Page 23 of Echo, the Sniper (Men of PSI #2)

The hands that held mine squeezed. “The most important thing you need to remember about yourself is that you’re free , probably for the first time in your life.

That’s going to take some getting used to.

But there’s no pressure to be anything, yeah?

Take all the time you need to find out what you like and don’t like.

Sample everything that catches your attention, and dive into whatever it is that makes you happy.

If you can do that, you’ll be winning at life. ”

That would be a first. “Whatever makes me happy,” I repeated, wrinkling my nose up at him. “Would it be pathetic to admit that I can hardly remember what that feels like?”

“Not pathetic, and not surprising.” One of his hands let go of mine so he could cup my cheek in the warmth of his palm.

“Your ex poisoned a good portion of your life, so it’s going to take more than a minute to clear that crap out of your system.

But I swear you’re free of that piece of shit, Rory.

You can prove that to yourself every damn time you go for things that make you feel good.

Feel alive . Go for what makes you happy like it’s the last shot you’ll ever have, because life was meant to be fucking lived , not endured. ”

Something cracked deep inside, as if his words kicked off an internal earthquake.

The shell around my heart, around me , began to crumble, and the person ready to emerge from that battle-hardened cocoon was someone new to me.

Someone who believed there might be more to this life than pain and disappointment and she was ready to do what he said, and dive in.

No. Not she .

Me .

I was ready.

Without another word, I rolled up on my tiptoes to press my mouth to his.

Dive in.

My heart nearly burst out of my chest when he met me halfway, his hand coming to snag around the nape of my neck. Relief flowed in tandem with a crazy surge of desire. Thank goodness he was as on board with this as I was.

My dim view of kissing continued to undergo its metamorphosis now that the man I kissed was Echo.

His mouth on me made me insane . My pulse tripped over itself at how he sealed his lips to mine, as if it was his mission in life to perfect the fit.

I loved how the hand at my nape pulled me in while still giving me room to step back if that was what I wanted.

I didn’t want that. What I wanted was to be closer, so I leaned into his warm, hard body, my arms tightening around his neck.

A low rumble of approval sounded from him, and before I knew it the sweep of his tongue teased the seam of my lips.

I opened them immediately, and my senses went into a frenzy at the feel of him—the rich, coffee-flavored taste of him.

The perfect pressure of his lips. His tongue working sensuous magic against mine.

All of it—all of him —was heart-stopping.

And I wanted more.

I angled my mouth under his while sliding a hand from his neck down to his chest, and I thrilled at the furious thudding of his heart.

That wild beat was because of me , I marveled, hardly able to grasp it.

My touch and taste affected him. I affected him.

I made his heart pound and skin heat, something that thrilled me so much I nearly moaned with it.

That overpowering heat rolled off of him, wild and feverish, enveloping me until my head spun.

A shocking slickness bloomed between my thighs, drawing a surprised gasp from me.

I’d never experienced a sharp rush of need like this, never .

I felt the throb of my heart not just in my chest, but in those intimate folds that needed something, needed his touch, needed. .. him.

Just him .

If I didn’t get him between my legs I was going to lose my mind.

Which was crazy. I didn’t like sex. Hated it, really. But that was hardly surprising, since most of the time my late husband pinned me to the bed while I just gritted my teeth and endured those three to four minutes of what he’d called my “wifely duties.”

Ugh.

But with Echo, everything was different. No one had ever made me feel so wanted, so blatantly sexy , and he did this just by kissing me. And I...

I loved it.

With every stroke of his tongue he showed me a great truth—kissing was amazing , and it could be as intimate as the act of sex itself if it was done with the right person.

I leaned into him, trying to drown in the sensual sensations he’d unleashed in me.

I cupped a hand at the back of his head to make sure the most epic kiss ever kept going, while my other hand slid restlessly over the rock-hard plains of his upper back.

He felt like a dream. He had to be the greatest kisser on the continent, if not the whole freaking world.

That made me wonder if all that prowess extended to what he could do in bed.

A shudder went through me, and I knew he felt it when he smiled against my mouth. He raised his head a fraction, and I dragged my eyes open to find him looking down at me as if he couldn’t figure out who I was or why I held onto him like I was a sloth and he was my favorite tree.

Oh no.

“Before you accuse me of bodyguard-crushing, you kissed me back.” I jumped in to head off the whole blame-game I could see headed my way. “That was a whole lot of mutual kissing that just happened, and I know you liked it.” Probably not as much as I did, but whatever.

A brilliant smile broke first in his eyes before spilling onto his mouth. “Hell, yeah, I did. In fact, since we’re being honest here, you got the ball rolling a fraction of a second before I did.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Clue in, baby girl. When I encouraged you to go for what you wanted, you think that came from some altruistic place? Hell, no. I was going to make sure that I was the one you wanted to go for. The only reason you beat me to the punch was that I remembered at the last minute that you didn’t like kissing. ”

Oh, thank goodness . “I’m rethinking that stance in a big way.”

“Yeah?” Fire lit in his eyes, and the arms he had looped loosely around my back tightened. “Do tell. Why would that be?”

“You’re fishing for compliments, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.” His wicked grin told me he totally was.

“I can’t remember ever being kissed the way you kiss me.” I said the first thing that came to mind and hoped it would explain how utterly changed I felt. All because of him. “Which means I can’t really remember any other kiss but yours now. Trust me, that’s not a bad thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Something kindled in his eyes, a deep warmth as he reached up and smoothed a slow hand over my hair before tucking it behind my ear. “I’m all about erasing the bad parts of your life with whatever good I can give you. Erasing bad with good might be my superpower.”

“Oh, I believe it. You’re a natural.”

“You’re a natural too. At kissing and at other things too, or so I’d be willing to bet.” My heart suddenly tripped and faceplanted as his gaze caught mine. “Does that thought scare you? Be honest.”

My lungs decided to shrivel up to the size of raisins as his meaning hit me broadside. “You mean... sex?”

Of course he meant sex. I was an idiot for even asking.

But he nodded as if I hadn’t just asked the stupidest question on earth.

“I... don’t know.” A minute ago if he’d asked me, I would have dragged him back to the hotel room, or maybe even the nearest broom closet just so I could climb him like a tree.

But now, with my gaze held hostage by his and that stupid self-doubt starting to re-emerge, the tension began to lock my muscles back into place.

“I might not be all that, um... great. I mean, at sex.” Oh God, did people actually die of embarrassment? Clearly I was about to find out.

But all Echo did was shake his head and tighten his arms around me.

“Listen to me, Rory, because I’m going to let you in on a little secret, yeah?

Every time a man has sex, it’s a good time.

Even the worst lay ever is still a good lay, at least for the guy.

When a man gets off, he’s got all these ideas in his head about the woman he’s banging—mainly that she’s having as good a time as he is, because he’s feeling like a fucking porn star.

But the second he’s done coming his brains out and he sees that she’s obviously disappointed because he made her feel nothing.

.. well. If he’s a selfish dick who thinks he can do no wrong, he’s going to blame her for it.

Tell her she’s a bad fuck, that she couldn’t get a man off if she tried, never mind that she just did exactly that for him. ”

Boy, did that sound familiar.

“If you never got off, that wasn’t on you , Rory. That fault lies with the partner who didn’t put your needs first.”

My breath caught at the flutter of hope in my chest. “Really?”

“Really. I’d be more than happy to prove it to you.”

I could hardly believe my ears. “You... Aren’t you worried something like that would lead to, you know, a bodyguard crush issue?”

“That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I saw you gone from that bench and thought you’d slipped through my fingers forever without me doing what I should’ve done from the very beginning.

” His chest heaved on a breath, and it hit me that I’d seriously scared him.

“So what do you say? Unlike any other man who’s had the privilege of touching your perfect body, I’ll make damn sure you come until you’re insane with it.

I can prove there’s no way you’re bad at sex. ”

I stopped breathing and had no clue how to get it started again. “I...”