Page 61 of Mercenary

Several seconds pass before I hear her sigh.

I roll off of her and onto my back, needing to break contact.

Staring up at the ceiling, I study the chipped white paint, how it’s grayed with age. There’s a water mark directly overhead, from a broken, leaky faucet? It has to be caused by something. Something broken now hanging over me.

Madelyn shifts and rolls to her side. I can feel her eyes on me.

“She’s most vulnerable after sex. Take her in your arms.” I hear the psychologist’s training in my head. “Pretend she means something to you. Become someone who means something to her.”

Fuck that psychologist. Distance yourself. That’s more your speed.

“Is it always like that?” she whispers, traces of desire laced within her tone. Vulnerable, oh so vulnerable.

Fuck.

“Yes,” I ground out my lie. Ignoring everything I should be saying to make my task easier. A job. You’ve got a job to do.

I hear her sharp intake of breath.

Now there’s one more broken thing occupying the room.

19

Madelyn

Ipress my forehead against the passenger-side window, basking in the glow of sunbeams reflecting off flat fields of wheat, spreading a warm, cozy golden hue across the early morning landscape. Times like this remind me how beautiful, how serene Oklahoma can be.

Declan rests a palm on my thigh. He placed it there less than a half hour into our trip. For someone who keeps his emotions close to his chest, he’s pretty generous with his hands.

I’m that irresistible.

I give myself a mental eye roll, then grin, thinking how that’s something Luciana would say.

Declan likes sex, that’s all. He’s probably thinking about taking me in the back of his pickup right now.

I glance at him from beneath my eyelashes. Yep, no bold, come-hither stares from me. Despite the bravado sounding off in my head, the truth is I’m feeling shy about the whole thing.

Him moving inside me. Me arching my hips, deepening our connection. Us climaxing in unison, his groan vibrating like a drawn-out piano chord against the sensitive part of my neck.

A flush warms my skin.

I wave my hand in front of my face. Hot memory, hot rise in body temperature. Sweet Mary, the man runs his thumb across the leather steering wheel and I’m aroused.

Although I’m wearing a short floral skirt that flutters when I move, matched with a sleeveless top that hugs all the right curves, the scant, light clothing provides no relief. I swear, I’m on charbroil. And the skin beneath his palm will be the first part of me to combust.

And Declan?

I turn to him once more, wondering what he’s thinking and subtly watching him from beneath my eyelashes as he glides his thumb back and forth across the steering wheel.

Lord have mercy. Is this the unachievable afterglow Luciana seems to always be chasing yet never quite reaches?

Does Declan feel it too?

“Want the window down?” he asks.

“Okay,” I squeak.

He hits the button on his door and my window lowers. I turn my face into the breeze made by his pickup thundering down the barren roadway.