Page 39 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

B ennett lay still, staring at the faint slant of morning light cutting across the ceiling.

Laurel was curled beside him, one arm tucked beneath her pillow, her hair spilled across his chest and the sheets like some kind of accidental claim.

He liked that. A lot.

Last night, Annie had kicked them out of her place, insisting she was well enough to handle her needs on her own, having had plenty of practice recuperating from her first operation. Laurel had stood firm, stating she wouldn’t leave unless Annie promised to call if she needed help with anything.

It had been a battle of wills he found quietly fascinating, since the two women were so much alike. Annie had begrudgingly agreed, and apparently that was good enough for Laurel, because they’d left soon after, arriving at the building after dark.

Before they’d arrived, he’d had Matthew sweep the place. And Bennett had done another once Laurel was safely inside her locked apartment.

Nothing had been amiss.

Just him.

Laurel shifted closer and sighed in her sleep. She was warm, soft, and peaceful, and he was doing everything in his power not to ruin that with the storm in his head.

He hadn’t slept.

Not really.

Too much going on behind his eyes. Too many threads tightening in the dark.

Rick Nolan. The camera tampering. Duke Carver playing a long game with someone else pulling strings. And then…Theo.

Bennett hadn’t said more than the name last night. Hadn’t told Laurel the real story. What Theo did. What his father sacrificed. How everything he trusted fell apart in one long, unraveling mess—and how he’d never really forgiven himself for letting it happen.

Not yet.

Her fingers twitched lightly against his ribs in her sleep, grounding him. She was a gift he didn’t deserve. She hadn’t pushed for more. Hadn’t demanded answers he wasn’t ready to give.

But she would, soon. And when she did, he owed her more than just a name.

Bennett let out a slow breath and shifted just enough to slide gently out from under her. She stirred but didn’t wake. He tucked the blanket back over her shoulder and stood quietly, before grabbing his jeans from the chair.

There were answers to chase and a past he couldn’t outrun any longer.

Moving silently through the apartment, Bennett waited until he was in the kitchen before he pulled on his jeans. Light filtered through the single window above the sink, hitting the smooth quartz counter and casting a quiet warmth across the room.

He didn’t bother with the overhead light. The quiet was too nice. He just filled the coffeemaker and braced his hands on the counter as he waited for it to start brewing.

Behind him, soft footsteps padded down the hall.

He didn’t turn. He didn’t have to.

A moment later, Laurel’s arms slid around his waist from behind, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

“You always get up this early?” she murmured, her voice still sleep-heavy.

“Only when I’ve got too much in my head.”

She didn’t ask what that meant. She just leaned into him, warm and present, letting the silence stretch.

Guilt punched his gut. Poor woman didn’t have to be at the diner until the afternoon again today. She deserved to sleep in.

After a beat, she pulled back and reached around him to flip the switch on the coffeemaker. “Works better when it’s turned on.”

Dumbass.

He blew out a breath in a half snicker.

She brushed his back with her lips before moving away. “Guessing you might need the entire pot.”

He turned finally, watching her move around the kitchen with bed-tousled hair and bare feet, wearing one of his t-shirts like it had always belonged to her. And maybe it did.

“You didn’t sleep,” she said without looking at him.

“Didn’t need to.”

Laurel gave him a look over her shoulder. “Liar.”

While the coffee dripped, he stayed quiet as she removed two mugs from a nearby cupboard. She moved with an ease around him in this space that already knew her rhythm. And without even trying, she made it feel like this wasn’t temporary.

Like this was theirs.

Bennett watched her, something in his chest going still in a way that told him he’d found the eye of the storm.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t waiting to be displaced. Wasn’t looking for the catch or the clock. Being here with her felt simple. Natural.

Right.

She turned and leaned against the counter across from him. “I know you’re not ready to talk about Theo,” she said softly. “But I hope you will.”

Bennett studied her. “You’re not going to push?”

“No. But I’m not going anywhere either.”

The pressure in his chest eased enough to breathe through.

She stepped closer, reaching up to brush her fingers over the short stubble along his jaw. “I’m here for you.”

His hands found her waist, his fingers curling against the hem of his shirt as he dragged her toward him.

“I need this,” he said. “You.”

She rose on her toes and met his mouth with a kiss that started slow and thoughtful.

It deepened quickly, heat rising like a match struck too close to dry wood.

Need instantly surfaced, spreading through him like wildfire.

When he backed her toward the counter, she went willingly, lifting her arms so he could pull the shirt over her head.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured.

She was gorgeous, naked, and his.

Laurel leaned into him, her bare skin and tight nipples scraping against his chest, sending a sharp jolt straight through him.

Her wicked hand snaked between them, brushing over his abs, and his stomach quivered in response.

Then her hand was on the button of his jeans, tugging them open with a practiced flick a heart-pounding second before she slid her hand inside to grip his erection.

He groaned into her mouth and pulsed in her hand.

“Bedroom?” she whispered, removing her touch.

He shook his head, lifting her in one fluid motion and setting her on the edge of the counter. “Here’s good.”

She laughed, breathless, and wrapped her legs around him as he leaned in, kissing her like he didn’t want to stop.

Because he didn’t.

Hands wandered. Mouths moved.

She kissed him with a hunger that pushed reason aside. No teasing or hesitation. Just heat and trust and the kind of yes that came from someplace deeper than instinct.

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. He slid his hands up her quivering thighs and found her already slick, already aching for him.

“Killing me.”

Her laugh hitched on a gasp as he stroked her with firm, knowing pressure. She arched into him, her nails scraping over his back, her breath warm and uneven against his neck.

“Now,” she whispered. “Bennett…please.”

She didn’t need to beg.

He dropped onto his knees and placed his mouth where she needed him most.

She moaned and shifted closer, shoving her hands into his hair.

He held her hips and pulled her in tight as he licked and sucked, slowly and deliberately, each stroke designed to undo her.

She sure as hell was undoing him.

Laurel’s breath stuttered, her hips jerking forward before his hands anchored her. He didn’t let up. Just pressed deeper, teasing her with the flat of his tongue, then circling until her moans turned ragged and desperate.

“Bennett…” Her voice cracked as her thighs began to tremble, her fingers tightening in his hair like she needed something to hold on to.

He groaned low against her, and the sound, the vibration must’ve sent her over because she flew apart with a cry that sent a fresh jolt of arousal ricochetting through him. She bucked wildly and rode out her climax, her glorious breasts bouncing in tandem.

Only when her movements subsided did he ease back and rise to his feet.

Her eyes were still heavy-lidded, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. And when she looked at him, the satisfaction and something warmer in her eyes stole his breath.

“That’s my new favorite way to start the day.” She grinned.

He choked out a laugh. “Mine, too, but I’m not done yet.”

With practice ease, he shucked his jeans and briefs before he grabbed a condom from his wallet. Need darkened her gaze as she watched him tear it open and roll it on.

“Where were we?” he said, stepping close to drag his mouth up her throat, stopping just below her ear. “Oh, right—me, right here, making you forget your own name.”

Then he was between her thighs again, one hand sliding behind her knee to anchor her as he aligned and pushed inside in one long, spine-melting thrust.

Laurel gasped, her head tipping back as her body took him in. Deep. Full.

Perfect.

Bennett groaned, his forehead pressed to her collarbone as he gave her a second to adjust—then he began to move.

The rhythm started slow, deliberate, hips rolling against her as fire tore up his spine. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her heels locking behind his back to pull him closer, deeper.

She moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it, kissing her like he needed it to survive.

They fit so well, as if her body had been built to align with his perfectly.

He drove into her again, rougher this time, and she met him without flinching, her hands now bracing against the counter, and she broke the kiss, her mouth open on a moan that hit him low and deep.

“God, you feel good,” he rasped against her throat, his control fraying with every thrust.

Laurel stayed with him stroke for stroke, her hands roaming his back, nails dragging just enough to make him shiver. She was breathless and beautiful, her whole body shaking around him as the pressure climbed between them again.

There was nothing gentle about the way they moved. It was desperate and hot and threaded with tension that had been building for days.

Her mouth found his, and she kissed him like she wanted to consume him. Like she didn’t care where he ended, and she began.

Need and hunger burned white-hot through Bennett. He thrust harder, deeper, and when he slid a hand between them and pressed his thumb just above their connection, she shattered.