Chapter 7 #2
"I suppose we should get back." She reaches for her jeans, which lie in a heap on the stone. "Before the wildlife gets traumatized."
She grabs the denim.
My hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist.
She freezes. Her pulse flutters against my thumb—frantic and alive. "Kade?"
"Not yet."
Low. Rough with a hunger I haven't bothered to hide.
Wren's pupils blow wide, swallowing the blue. The frantic, life-affirming desperation of minutes ago settles into something heavier.
Slower.
Thicker.
"We need to get back," she breathes—but she doesn't pull her wrist away. That same focused curiosity she turns on a puzzle she can't quite solve.
"We have time." I stroke the sensitive skin of her inner wrist, tracking the heat rising under my fingers. "And I'm nowhere near done with you."
"We just..."
"Took the edge off." I tug her arm gently, pulling her back between my spread legs. "That was for the adrenaline. Now I want something for us."
Her fingers slacken. The jeans hit the rock with a soft thud.
"What do you want?"
"To see you." I guide her back until she's standing in front of me, my face level with her stomach. "Properly. In the light. No hiding."
I place my hands on her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, and look up. Pale skin glowing against the rugged backdrop of granite and pine. She starts to cross her arms over her chest—reflex, modesty in the harsh noon sun.
I catch her hands, pulling them down to her sides.
"Don't." Plea as much as command. "Let me look at you."
My hands run up her sides, spanning her ribs, and her breath hitches. I cup the weight of her breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples that harden instantly. She shivers, head falling back, eyes closing against the sun's glare.
"You have no idea." I lean forward and press an open-mouthed kiss to her stomach. "How long I've wanted this. Since the moment you walked onto that dance floor."
Her fingers tangle in my hair, gripping tight. "That was two nights ago."
"Feels like a lifetime."
I pull back, grab my discarded t-shirt, and spread it on the flat surface of the boulder behind me. The granite is warm, soaking up the sun, but I want her comfortable.
"Lie back. Let me taste you."
A fraction of hesitation—a flush rising from her chest to her throat—then desire wins. She lowers herself onto the makeshift bed, lying back, hair fanning out around her. Her legs drape over the edge of the rock, feet finding purchase on the stone.
I move over her, settling between her thighs. The view destroys me. Completely open, bared to the sky, trusting me with the most vulnerable parts of herself.
"Kade," she whispers, hips shifting restlessly.
"I've got you."
I run my hands down her thighs, parting them further. I don't enter her. Not yet. I lower my head instead.
Her cry is sharp, shocking in the mountain stillness.
I taste her—salt and musk and the sweetness of her earlier release.
Slowly. Deliberately. This isn't a race.
It's an exploration. I use my tongue to trace the sensitive terrain, learning exactly what makes her breath catch, what makes her heels dig into the rock.
She writhes against me, hands clutching at empty air, nothing to hold onto but the sensation itself.
"Kade... Kade, please..."
I don't stop. Flat of my tongue, the pressure of my mouth, teasing the swollen bundle of nerves until she's arching off the stone, begging, lost in it.
"That's it." The vibration against her skin. "Feel that."
I bring her right to the edge, her muscles coiling tight, trembling on the precipice.
"Don't stop." Her voice is ragged. "Don't you dare."
I lift my head.
Her face is wrecked ecstasy—eyes unfocused, lips parted. Alive. Beautiful. Both at once.
"I need to be inside you." The words scrape out. "Right now."
"Yes." She reaches for me, hands frantic. "Yes."
I rise up, positioning myself. Hard again, painfully so, blood roaring in my ears. I lift her legs, hooking them over my shoulders, changing the angle. It folds her open, deepens the access—but it also keeps her face where I can see it.
I sink into her.
We both hiss at the friction. Tighter this time. Slower. Every inch a deliberate thing. I fill her completely, hitting depths I couldn't reach before, and the sensation is so intense I have to brace my hands on the rock beside her head to keep from losing it immediately.
"God," she breathes, eyes fluttering open. Blue and startled, locking onto mine.
"Look at me." I lean down until our mouths are inches apart, sharing the same air. "Don't close your eyes, Wren. Stay with me."
Long, slow strokes. Pulling almost all the way out, then driving back to the hilt. Rhythmic and heavy. Every thrust feels like it's knitting something together—fusing the cracks the last few days have left in both of us.
She meets me, hips lifting, matching my pace. Her hands come up to cup my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones.
"You feel..." A gasp steals the rest as I hit deep.
"So do you." I grind against her, watching her pupils blow wide. "Incredible."
The pace builds—friction and heat and the sheer improbability of this moment. Two strangers thrown together by violence, finding solace in the most basic human equation.
"Kade." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "I'm close. Again."
"Go." I drive harder, faster. "Let go."
She shatters. Her body clamps down on me, the wave of it pulling me under with her. I bury my face in the curve of her neck as my release hits—white-hot and absolute.
I hold her tight, anchoring us both while the world spins away.
We drift back slowly.
The wind cools the sweat on our skin. My heartrate decelerates from a sprint to a jog. I collapse onto my elbows, keeping my weight off her, but I don't pull away. Not yet.
Wren lets out a long, shaky breath, her hands sliding down my back to rest at my waist.
"Okay," she whispers, a smile in her voice. "You made your point."
I lift my head, brush a damp strand of hair off her forehead. "What point was that?"
"That we weren't finished."
I kiss her—soft, lingering, tasting the sun on her lips. "We're just getting started."
She laughs—bright and clean, chasing the shadows out of the treeline. "If this is how you handle downtime, I'm terrified to see what happens when we're actually safe."
"When we're safe," I promise, rolling off her and pulling her into my side, "I'm going to find a bed with a mattress that isn't granite. And we're going to stay there for a week."
"Deal. But make sure the bed has good tie downs.”
I let out a low, rough chuckle, my hand sliding down the curve of her hip as the reality of her "requirements" settles in. The sun is high now, cutting through the trees, but the heat between us hasn't cooled a bit.
"Tie-downs," I repeat, the word tasting like a promise. "You’ve really thought this through, haven't you?"
"I’ve had a lot of time to fantasize while we were running for our lives," she says, propping herself up on one elbow.
She looks impish, a wicked glint in her eyes as she tracks the way my chest is still heaving.
"If we’re doing a week in a real bed, Kade, I want it done right.
I want heavy-duty anchors bolted into the frame—something that won't give when I'm pulling against them. "
"Noted," I mutter, my thumb tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Anything else on the manifest, little bird?"
"Blindfolds," she adds, her voice dropping into that shredded velvet.
"I want to feel you coming before I see you.
And toys. Lots of them. Leather, silicone—anything that can make me fall apart in ways I haven't even discovered yet.
I want a drawer full of options so you can spend the whole week figuring out exactly what makes me scream the loudest."
I tighten my grip on her, my blood catching fire at the mental image of her pinned and blind in a room where the world can’t find us. I look down at her, at the way the sunlight hits the flush on her chest, and I feel that familiar, heavy throb return.
"You're trying to kill me before we even get to the safe house," I growl, rolling her back onto the grass until my shadow looms over her. "But consider the order placed. I'll make sure the hardware is rated for someone as... enthusiastic as you."
I huff out a breath, shaking my head as I feel myself straining against my jeans again. "I'm hard. Again. I don't know what the hell you do to me, Wren, but I don't think I've had this much sex in my entire life. You're a goddamn menace."
She doesn't look even remotely sorry. If anything, she looks triumphant, her hand wandering down to curl around the length of me through the denim, a slow, proprietary squeeze that makes my vision swim.
"Good," she whispers, her hair brushing against my stomach as she shifts with a sudden, predatory grace. She moves until she’s positioned exactly where she wants to be, looking up at me through her lashes with that wicked, impish glint.
"Let's see how you handle a bit of godly worship," she murmurs, her fingers unbuttoning my fly with practiced ease. She pauses, her eyes locking onto mine, dark and utterly serious for a heartbeat. "But there’s a catch this time, Kade. You don’t get to pull out and flip me. You don’t get to finish inside me or against the wall. "
She leans in, her breath hot against the sensitive skin she’s just bared. "I want it all. Right here. I want you to come in my mouth. Every fucking drop."
The demand hits me like a physical blow to the chest. I sink my fingers into her hair, my head falling back against the grass as she leans down and takes me.
The shock of it—the heat, the wetness, the sheer, unashamed focus of her—knocks the air right out of my lungs.
I sink my fingers into her hair, my head falling back against the grass as she begins to work.
She’s thorough, relentless, using her tongue and the soft pressure of her lips to remind me exactly who is in charge of this particular ritual.
I’m aching and heavy, my pulse a frantic roar in my ears as I watch her worship me under the open sky.
Later, she rests her head on my chest, her hand splayed over my heart. We lie there in the quiet—just existing, fragile and finite, borrowing minutes from a situation that doesn't deal in mercy.
Eventually, the sun dips behind a cloud. The air turns sharp and cold. Reality creeps back in at the edges.
"We should go." I say it reluctantly. "We have work to do."
"Firearms training." She groans, sitting up and reaching for her clothes. "Back to reality."
"Hey."
I catch her hand before she can pull away. She looks back at me—open, vulnerable.
"You did well today," I tell her. "Up here. And down there. You're adapting."
"I'm trying."
"That's all I need." I squeeze her fingers. "Now let's go learn how to make sure no one interrupts us again."
She smiles, squeezing back. Then she stands, drops my hand, and starts down the trail without waiting.
"Lead the way."