”

***

T he smell of pizza mingled with lingering traces of shampoo and steam in the air, the apartment’s soft lighting casting a warm glow over the open space.

Laurel sat cross-legged on the couch, an oversized T-shirt hanging loose off her shoulder, her hair still damp from the shower.

She was barefoot, wearing a pair of fringed shorts, and beautiful in a way that made Bennett’s chest feel too tight.

He handed her a plate with two slices and settled beside her with his own, one arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching her, but close enough to feel her presence.

“I’m just saying,” she said, between bites, “if there’s ever an apocalypse, I fully intend to barter with books. Paperbacks are portable, versatile, and far more entertaining than gold.”

Bennett chuckled, grabbing a slice from his plate. “So, you’re telling me your survival plan is novels and sarcasm?”

“Obviously.” She gave him a pointed look. “Have you read half those survival guides? They don’t say anything about mental health. I’m just doing my part to keep spirits up.”

“Of course,” he said dryly. “Providing emotional support via paperbacks and fictional men named Heathcliff.”

She laughed, full and unguarded, and it hit him in the ribs like a soft punch. That sound. That ease. He’d been in war zones with less tension than what used to live in her shoulders.

Now, she was soft, open. Happy.

Pride mixed with a spark of possessiveness, knowing he was the one who put that look on her face. The one who’d caused the change in her.

And some dangerous part of him didn’t want that to end.

“Besides,” she added, licking sauce off her thumb, completely unaware of how that simple gesture was melting every brain cell in his head, “you’re one to talk. You survived how long on MREs and caffeine alone?”

“Too long,” he admitted, reaching for his drink that she’d carried over and set near hers on the coffee table. “But at least those MREs didn’t try to seduce me into starting a bookstore.”

She blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes. “Have you been talking to Rylee?”

“Rylee? No,” he replied, setting his glass down before turning to face her. Why? Should I?”

She shrugged. “No.”

“What does Rylee know that I don’t?” he asked, lifting a hand to brush her arm with his finger. Goosebumps immediately appeared, reigniting the pride, once again, swirling through his chest.

Laurel chewed slowly, clearly savoring both the bite and the suspense, then swallowed before meeting his gaze. “Let’s just say Rylee may have picked up on a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That I might’ve spent the last ten years daydreaming about opening a cozy, slightly quirky bookstore-slash-coffee shop. With trivia nights, and banned book bingo. Maybe a secret nook for reading smut with zero shame.”

Bennett blinked. “That’s…oddly specific.”

“Told you she picks up on things.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “And is that what you want? A little bookstore in a quiet town?”

Her gaze softened. “It’s starting to be.”

Bennett watched the way Laurel’s fingers curled around her drink, the faintest smudge of pizza sauce still on her hand.

He didn’t think, just reached out and let his thumb scrape lightly across the inside of her wrist. Her skin was warm and soft, the pulse there a subtle thrum beneath his touch.

“You should do it,” he said. “Open the bookstore.”

She set her glass down then met his gaze, hers narrowing in delight, tinged with something deeper. “You giving life advice now?”

He shrugged, and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Just being supportive.”

“Well, thank you.” She smiled sweetly.

Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Also, I’m not opposed to this reading smut idea. Especially if you read some to me out loud. Preferably with dramatic voices.”

Color flared in her cheeks, but she laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes.

God, she was beautiful.

“You are dangerous.”