The controlled pace was both maddening and delicious. They writhed against each other, driven by the need for a hard pounding tempo that would dull the reality of their inevitable parting.

Brian withdrew suddenly. She cried out in protest, her womb spasming with need.

“Fuck this noisy bed,” he growled. He hauled her up and carried her to the wall by the bathroom, pinning her to the flat surface with a desperate thrust into her.

She gasped at the rough impalement, potently aroused by his ferocity, knowing it came from the need to ignore the swiftly passing time.

“ Yes,” he hissed as her pussy spasmed in greedy delight. “Hold on, baby.”

Clenching her hips in a fierce grip, he worked her up and down on his throbbing erection, his thrusts fast and furious.

She moaned, her nails digging into his back. “Harder. Deeper. Yes. Oh God . . . I’m coming.”

He fucked through her climax, dragging it out, making it last, watching her quake with the force of the sensations tearing through her. “That’s it. Give it to me, Layla.”

Finally, the racking tension left her. Her body sagged in the aftermath of the violent orgasm. But Brian kept working her, slamming his hips against hers as he shoved his way through the tightened grip of her sated pussy.

As the pleasure built again, Layla moaned. “Brian.”

“One more time,” he rasped, the strain of holding out evident in his tightly clenched jaw.

Grinding his pelvis against her clit, he brought her off. He cursed as she cried out and rippled along his length, his cock jerking as he came in thick spurts of white-hot semen.

His knee hit the wall with a harsh thud; his big body crowded hers as he leaned into her for support. With his lips to her throat, he groaned through the wrenching orgasm, clutching her hard while she trembled in his arms.

“I love you.” He nuzzled his perspiration-slick forehead against her cheek. “And your golden pussy, as you called it, is going to kill me. It’s going to suck the life right out of me one day. But, man . . . what a way to go.”

Layla laughed, his humor unexpected and welcome. She felt him smile against her skin, the moment as intimate as the climax they’d just shared. He stumbled back to the bed with her, staying inside her, even as they sank back into the mattress.

She pushed her hands into his sweat-soaked hair and held him close. “I want you to be happy. I want that more than anything in the world.”

“I know.” He pushed his arms beneath her shoulders and squeezed her.

“I don’t want to make you miserable.”

“Then stop talking about this, Layla.”

“That is so like a man,” she muttered. “Ignore a situation and hope it goes away.”

He nipped the tender spot between her neck and shoulder with his teeth. “I’m not promising to forget you or move on without you. Give it up.”

“Promise me you won’t let my memory get in the way of having a good life.” Her fingers massaged his scalp. “I can’t bear the thought of you waiting around for another chance that we might see each other a decade or more down the road.”

He lifted his head and looked down at her. “And if I did run across you, will you have moved on? Will you be married and happy?”

The mere thought caused physical pain in her chest. Perceptive as he was, Brian saw it. “Thought so. I rest my case.”

“Brian—”

“Go to sleep.”

She wondered how she was supposed to do that, with his heavy body atop hers and his cock still inside her. But she would never complain. She wanted the feeling imprinted on her skin, a vivid memory she would hold on to in the years to come.

Chapter 10

Brian was staring out the kitchen window at the pre-dawn sky when Jack reentered the room. The other deputy had come in earlier to make coffee shortly after Brian first left his guest room. This time, Jack was dressed. Like Brian, he wore his shoulder holster, and his badge was clipped to his belt.

Brian tossed back the rest of his cooled coffee and went to the coffeemaker for another cup. Despite his lack of sleep, he was wired. It was a big day. The biggest of his life.

Leaning his back against the countertop, he crossed his feet at the ankles and looked Jack over. It wasn’t yet three in the morning and the man had his boots on. “Why are you dressed?”

“I’m coming with you, of course.”

“The hell you are.”

Jack smiled. “You’re a ray of sunshine in the morning, Simmons.”

“Rachel needs you.”

“She’s got me.”

“This is my gamble to make. Stay here.”

“No can do.” Jack ’s dark eyes were hard, his shoulders set. “That lady of yours has a very important appointment tomorrow and you need more eyes.”

“Fuck.” Brian couldn’t argue against the need for help and more comprehensive protection for Layla. He wouldn’t. The only argument he could make was a personal plea for Jack to put himself first, and Layla’s testimony trumped that. “These guys aren’t fucking around, Jack.”

“Rachel accepts the risks. Did you call Jim?”

“I tried last night. Left a message. There was nothing in his recorded greeting that suggested trouble. He would have slipped in something I’d recognize if I needed to watch my back.”

“Okay. So you and Layla will take my truck, and I’ll follow in the Bronco.”

Brian shoved a hand through his shower-damp hair. “For the record, I strongly object to your involvement, Killigrew.”

“You’ll get over it.”

When they pulled over in Flagstaff for breakfast, Brian took a few minutes to leave a message on the AUSA’s office voice mail. Then he switched to a new disposable cell phone and called Doug Preston, a supervisory deputy U.S. marshal in the Southern District of California. Relying on voice mail again, he explained the situation in a low, steady tone. He started with the explosion and ended with his anticipated arrival in San Diego. Aside from the last, he fully expected the information to be a rehash of what was already known, but Brian wanted his version of the events to be recorded in case something prevented him from giving a statement later. The closer they got to San Diego, the more dangerous the situation would become. He had to make sure he protected Layla with the truth as he knew it, even if he couldn’t do so in the flesh.

Jack approached with a newly refilled soda in hand. “You sure you want to do that?”

Realizing the other deputy had eavesdropped, Brian shot him a wry glance as he pulled the battery from the phone. “You wouldn’t if you were in my shoes?”

“I would, but I’m your friend. I have to ask.”

Brian nodded, biting back further words when Layla stepped out of the restroom. He offered her a quick smile and she returned it, but they knew each other too well to hide anything from each other. She knew he was feeling raw. Twisted up over her, over her safety, over how much he loved her. Her eyes said it all in return.

“You ready?” he asked when she took his hand.

“No.”

He tightened his grip on her and shielded her the distance to the trucks.

“Criminal justice, you said. Do you like it?”

Layla looked at Brian as they crossed the border from Arizona into California. He’d started trying to distract her about a half hour prior and she was going along with it as much as she was able, considering she had a knotted stomach and heavy heart. “I do.”

“You sound surprised.”

“It was a bit unexpected,” she confessed. “I knew I wouldn’t hate it, but I didn’t realize I’d love it.”

He glanced aside at her and smiled in the way she loved—halfwicked, half-tender.

She looked out the front window at the desert vista around them. “God, I’ve missed Cali.”

“You’re a native; you’ll always miss it.”

“How about you? Are you on the East Coast now?”

“For now. I’ve been moving around, taking transfers when I can.”

“Do you like it?” she asked, tossing his question back at him. The thought of Brian living a nomadic existence filled her with sadness. “The hopping around?”

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Moving keeps me busy.”

“What did you do with your house?”

“I sold it.”

“You loved that house.” She had loved it, too. She’d been with him when he bought it and had seen the possibilities in the older Anaheim home. But what he’d done with it exceeded her imaginings. He had torn out the carpet and installed dark wood floors. Light rugs and walls paired with mostly black furniture had made the ’50s-era home both modern and masculine. She’d given him a multicolored blown glass vase for a splash of color and he had placed it in a place of prominence, even installing track lighting to spotlight it.

“I loved the idea of the house,” he corrected. “The idea of sharing it with you and watching you change it like you were changing me. Once you joined WITSEC I knew you’d never be coming back to SoCal, so the house lost its charm.”

“Brian.” Layla sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re killing me.”

He reached over and linked his fingers with hers. “No more than your change of major kills me.”

“Have we both been living for a future we have no possibility of having? And making amends for mistakes, even though we couldn’t know what the other was doing?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “What else were we going to live for?”

It broke her heart to realize that he was right. Somewhere, in the back of her mind and deep in her heart, she’d been taking each day one at a time, waiting for the impossible moment when she’d see Brian again. She hadn’t been able to picture a world in which they breathed the same air yet would be separated forever.

Her hand tightened on his. “I love you, Brian.”

As often as she said it, she felt like she couldn’t say it enough. The painful fact was that she’d given up on him when she walked out. If he took anything away from the last few days with her, she wanted it to be that he was loved.