Chapter 15 #2
I stand, pulling her up with me. We're close now. Her exhaustion shows in the shadows under her eyes. But underneath is relief and something else. Want. Need. The same hunger I'm feeling.
She kisses me. Soft at first. Testing. Then deeper as I respond. My hands find her waist, sliding under her shirt to touch bare skin. She's warm. Alive. The proof of it makes something in my chest crack open.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging slightly. The small pain grounds me. Reminds me this is real.
"Alex." My name is rough in her throat. "I need you."
"You have me." I kiss along her jaw, down her neck. "Right here. Not going anywhere."
We move together. I peel her shirt off carefully, mindful of her injuries. She hisses slightly when the fabric pulls across the scrape, but then her hands are at my belt and the pain is forgotten.
My own shirt hits the floor. Her fingers trace the bruises on my ribs with careful precision. Like she's memorizing each one. Cataloging damage and survival in equal measure.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
"Not enough to stop." I capture her mouth again. Deeper this time. Tasting her. Learning her. "Nothing could make me stop."
She responds by unfastening my belt. The metal clinks loud in the quiet room. Then her hands are inside my waistband and coherent thought becomes difficult.
I walk her backward until her legs hit the bed. She sits, looks up at me with those eyes that see too much. Then her hands hook in my waistband and pull me closer.
"Delaney." Her name comes out strained.
"Yeah?" Her fingers trace the line of my hipbone. Teasing. Testing.
"You're going to kill me."
"Not the plan." She smiles. Actually smiles. In the middle of everything we've been through today, she finds humor. "The plan is to make you feel very, very alive."
Her hands work my zipper down. Slowly. Deliberately. Every brush of her fingers sends heat straight through me. When she finally pushes my pants down my hips, I have to brace myself against the bed frame.
"Your turn," I manage.
She leans back, watching me with eyes that have gone dark with passion.
Waiting. I hook my fingers in the waistband of her pants.
Slide them down inch by inch, revealing skin I've been wanting to touch since we left that mining structure.
Her thighs are strong, muscles defined from the running and fighting.
A bruise blooms purple on her left hip where she went down during extraction.
I kiss it. Can't help myself. She gasps.
"Alex—"
"Shh." I work the pants down the rest of the way, toss them aside. She's still wearing a bra, plain black, practical. Nothing about it should be sexy but the way it shapes her makes my mouth go dry.
I trace the edge of the fabric with one finger. Her breath hitches. "This too," I say.
She reaches back, unhooks it, lets it fall. And then she's bare from the waist up and I forget how to breathe.
She's not soft. There's definition in her arms, her shoulders, her abdomen. Evidence of the training she's been putting in. But there are curves too. The swell of her breasts, fuller than I remember. Nipples already tight in the cool air. The dip of her waist before it flares to her hips.
I reach out. Cup one breast in my palm, feel the weight of it. Her skin is warm. Soft despite the strength underneath. She arches into my touch, a small sound escaping her throat.
"You're killing me," I tell her.
"Good." Her hands go to my boxers. "Then we're even."
She pushes them down. I'm already hard, have been since she first touched me. When her hand wraps around me, skin on skin, my vision blurs.
"Delaney." Her name is prayer and warning.
"Yeah?" She strokes once. Twice. Learning what makes me groan.
"If you keep doing that, this will be over before it starts."
"Can't have that." But she doesn't let go. Just slows her pace. Torturous. Perfect.
I reach between us, hook my fingers in the last barrier between us. Her underwear is simple cotton, nothing fancy. I slide it down her legs, watching her face as I expose her completely.
When we're finally bare, I let myself look.
Really look. Her waist curves inward, then flows to the flare of her hips.
Smooth skin interrupted by purple-yellow bruises from the extraction.
Her thighs are strong, toned from the training, marked with scrapes from today's fight.
Between them the evidence of her arousal glistens. My mouth goes dry.
"Alex." My name is rough in her throat. Need and permission wrapped together.
My hand trembles as I reach out. Start at her collarbone, trace down. Her skin is fever-hot under my fingertips. I move between her breasts, feeling her heart pound. Over her stomach, which quivers at my touch. Lower. She watches me the whole time, breath coming faster.
When my fingers brush the inside of her thigh, she spreads her legs wider. Invitation. Demand. Choice. Despite everything she's been through today, despite the armor she's built to survive, she's choosing to be open with me.
I slide my hand higher. Tease the crease where thigh meets body. She makes a small sound of frustration.
"Please." Just that one word. Wrecked.
I give her what she's asking for. Trail my fingers through her folds, learning her. She's slick with want, hot against my hand. When I circle the sensitive bundle of nerves at her apex, her hips jerk off the bed.
"God, yes." Her head falls back. "Right there."
I stroke again. She's swollen and ready, her body telling me everything I need to know. When I slide one finger inside her, she clenches around me. Tight heat that makes me groan.
"More," she demands.
I add a second finger. Work them deeper. She rocks against my hand, chasing sensation. Her inner muscles grip me, pull me deeper. I can feel her pulse around my fingers. Steady rhythm that matches her racing heartbeat.
"Alex." My name breaks on a gasp when I curl my fingers, find that spot inside that makes her whole body tense. "Oh god, don't stop."
"You’re incredible." The word is inadequate.
Color rises in her cheeks. "Alex—"
"I mean it." I lean down, kiss her shoulder. The unmarked one. "You held position against trained killers today. Refused to break. Refused to leave me." Kiss her collarbone. "You're the strongest person I know."
Her breath hitches. "Keep talking like that and this will be over before it starts."
"Can't have that."
I guide her back onto the bed. The mattress dips under our combined weight. She's soft beneath me. Yielding but not passive. Her hands roam my back, tracing scars and muscle with equal attention.
I kiss down her body. Taking my time now. The adrenaline from combat is fading, replaced by something slower and more intentional. This isn't about forgetting what happened. It's about remembering we survived.
I withdraw my fingers. She makes a sound of protest until I settle between her thighs.
My mouth finds her breast. I take her nipple between my lips, tease it with my tongue. She arches up, pushing more of herself into my mouth. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tightening when I use my teeth. Gentle pressure that makes her gasp.
"Yes." The word is breathy. Desperate. "Like that."
I lavish attention on one breast, then the other.
Learn what makes her breath hitch. What makes her hips roll restlessly against the sheets.
When I suck hard, she moans. When I flick my tongue across the peak, her nails dig into my scalp.
When I trace circles around but don't quite touch, she pulls my hair in frustration.
"Alex, please."
I move lower. Kiss down her sternum, her ribs, her stomach. She's trembling now, anticipation and need making her whole body taut. When I reach the juncture of her thighs, she spreads wider. Offering herself.
"Tell me what you want," I say against her skin.
"Your mouth." No hesitation. "I want your mouth on me."
I give her what she's asking for. Taste her fully for the first time. Salt and musk and pure Delaney. She cries out, her hips bucking off the bed. I have to hold her down, one hand splayed across her lower abdomen, to keep her still.
I explore her with my tongue. Long strokes that make her whimper.
Focused attention on that bundle of nerves that has her chanting my name.
When I slide two fingers back inside her while my mouth works, she comes apart.
Her thighs clamp around my head, her inner muscles pulse around my fingers, and she makes sounds I've never heard from her before.
Raw. Unguarded. Mine.
I work her through it until she's pushing at my head, oversensitive. Then I kiss my way back up her body.
"Alex." My name is prayer and demand. "Please."
"Tell me what you need."
"You. Inside me. Now."
Hard to argue with that.
I settle between her thighs. The heat of her against me makes my vision blur. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Impatient.
"Slow," I remind her. "Want to feel every second of this."
"Later we can go slow." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "Right now I need to feel you. Need to know this is real."
I understand. The desperation underneath the desire. We came too close to losing this. Too close to never having another moment together.
I enter her slowly despite her urgency. Watching her face. The way her eyes flutter closed. The way her mouth falls open on a silent gasp. She's tight and perfect and taking me like she was made for this.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes open. Blue and intense and locked on mine.
"Stay with me," I murmur.
"Always."
I start to move. Slow at first despite what she asked for. Learning her rhythm. The angle that makes her breath catch. The pace that has her fingers clawing at my back.
"Harder." She lifts her hips to meet mine. "Alex, please."
I give her what she needs. Driving deeper. Faster. The bed frame creaks with the force of it but neither of us cares. There's only this. Only us. Only the slide of skin on skin and the sound of our breathing filling the small room.