A Night of Southern Comfort Read Free Page A

open for his invasion. He propped himself up on his forearms, burying himself inside her body, the urge to move overwhelming. He forced himself to remain still. He loved this part. It was like base-jumping—standing on the edge, toes curled, muscles taut, adrenaline intensifying every sound, taste, smell, and touch. The precipice was a rush but the free fall was so much better.
    But he didn’t want to take this leap alone.
    As if she could read his mind, Gwyneth’s eyes fluttered open and his breath caught at the naked desire in their depths. Working as a deep-cover cop, his survival depended on him being the invisible man, but she saw him—really saw him—and he understood the meaning of regret. His choices made it impossible for him to pursue a woman like Gwyneth.
    Her voice was a ragged whisper. “Please.”
    Compelled to take what he could from their one night, he yielded to the lust that raged through him. He rode her, plunging deeper, harder, worried he was hurting her but unable to stop. Gwyneth wrapped her legs around his waist, the dig of her heels in his lower back demanding he hold nothing back.
    “Please. I can’t…I want… Make me come.”
    Her breathy plea raised goose bumps on his skin He didn’t need an explanation to understand what she needed from him. The prize was hovering on the edge of his sanity and he didn’t care what lay beyond as long as he got there. Ignoring the scream of his body when he stopped moving, he grabbed one of her hands, lifted her arm over her head and braced her palm flat against the headboard. She stared at him, her expression wary.
    “Hold on.” Jack ordered. “I’ll get you there.”
    When she duplicated the action with the other hand, Jack took a deep breath and began the deliberate descent back into madness with a series of low thrusts. He drank in the sight of her body, stretched and vulnerable beneath him. The sight of his cock plunging in and out of her tight heat switched on his autopilot, electricity shooting down his spine and settling heavy in his balls. With shallow, fast strokes he pounded into her, now desperate to hang on until he could live up to his earlier bragging.
    But damn if she didn’t test his endurance.
    Braced against the headboard, Gwyneth met his every thrust with equal force. He gritted his teeth, but focused on her face. Damned if he’d miss how she looked when she came. Just when he feared he’d break first, her orgasm, swift and fierce, hit them both like a freight train and milked him until he had no choice but to follow her over the edge.
    Gasping and covered in a sheen of sweat, they lay motionless in a tangle of arms and legs. Jack’s ears rang from the blood rushing through his body at a rate that might have killed a man with less motivation to live. But he faced the prospect of an entire night with this woman, and he’d be damned if he let something as trivial as dying make him miss a moment of it.
    And one night was all it could ever be.
    Gwyneth was real, determined, and his sexual match in every way. She was the kind of woman who could distract him from getting back to the job he needed and loved. A woman had taken his career from him once and he’d move heaven and hell before he let it happen again. In the maze of undercover assignments, he’d lost sight of himself and the last year had shown just how badly he needed the job. It was all he had.
    Banishing those dark thoughts, Jack stirred and leaned over to dispose of the condom before pulling her back into his arms. With a contented sigh, Gwyneth rested her head on his chest, their legs intertwined.
    She was the first to break the silence. “That was…”
    “Incredible.”
    “Yeah.”
    He grinned. Gwyneth raised an eyebrow. “What are you smiling about?”
    “I made you beg.”
    “No, you didn’t.”
    He leaned up on an elbow, prepared to argue. He’d made her beg. She’d said please. Several times.
    “I didn’t beg you to stop.” Her grin lit up her whole