Chapter Thirteen
The following night.
The estate was too quiet. Dave lay back against the headboard, the Pacific’s low rumble threading faintly through the glass.
The house had emptied into its routines—Sparrow with his papers, Law pacing like a caged dog, Rip and Boston snapping at each other somewhere down the hall. Viper and Winter—in and out, planning.
But Stone… Stone hadn’t left his orbit all day.
Dave had seen it in every glance, felt it in the way Stone hovered too close at breakfast, storm-colored eyes fixed on the tremor in his hand when he reached for his coffee. The questions Stone didn’t ask lingered heavy, like a touch just shy of skin.
Now, in the dim light of his room, Dave tried to lose himself in a book he’d been meaning to finish for weeks.
Tried and failed. His body still remembered the brush of Stone’s thumb against his knuckles last night. His chest ached with something sharper than any warning the doctor had given.
The door creaked open.
Dave didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Only one man filled the doorway like that—broad shoulders blotting out the hall light, presence heavy enough to fill the air.
Stone.
“You should be resting,” Dave said, voice low.
Stone shut the door and leaned against the frame, arms folded, watching him like prey he wasn’t sure he wanted to spook or devour. “You don’t look like you’re resting.”
Dave set the book aside. His mouth tugged wryly. “And you don’t look like you’re leaving.”
Stone pushed off the frame—slow, deliberate. Each step closed the space until he was at the foot of the bed, gaze never breaking.
Dave’s pulse kicked hard. Stone could see it—hell, Dave wanted him to see it.
Stone’s voice was rough, hungry. “I’m done leaving.” He moved closer, climbing onto the edge of the mattress, one knee braced, storm-colored eyes fixed on him like a dare.
Dave didn’t move. Couldn’t. His breath caught, fingers flexing against the sheets. For the first time in years, he didn’t force distance between them.
Stone reached out—slow enough to offer an out, sure enough to make clear he wasn’t stopping. Callused fingers brushed his jaw, the scrape of rough skin against smooth.
Dave’s pulse thundered. His hand lifted, settled over Stone’s wrist. Not to stop him. To keep him.
The tension snapped taut, humming with everything unspoken.
Then Stone leaned in, breath warm against his mouth.
Dave didn’t wait. He hauled Stone down and crashed their mouths together—hungry, hard, biting. His groan was swallowed in the heat between them.
There was no going slow. Dave rose to his knees, the bed dipping beneath their weight. Stone’s hands found him, rough palms sliding down his back, gripping his ass and lifting like he’d been waiting years for this.
Dave wrapped his pajama-clad legs around Stone’s hips. Stone straightened, lifting him as if he weighed nothing, folding them deeper onto the bed.
Christ. This was happening.
After years of wanting, of holding back—Dave was in his arms, on a bed, kissing him like he never planned to stop.
Stone’s hunger roared, but instinct made him hesitate. Supplies. They’d need lube.
“The nightstand,” Dave rasped against his jaw, like he’d read his mind.
Stone pulled away, yanked the drawer open, and grabbed the bottle. It landed beside them with a soft thud.
His shirt was gone in seconds, jeans shoved down. Dave matched him move for move, shrugging silk off his shoulders, skin flashing pale and hard under the low light.
Stone froze for half a beat when he saw him stripped down—Dave in tiny black briefs that clung to muscle and power, hair on his chest threaded with gray. Strong as hell, always demanding, and everything he had ever wanted.
“Hey,” Dave murmured, dragging him back with a hand on his arm—steel-gray eyes burned steady, no hesitation, just want.
He moved fast, crawling over Dave, pinning him down into the mattress. Hovering, he drank him in. Together. Finally. He wanted this past the bedroom—he wanted forever—but right now he’d take this. He tore the black briefs off with one hand.
Dave’s hand slipped down his stomach, nails catching lightly in the hair along his trail, then gripped his cock.
Stone groaned, dropping his mouth to Dave’s throat, careful not to mark but desperate to taste. Dave arched up, groaning back, legs sliding open to cradle him.
Their cocks pressed together—heat, friction, perfect.
Stone nearly lost it. He forced himself to breathe, to slow, to give Dave more than a rush of hunger.
But Dave had other plans.
With a wicked smile, Dave pushed him back and slid down his body, settling between his thighs. Before Stone could catch his breath, Dave’s mouth closed over his cock.
“Fuuuck,” Stone gasped, hands fisting in Dave’s dark hair.
Dave devoured him. Not careful, not teasing—just hungry, confident, practiced. Stone’s body arched, every nerve alight. He bit out curses, half-groans, half-prayers, and still Dave kept going.
The pressure built too fast, and panic flared—he wasn’t ready to come, not yet, not like this. He dragged Dave off, lips red and slick.
Dave wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then kissed him hard, sharing the taste, stealing his breath.
Stone rolled them, pinning Dave beneath him again. His hand found the lube, slicked his fingers, and pressed lower, stretching him slowly, carefully, until Dave growled and shoved at his arm.
“Enough. Now.”
Stone lined himself up, chest heaving. “Look at me.”
Dave did. And when their eyes locked, Stone pushed in—slow, deep, relentless until he was buried to the hilt.
Dave’s groan ripped through the air, his nails clawing red down Stone’s back. “Fuck.”
Stone froze, every muscle shaking with the need to move. Dave didn’t hesitate—he lifted his hips and snarled, “Move.”
Stone did. Long, driving thrusts that made Dave arch and curse, made the bed slam against the wall. Sweat slicked their skin, their mouths colliding in rough kisses, breath and groans tangling.
When Dave’s legs locked tighter around his hips, dragging him deeper, Stone knew Dave wasn’t just the man he loved. He was the reason he’d survived this long.
Stone drove harder, faster, the rhythm brutal, unstoppable. Dave met him stroke for stroke, body unyielding, his voice breaking into guttural sounds that pushed Stone closer.
“Stone—” Dave rasped, the single word splintering him apart. His cock pulsed, spilling hot between them as he shuddered hard.
The sight, the sound, the man undone beneath him—it dragged Stone over the edge. He buried himself deep and let go, panting into Dave’s mouth as release tore through him, fierce and consuming.
He stayed there, locked inside, trembling with the force of it, the world stripped down to this—Dave’s heat, Dave’s heartbeat, Dave’s breath under his own.
Strong as hell. Always demanding.
And everything he had ever wanted.