Chapter Fifteen #5
I lean in until my breath mixes with hers, my voice low and rough.
“You ready for me, Berk?” I murmur against her lips before kissing her hard, tongues tangling in a messy, hungry rhythm.
“Hold on to me, baby.” Her arms loop around my neck without hesitation, fingers sinking into my hair.
“That’s it,” I whisper, sliding my hands down to grip her ass, guiding her up as I lift her against me, our bodies meeting in one deep, desperate motion as I slam deep.
Instantly, her body tightens around me, pulling me deeper as another wave overtakes her. Her voice breaks through the steam, raw and breathless. “Yes, Em… please—fuck me. Hard. I need it. Please.” She wiggles as the words spill from her in a broken rush, desperate and aching.
“Fuck, baby… hold still for me a second.” My fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to bruise, and the thought of her wearing my marks sends my pulse racing.
“Your pussy’s so tight… so wet.” I move again, slow at first, sliding through her slick heat until a groan rumbles out of me.
“Paradise,” I whisper against her ear before nipping at the tender spot beneath it, drawing a startled yelp from her lips.
She tightens around me, voice trembling as she pleads, “Please… Em, please,” the words breaking apart in breathless, desperate sounds.
I press her harder against the cool tile, gripping her hips to angle her exactly how I want.
The first thrust draws a cry from both of us, a raw, broken sound that fills the steamy air.
I move faster, harder, losing rhythm to instinct.
She clings to me, nails scraping my shoulders, and all I can think is how right it feels—how inevitable.
“I should be fucking you in a bed,” I grit out between breaths, even as I keep driving into her.
“You deserve more than this… more than a quick fuck in the shower.” The words shake loose from somewhere deep, but I can’t stop, can’t slow down.
“You deserve everything,” I roar as I shift my angle and feel her body break apart again around me.
We fall together, her release dragging mine out of me until I’m spilling into her, shaking from the force of it.
She goes soft in my arms, and I hold her up, both of us gasping for air.
My forehead drops against hers, the water running down our faces like rain.
“Damn, baby,” I whisper, still trembling, my chest pressed to hers as the world finally stills.
She giggles, her legs slipping from around my waist until her feet touch the floor.
“I can barely feel my legs,” she says between shaky breaths, laughter soft and breathless.
She’s trembling, but it doesn’t stop me from catching her hips and turning her around and slamming back into her.
Berk cries out, her pussy tightening again, every sound she makes telling me how close she is.
“I’ve waited a long time to feel you wrapped around me,” I rasp, my voice rough with obsession.
“Once isn’t nearly enough.” I spread her ass, watching my cock slide in and out of her tight cunt, every movement desperate and consuming.
Her palms press flat to the tiles, bracing herself as we find that fierce, unrelenting rhythm.
Steam rises between us, the sound of our breathing turning ragged and hungry.
She’s breathtaking like this—wild, unguarded, completely mine in this moment.
A shiver runs through me as I lean in close, my mouth brushing her ear.
“You going to stay with me, sweetheart?” I whisper in her ear, my voice rough with satisfaction. “Take everything I give you.”
“Yes… please,” she gasps, breathless and trembling. “Don’t stop.”
Jesus.
She’s going to be the death of me—but if this is how I go, I’ll die happy.
Finally, I lose control, my rhythm stuttering.
Her body tightens around me, pulling me under until everything blurs.
My legs tremble, barely holding my weight—and hers—when she starts to collapse against the shower wall.
I turn her gently and pull her close. Her wet blonde and purple hair clings to her face, and I brush it aside just to see her expression, dazed and beautiful in the aftermath.
She giggles again; her fingers splay across my wet chest. “Damn, Em.”
I chuckle, knowing the truth—since I’m still holding most of her weight against me. I kiss her softly, her lips warm and pliant beneath mine. Then I nuzzle her like a tamed creature craving affection, and she doesn’t disappoint, her hand sliding through my hair in slow, soothing strokes.
I growl low in my throat; the sound vibrating between us as I nuzzle her neck again, breathing her in.
The scent of her mixed with soap and steam is enough to make my pulse skip.
Without words, I guide her back under the spray, letting the water wash away what’s left of the chaos clinging to our skin.
The heat’s fading, but the touch of her body against mine keeps me warm.
I reach for the body wash and squeeze it into my hand, working it into a lather before running my palms over her shoulders, down her arms, and across her back.
She’s quiet, her eyes half-closed, trusting me completely.
Every soft sound she makes sinks deep into me, grounding me in this strange, fragile peace.
I rinse her gently, then reach for the shampoo, pouring some into my hands and working it through her hair with slow, deliberate movements.
The bright strands slip between my fingers like silk, and she hums under her breath when I massage her scalp.
When the water turns cool, I shut it off and grab a towel from the rack.
I wrap it around her slight frame, pulling her close as I dry her off.
My hands linger longer than they should, tracing the curve of her shoulder, the line of her jaw, just needing to memorize her again.
She leans into me, eyes soft and lips curved in that quiet smile that wrecks me every time.
Her eyes are heavy, her body soft with exhaustion, and I can tell sleep is pulling at her.
When we’re dry enough, I guide her gently down the hall, my hand resting at the small of her back as the low light spills across her skin.
In the bedroom, I take the towel from around her body and use it to dry the ends of her hair again.
The strands cling to my fingers, and she watches me with that half-sleepy, half-amused expression that makes my chest tighten.
When I’m sure she’s dry enough, I pull the blankets back and help her slide beneath them.
She sighs, curling into the softness, her hair fanning out over the pillow.
I pause for a moment, holding the edge of the sheet above her, unable to stop my eyes from roaming.
Every inch of her is a map I’ve been missing for too long.
Her skin glows faintly in the dim light, marked with the faintest traces of our time together.
My throat works, swallowing hard, when I finally drag my gaze back up to her face.
She’s watching me now, one brow arched in challenge, the corner of her mouth twitching into a grin.
“What?” I tease, voice a low, possessive growl. “Can’t stare at what’s mine?”
Berk’s lips curve into a sleepy smile, her lashes low but her gaze still burning with that spark that always wrecks me.
“You can stare all you want,” she murmurs, voice soft and warm enough to melt steel.
“In fact, you could come to bed with me too.” Her words come out with a teasing lilt, but her eyes are already fighting to stay open, exhaustion written in every slow blink.
I laugh quietly and lean down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, feeling her skin twitch beneath my lips.
“Not tonight, baby,” I whisper against her.
“You get some sleep. One of us will be in soon, promise.” I tug the blanket higher, tucking it around her shoulders until she’s wrapped up like a precious little burrito.
We’ve all seen it—the way she thrashes when she sleeps alone, the uneven breaths when the nightmares find her.
None of us can stand it. And none of us will ever allow her to wake up afraid and by herself again.
I brush her hair back one last time and straighten, my voice low and certain. “Night, baby. Get some sleep.”
I make it halfway to the door before I hear her soft voice cut through the quiet.
“Em.” My name catches on her tongue, a little breathless, a little afraid.
I turn, and she’s sitting up just enough for the moonlight to touch her face and tops of her breasts.
The shyness in her smile surprises me, especially after what we just shared.
“What is it, baby?” I ask, my voice is gentler than I expect.
Her fingers twist in the blanket at her chest, and then she whispers, fragile and real. “I love you.”
For a second, the words hang between us, too heavy and too right all at once. My chest tightens, and I can’t help the way my throat burns when I answer. “Love you too, baby,” I tell her. “Always have. Always will.”
She lets out a soft breath; the tension sliding fully from her shoulders as her eyes flutter shut—like she hadn’t expected the same care, the same quiet reassurance, and is finally allowing herself to accept it.
I stand there a moment longer, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the peace that finally settles over her face as she quickly slips into sleep.
I leave the door cracked just enough for the light to spill through and make my way down the hall where the guys are waiting.
When I walk into the War Room, the twins are already there, lounging. The second they spot me, matching grins spread across their faces. Ronan, of course, is the first to open his mouth.
“Well…” he drawls, stretching the word out like he’s winding up for a punchline. “I’d ask where Berk is, but judging by the noises earlier, I’m guessing she’s… asleep now?” His grin turns unmistakably devilish as he claps me on the back, the impact hard enough to send me stumbling a step forward.
My eyes roll as I shove him lightly. “You’re an ass, you know that?”
“Yeah,” he says without hesitation, flashing that cocky grin that’s both infuriating and weirdly reassuring. “But I’m also right.”
Across the table, Rowan hides his smile behind a sip of coffee that looks like it’s been sitting there for hours.
He’s quieter than his twin, more measured, but I catch the faint curl at the corner of his mouth before he schools his features again.
He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the ease creeping back into him—the kind that’s been missing for too long.
“Don’t start,” I warn, pointing at him. “I’ve had enough of your brother’s smug face for one night.”
Rowan lifts his brows, pretending innocence. “Who, me? I’m not saying anything.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, “that’s what makes it worse.”
The twins laugh, the sound filling the space and softening some of our edges that have been sharp for far too long. For a moment, it almost feels normal—three idiots in a room, trading jabs like nothing outside these walls exists.
But the calm doesn’t last. Ronan stretches and leans back in his chair, the grin slipping away and sharpening into something more serious. “Jokes aside,” he says, “we can’t slow down. Bryce isn’t going to sit still after what happened today.”
“Yeah,” I say, dropping into the chair across from them. “And with Dean going radio silent, I don’t like it. That’s not panic—it’s preparation.”
Rowan nods slowly, his fingers drumming on the tabletop. “You think they’re splitting?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Or they’re testing each other. Either way, it gives us an opening. Berk’s got eyes on the last warehouse. We hit that right, it’ll gut what’s left of their network.”
Ronan grins again, but this time he looks like a demon. “Good,” he says. “Then let’s make it a hit they don’t crawl back from.”
I meet his gaze, the same silent understanding passing between us that’s been there since we were kids. “We will,” I say, steady and certain. “We finish what they started.”
For a while, none of us speaks. The hum of the monitors and the low whir of the ceiling fan fill the silence, wrapping the room in a kind of stillness that isn’t uncomfortable, just heavy.
We’ve done enough talking for one night—enough fighting, too.
What hangs between us now is the quiet understanding that tomorrow will demand more, and that tonight might be the last piece of calm we get for a while.
Ronan’s the one to break the silence, his voice low but carrying that same rough-edged warmth that’s uniquely his. “Brother,” he says, glancing toward Rowan, “why don’t you go take care of our girl tonight? We shouldn’t let her be alone for long.”
Rowan lifts his head, meeting his twin’s gaze.
For a second, he hesitates, like he’s trying to gauge if Ronan’s serious or just teasing.
But then he nods, no argument, no excuses.
He leaves his half-empty coffee on the table; the mug clinking softly as he stands.
His shoulders are still a little tense, but there’s something steadier in his steps as he walks out. Progress. Small, but real.
When the door clicks shut behind him, the air shifts again. Ronan leans back in his chair, his grin slow and dangerous—a smile that’s equal parts trouble and pride.
I arch a brow at him. “What?” I ask, though I already know that expression too well.
He shrugs, the smirk deepening. “We’re almost whole again, brother.”
The words land harder than I expect. Not because of what he says, but how he says it—not cocky, not triumphant, just certain.
Like he can see the fractures in all of us knitting together at last. My gaze flicks to the door where Rowan slipped out moments ago, then back to Ronan.
And damn it—he’s right. For the first time in years, it feels like we’re inching back toward solid ground.
“Yeah,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck, a small smile tugging at my lips. “We’re getting there.”
Ronan hums his agreement and lifts his drink in my direction, casual but deliberate. “To family,” he says.
I tap my cup against his, the clink ringing through the quiet room. “To family,” I repeat—and for the first time, the word doesn’t feel fractured. It feels like a promise.