I palm one of her perfect breasts as my lips find the other. Kissing, flicking, and teasing. Kneading, tweaking, and caressing. Her back bows up off the bed as I continue the tantalizing ministrations, and I’m afraid I may come just by watching her writhe under my touch.

“Please, Madden," she moans. “Please . . . I need you.”

Her begging my name may be the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, an enticing song of desperation and desire, and it takes every bit of willpower I have not to sink deep inside of her with one greedy thrust. Primed for the taking, her naked body sprawled out is nearly my undoing. But I force myself to slow down.

Descending down her tight body, I use my shoulders against her inner thighs to keep them spread wide. My mouth shadows my hand's pattern, taunting and teasing as I slip between her soft petals and flit across her swollen bundle of nerves. Up and down, back and forth, my fingers and tongue torment her relentlessly as I revel in the feel, smell, and taste of her arousal.

"Inside," she pants, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes the slats in the headboard. "I need you inside me now, Madden."

My entire body trembles with anticipation as I glide back up her frame, lining my throbbing head up with her drenched slit. I can’t deny either of us any longer. I need to feel the connection to her as much as she needs it from me.

Fully consumed by all things Blake, I slowly work my way inside of her tight core. With each sweet inch I get closer to be being fully buried, I can feel her body stretch to accommodate my girth. And it’s fucking heaven.

Careful not to pin her with my weight, I prop myself up on my elbows so that my face is directly above hers as I begin to stroke my steeled shaft in and out of her warm, welcoming center. Gradually. Deliberately. Lovingly.

“I love you so much,” I murmur against her mouth, my rhythm steadily increasing. “I’ll never stop.”

Letting go of the bed, she wraps both her arms and legs around me, her heels digging into my ass as her fingers twist in my thick, unkempt hair. Our bodies are pressed so tightly together I’m not sure where I end and she begins. Yet I still feel the need for her to be closer. We move as one. We breathe as one. And we love as one.

Our climaxes build together, fueling one another as we race toward the peak of ecstasy. I’m not sure if it’s her release that triggers mine, or vice versa, but either way, when we fly off the cliff into our blissful nirvana, we’re there together. Our fingers interlaced. Our lips locked. And our hearts fused together. Forever.

“So let me make sure I get this straight.” Blake places a bowl of some delicious smelling stew in front of me then slides onto the other chair at the dinette I’ve moved close to me. “You just walked into Capo’s Car Creations, unarmed, and asked to speak to Vincent?”

After I had my wicked way with her twice more, Blake suddenly remembered all the food she’d left out to prepare when I’d arrived, so we reluctantly left the bed and moved into the kitchen for her to cook. I’m happy to see she’s being well fed and that there aren’t any new scars on her sides. I’ve spent countless hours not only worried about her physical safety, but also her mental state. Seeing her look ‘normal’ eases a tiny bit of my concern.

At her request, I’ve recounted every possible detail I can remember from the time I realized she was missing until the moment I walked through the door to the cabin several hours ago, and she’s done the same. Nothing she reveals to me surprises me much, but I’m thrilled to find out she hasn’t been mistreated once. And although I’d rather not discuss it at all in our limited time together, I understand it’s a necessary evil.

Nodding once, I grimace along with my confession. “Yeah, I realize it wasn’t the best thought-out plan, but I was out-of-my-mind crazy, Blake. I had to do something.”

“Please eat your food before it gets cold.” She stares at my spoon until I pick it up then returns to the original conversation. “What were you gonna do if he was there? Demand he release me? Challenge him to a fist fight?”

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly after taking a bite. “I’m sure it’s a blessing he wasn’t there and that I was only left to deal with Tony the Tiger. He may have gotten the best of me that day, but if I ever see him again . . .”

Her silverware clinks against the bowl as she throws it down, shaking her head. “No! You are not doing anything else crazy or stupid. I’m already responsible for you being involved in this nightmare of mine. I won’t be able to live with myself if something else happens to you.”

“But I can’t live with myself without you, sweet girl.” Reaching out, I grab her arms and drag her over to sit in my lap. I need to feel her against me as much as possible. Thankfully, she doesn’t balk, and instead, slides her food and drink next to mine.

“Raze told me this morning that Vincent has come out of hiding and been in contact with Pakhan,” she says in a hushed voice.

“Pak-who?”

“Pakhan. Anatoli Kabinov. It’s like the Russian’s equivalent to the Godfather,” she explains matter-of-factly. “Anyway, Raze told me that talks have started, so hopefully we can all just get on with this soon, and I’ll be free to move on afterward.”

I sigh as I rest my temple against hers, trying my best to fight back the trepidation threatening to consume me. “I don’t like this plan, Blake. First, I don’t understand if they’re using you to lure Vincent to wherever, why can’t one of them kill him? Why does it have to be you?”

She doesn’t offer up an answer, so I assume that means she doesn’t have a good one. Then I bring up my next point, which is the one that concerns me the most. “And do you seriously think that after all of this—with everything you now know about their organization and this job—that Kabinov is really just gonna let you walk away? Free and clear?”

Skepticism washes over her face as she contemplates my questions, and it’s not that I have any alternatives or suggestions, but I’m afraid the stress and trauma of the entire situation is hindering her ability to think this through.

“Raze gave me his word that he’d keep me safe. He won’t let anyone hurt me,” she contends stubbornly.

Dropping my face to the side of her neck, I nuzzle the smooth, soft skin as I pepper kisses all around. “Look, I understand this Raze guy has been good to you, and I know he’s the one solely responsible for my being here right now . . . God, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. But his loyalty is to his family, sweet girl. If shit hits the fan when this all goes down, I have a hard time believing he’s going to choose you over one of his own.”

She doesn’t reply, and rather than pressuring her to speak, I start to feed her the hearty soup with her spoon. I love taking care of this woman, providing any and every thing she needs or wants, and it’s killing me that I can’t fix this situation. Other than alerting the FBI or Doherty to her broad whereabouts, which I’m afraid would lead to serious repercussions for all of us once the Kabinovs and Riccis found out, I have no solutions.

I’m trying not to dwell on it, but the reality remains that unless Blake or I can get her out of this mess—and quick-like—there’s a very real possibility this may be our last time together. The thought of that makes me manic, suicidal even, because I don’t want to live the rest of this life without her. I have to save her. She’s my Blake. I simply don’t work without her.

After both of our bowls are empty, she slides off my thighs and rinses our dishes out in the sink. Then, pulling a thermos down from one of the small cabinets, she fills it with the stew. I can do nothing but sit and watch her. I’m so fucking overwhelmed by her, especially now that I know the life she’s had to endure.