5. Chapter 5
Grim
McKenna sleeps with one hand wrapped around my wrist, as if even unconscious she intends to make sure I keep my promise to stay.
Dawn moves through the cabin in pale strips. Her hair covers my chest, one soft thigh lies across mine, and every breath warms the skin above my heart.
I have fallen asleep beside women before. I have never allowed one to remain in my bed until morning. Morning invites familiarity, and familiarity becomes the kind of need I swore I would never give another person the power to use.
At ten years old, I watched my father leave my mother for a woman young enough to be mistaken for his daughter.
He came from old money, but by the time he met my mother, the fortune was nearly gone.
He married her to pull his family back from bankruptcy, then left once her wealth had restored the life he believed his name entitled him to.
At eleven, I stood beside her grave and learned that love can finish killing someone long after the person who wounded her walks away.
I built the rest of my life around never making the same mistake.
McKenna sighs and presses closer.
Five minutes awake beside her, and my vows already feel like the promises of a man who did not know what he would be asked to resist.
Her lashes lift.
“You’re staring at me.”
“It’s in my job description. I conduct security assessments.”
“Of my face?”
“High-risk area.”
A sleepy smile curves her mouth. “Did I pass?”
“Still assessing.”
I kiss her before she can answer. Morning softness becomes heat as soon as her fingers slide into my hair. She turns beneath me, and I brace my weight on my uninjured arm.
“Your shoulder,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“Has survived worse.”
“Your medical defense remains unconvincing.”
“Distract me from the pain.”
Her cheeks turn pink, but she holds my gaze. “How?”
The trust in that question is enough to make every possessive instinct inside me bare its teeth.
I stroke my thumb over her lower lip. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
The word lands harder than the bullet.
“Be specific, Angel.”
Nerves flicker across her face. She takes a breath, fighting every lesson that taught her wanting was shameful.
“I want what comes next,” she says. “I want my first time to be with you.”
My body reacts with violent certainty. I force myself to remain still.
“Look at me.”
Her hazel eyes meet mine.
“I do not want your virginity,” I tell her. “I want your trust. I want the way you laugh when you’re trying not to. I want every smart answer and every stubborn inch of you. Being your first only matters because I intend to make sure no memory of me ever feels like something taken.”
Her eyes shine. “Nobody has ever wanted me like this.”
“I want what you choose to give me. Keep everything else until giving it feels like freedom.”
I kiss the corner of her mouth.
“You can change your mind before, during, or after you say yes. Wanting me does not sign away that right.”
“I understand.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m sure.” Her fingers tighten in my hair. “I want you.”
Control becomes a thin, fraying thing.
I roll onto my back and bring her over me so my wounded shoulder stays protected. The blanket falls away, leaving her in the pale-blue camisole with her bare pussy pressed against the ridge of my cock beneath my sweats.
Her eyes widen when she feels how hard I am.
“That is what you do to me,” I say. “I have been trying to hide it since you tended my wound at the station.”
She rocks experimentally. The wet heat of her slides along my shaft through the fabric, and control tears loose inside me.
“Again.”
She obeys, watching my face as her hips move. My hands tighten around her waist. I could take over, but the wonder in her expression matters more than relief.
“You like that,” she whispers.
“I like you learning that you can make me lose my mind.”
She reaches for the hem of her top. I cover her hands with mine long enough to search her eyes, then help her pull the camisole over her head.
Her breasts spill free, full and soft, her nipples already tight. She starts to cover herself, but I close my hands around hers.
“Let me see the woman who has haunted every thought I possess since I first laid eyes on her.”
The uncertainty leaves her. I release her hands and fill my palms with her breasts, rubbing my thumbs over the sensitive peaks until she arches into me.
I draw one nipple into my mouth and suck.
Her hips grind harder against my cock.
“Grim.”
I could live inside the sound of my name spoken like that.
She slides her fingers beneath the waistband of my sweats. Her touch shakes, but she does not retreat when she finds my cock.
I lift my hips and push the fabric down. My shaft springs against my stomach, thick, hard, and wet at the tip.
McKenna stares.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“That the human body should come with more practical size limits.”
Her humor cannot hide the nerves. I wrap my hand around my cock and stroke once, showing her the pressure I like.
Her hand replaces mine.
The first glide of her palm nearly ends me. She explores with careful strokes, spreading the bead of precum over the broad head with her thumb. My hips lift into her fist before I can stop them.
“Like that?”
“Exactly like that.”
Confidence warms her face. She tightens her grip and moves again.
“I let her enjoy the discovery for several strokes before closing my hand around hers.”
“If you keep going, this ends before I get inside you.”
“That would damage your reputation.”
“My reputation survived being shot by an angel. It can survive anything.”
Using my uninjured arm, I turn her beneath me and settle between her thighs. Last night taught me what makes her tremble. This morning, I intend to make her body ready enough to welcome me.
My mouth closes around one nipple while my hand slides between her legs. She is slick from riding me, her folds swollen and open. I circle her clit with my thumb and press one finger inside her.
She clenches around me.
“Breathe.”
Her body relaxes a fraction. I work my finger deeper, then add a second only when her hips begin chasing the first. The stretch makes her gasp, but she grips my uninjured shoulder and asks for more.
I curl both fingers inside her and rub the sensitive place that made her come against my mouth last night. Her thighs shake.
“Grim, I need you.”
“You have me.”
“Inside me.”
The words destroy what remains of my restraint.
“We go at your pace,” I say. “If it hurts beyond what you want, I stop.”
She nods.
I rub the head of my cock through her slick folds, coating myself and letting her feel the pressure without penetration. Each pass brushes her clit. Her legs open wider.
“Please.”
I place myself at her entrance and push forward by degrees. Her tight pussy yields around the broad head, hot enough to blur my vision.
She tenses when I enter deeper.
I stop.
“Eyes on me, Angel.”
Her lashes lift.
“Tell me what you need.”
“A minute.”
“You have every minute I own.”
I kiss her while the initial burn eases. My hand returns to her clit, circling gently until the tension leaves her thighs and wetness gathers around my cock.
She shifts beneath me, taking another inch.
“Again,” she whispers.
I press deeper until my hips meet hers and I am buried fully inside her. Her pussy grips me with every breath. Sweat breaks across my back from the effort of remaining still.
“How does it feel?”
“Full.” Her nails drag over my skin. “Good. Move.”
I withdraw halfway and thrust back into her with care.
Pleasure rips up my spine.
Her mouth opens on a broken cry.
I repeat the stroke, learning the depth that makes her body soften and the angle that makes her nails bite harder. Each thrust grows firmer as she meets me, her hips rising to take everything I give.
“That’s it,” I tell her. “Take my cock the way you want it.”
Her pussy clenches around me.
“You like hearing what you do to me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then hear this. Nothing has ever felt like being inside you. Nothing ever will.”
I slide my hand between us and rub her clit in time with my thrusts. Her cries grow louder, each one stripping another layer from the control I have lived behind for years.
“Let me hear what belongs to me in this room.”
She shudders. “I thought nothing belonged to you unless I gave it.”
Pride moves through me, dark and hot. Even stretched around my cock, my Angel holds me to my word.
“Then give me the sounds. Keep everything else until you’re ready.”
She gives me one when I drive deep again.
Her orgasm begins around my cock, her pussy pulsing so tightly I nearly lose myself with the first contraction. I keep my fingers on her clit and thrust through every wave, watching her face as pleasure takes her apart.
“Grim.”
My name leaves her as a plea and a claim.
I bury myself to the hilt and come with a groan torn from somewhere beneath language. Release pounds through me while her body continues clenching around my cock. I hold her against me until the last pulse fades and neither of us has breath left to speak.
For a long time, neither of us moves.
Then she whispers, “You said nothing ever will.”
The promise I let slip returns to stand between us.
I raise my head. “I did.”
“Was that something men say during sex?”
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean.”
Hope makes her vulnerable in a way fear never has.
I brush damp hair from her cheek. “I don’t know what happens after we stop the men hunting you. I know I will still want to wake beside you. I know the thought of taking you back to Black Pines makes me violent. And I know nothing about you feels temporary to me.”
“That sounds dangerously close to a relationship for a man who looks terrified of letting anyone get close.”
“I’m not terrified.”
“Your eye twitched.”
“Combat injury.”
Her laugh warms the space between us.
I withdraw carefully and help her into the bathroom. We shower with my bandaged shoulder outside the spray and under her strict supervision.
Afterward, I wrap her in a towel, bring her water, and change the bedding while she watches from the doorway.
“You do aftercare.”
“I take care of what is mine.”
Her brow rises.
“What chooses to be mine,” I correct.
“Better.”
“Keep training me, Angel.”
“It may take years.”
“I’m available.”
Her smile fades into something tender.
My phone vibrates on the dresser.
Striker’s name fills the screen.
I answer and watch McKenna pull on my shirt. The hem reaches her thighs. The sight makes the cabin feel less like a place I hide and more like a home I have been waiting to recognize.
“Talk,” I say.
“Motion sensor on the lower service road tripped twice,” Striker replies. “Rook found a drone in the trees. Commercial model. The camera was still transmitting when he brought it down.”
Every warm thing inside me turns cold.
“The men from the station?”
“Probably. Lock traced the drone’s remote ID to a Cyrus Rivers shell company. They’ve narrowed you to the mountain, Prez.”
I look at McKenna.
She reads the change in my face and reaches for clean underwear and a pair of jeans without asking whether something is wrong.
“How long until the extraction team gets here?”
“Seven minutes. Two vehicles.”
“Sweep the north approach before you come in.”
I end the call, get dressed, and pull on my cut.
McKenna stands in the middle of the bedroom with the calm focus of a nurse entering an emergency.
“Tell me what to do.”
I check the window, retrieve the gun from the nightstand, and place myself between her and the door.
“Shoes, coat, phone. We leave everything else.”
“Are they here?”
“Close enough.”
She swallows but holds my gaze. “You said I have you.”
“You do.”
“Then do not shut me out because you’re scared.”
She sees too much.
I cup the back of her neck and press my forehead to hers.
“I am scared,” I admit. “There is finally something in this cabin I cannot survive losing.”
Her fingers close around my wrist.
“Then make sure we both get out.”
Engines approach through the rain.
I kiss her once, hard enough to turn fear into a promise.
“Stay behind me, Angel. Anyone who wants you comes through hell first.”