Chapter Twenty-Two
Dave sat heavily on the edge of the bed, the quiet of the estate pressing in around them. His chest still ached faintly from the scare in the SUV, but it wasn’t the kind of pain that kept him awake.
It was the silence.
The weight of what he’d done—cutting Stone out, pushing him to the sidelines—sat like a stone in his gut.
For years, he’d relied on Stone’s strength at his back, his steadiness when everything else was chaos. And tonight, he’d taken that away. Ordered him to stand down.
He regretted it more than he could put into words.
Stone had disobeyed anyway. Of course, he had. Stone wasn’t a man to be controlled. He had never been.
And truth was, Dave didn’t want to control him. Not Stone.
What he wanted was something else entirely.
Stone was only a step away, leaning against the dresser like he belonged there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes never leaving him. Watching. Waiting.
Dave pushed up from the bed, the movement sharper than he intended.
He crossed the space in two strides, heat and regret and need burning under his skin.
His hand shot out, fisting the collar of Stone’s T-shirt, yanking him off the dresser and into his space.
Their bodies collided, chest to chest, breath tangling.
Stone’s mouth curved, rough amusement laced with something darker.
“Careful, Commander. You look like you want to start a fight you won’t finish.”
Dave’s breath scraped in his throat. “Not a fight.” His voice was low, hoarse. “I’m done fighting you.”
Stone’s eyes burned, the kind of fire that had carried him through war zones, but his hand came up slow, steady, cupping the side of Dave’s neck. Stone’s thumb brushed his pulse, sending it racing.
“Then what do you want?” Stone asked, voice pitched low, almost a growl.
Dave swallowed, the answer thick in his chest. He tugged him closer still, until their foreheads touched. “You. Every way I can have you. Nothing less.”
Stone’s breath brushed his lips, warm and steady, where Dave’s own became ragged. The closeness stole his air, stole his control, and God help him, he didn’t want it back.
Dave’s gut tightened, nerves and want striking like fire. His pulse thundered where Stone’s thumb pressed, every beat a reminder he was alive, that Stone was here, that he’d nearly lost the chance to feel this.
When Stone’s mouth finally claimed his, it wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, grounding, everything Dave had denied himself. Heat surged through him, his body answering before his mind could catch up. He pulled hard at Stone’s shirt, needing him closer, needing him everywhere.
Stone pushed him back, guiding him toward the bed. Dave let him, heart pounding so hard he felt it in his throat, in his fingertips. The mattress caught behind his knees, and he sank, Stone following, pressing him down, the weight a comfort he hadn’t known he craved this badly.
Dave’s hands roamed without thought—shoulders, back, the solid muscle he knew better than his own. The world narrowed to Stone’s mouth on his, Stone’s body heavy over him, the heat of skin against skin as clothes were dragged loose and forgotten.
Every brush, every press sent his pulse racing faster, until all that was left was sensation. The drag of Stone’s powerful body against his. The press of a muscular thigh between his legs. The sound that tore out of him when Stone’s hand slid low and sure around his cock.
“Stone—” Dave’s voice cracked, raw.
Stone’s mouth was at his ear, his words a growl that melted straight into Dave’s heart. “I’ve got you. Always.”
The sky had just started to glow at the edges, that quiet hour before daylight when the estate was still and the world felt almost forgiving.
Dave stood on the balcony outside his room, the ocean wind sharp with salt, a cooling cup of coffee in his hand. He hadn’t bothered with a tie or jacket—just black slacks and an unbuttoned white dress shirt that billowed faintly in the breeze.
Beside him, Stone leaned against the rail, gazing into the distance, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of frayed jeans slung low on his hips. Stone had stolen one of his cufflinks and was now toying with it between his fingers of one hand. Dave smiled and took a sip.
Neither of them had said much since the night broke apart in heat and silence. Words weren’t needed then. Now, though, with the horizon softening into gray, the weight of everything pressed back in.
Dave tipped his cup, watching the creamy brew swirling inside. “We need to talk about Vegas.” His voice was low, rough from only a few hours of sleep.
“First, we need to have a heart-to-heart with Titus. He was supposed to set up the meet. But it was the opposite.” Stone squeezed one fist around the railing.
“He’s on my list,” Dave promised. “But regardless of Titus’s response, Franklin is still out there. We’ll have to move fast before he shifts again.”
“Titus is unreliable.”
“It does appear that way.” Dave gave people the benefit of the doubt…until they proved him wrong.
Stone shifted closer, eyes tracing the line of Dave’s throat. “You sure you’re up for this mission? You scared the hell out of me in that car.”
Dave’s smile flickered, faint but real. “I’m fine.”
“You say that like it’s supposed to convince me.”
He reached out, linking their fingers—a quiet act of defiance and care.
Stone’s gaze slid to him, unreadable in the dim light. “I’m involved this time around.”
Dave huffed—part wry smile, part snort, a sound that surprised even him. He let out a soft chuckle and shifted, their joined hands steady between them. Stone’s grip tightened immediately, warm and certain.
“I was a fool to sideline you,” Dave said, squeezing once. “It won’t happen again.”
Stone’s mouth curved, not the sharp smirk he gave the world, but something softer, meant only for him. “Good. Because you’d be hell to follow, and I’m too damn stubborn to let you run alone.”
Dave shook his head, a breath of laughter breaking past. “Stubborn doesn’t cover it.”
“Persistent, then.” Stone’s tone held that low rasp, teasing. He nudged his shoulder against Dave’s. “Somebody has to keep you alive long enough to enjoy retirement.”
The battlefield kept changing, but the man beside him never did—solid as the ground beneath his feet.