Free Hush by Carey Baldwin

wanting to drive him to the brink, as he’d done to her, but he clasped her wrists and dragged her back up. “Next time.”
    Her hands gripped the sheets on the bed. He’d spoken as if he were certain there would be a next time. She couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think at all.
    Charlie spread her open and positioned her how he wanted her, with the head of his cock pressing against her opening.
    “Kiss me,” he said.
    His words rippled thorough her like tiny shock waves.
    Impossible .
    They’d shared so much, been through so much together, and yet they’d never shared a kiss—not a real one. His lips had been on her hands, her neck, her back—her most intimate places, but they’d never…
    “Yes,” she said. “I will.”
    Her heart hammered in her chest . This was what she longed for. More than anything, she wanted to kiss him. She bent her face to his, and he dropped his head back in surrender. She relished taking the lead, brushing her lips over his, curling her fingers through his thick, sweat-dampened hair. His mouth opened beneath hers, and their tongues met and tangled, slowly at first, then urgently.
    His hands found her hips and guided her back in place. Slowly, she let him stretch her, enter her, fill her. She rubbed her breasts and belly over him and he moved inside her following her rhythm, letting her set the pace. The pleasure built and built. Wanting to prolong the sensation, she paused, but her control was too thin. With her next small movement, his next upward thrust, her muscles clenched around him. One climax ended, and then a second wave engulfed her. He bucked beneath her, and let out a loud, guttural moan. Pressure welled inside her yet again, but it wasn’t only her orgasm, this was something more, something coming from deep, deep inside. While her body trembled around him, her throat spasmed from the effort of containing her cries.
    “Let it go, sweetheart. It’s safe here.” His hand found hers.
    She looked at Charlie’s beautiful face, and then a series of loud, primal moans came shuddering out of her mouth. Joy poured through her, lifting her heart. She was making noise— a lot of it, and it felt so damn good.

Chapter Eight

    Near Tangleheart: Tuesday, 6:00 A.M.
    C HARLIE GLANCED IN the cabin’s bathroom mirror, dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair and shut down the emotion that made it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. Anna had turned away from his kiss when they’d awakened this morning, but now was not the time to dwell on the matter.
    They’d taken a few hours to rest, just until the first light of morning began sifting through the cabin windows—it would’ve been futile to work by moonlight, and they needed sleep badly. Grateful the property owners had kept the water on, if not the electricity, he washed his hands, and then exited the bathroom.
    He found Anna in the kitchen. The sun’s first rays pinked her skin and floated a halo of light above her freshly brushed hair. Her blood-shot eyes sported dark circles below. She looked like an angel—an angel who’d just pulled a double shift at Billy Bob’s.
    A piece of old poster board had been laid out on the picnic-style table, and some colored pens leaned in a jelly-jar glass. Apparently, librarians carried colored pens in their purses. Anna had removed the newspaper clippings from the folder and judging from her assorted piles she’d wasted no time getting started on them.
    “Morning, beautiful.” He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.
    He couldn’t help himself.
    Her shoulders jumped, and she quickly slipped out of his embrace. Clearing her throat, she pointed to the warped piece of poster board on the tabletop. “I thought we’d make a murder board.”
    Uncomprehending, and more than a little put off, he turned his palms up.
    “You know, like the one Beckett uses on Castle. I think it’s a good way to get organized, and I want to—”
    “Get our ducks