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CHAPTEREIGHT
He draggedher against him and kissed her harder than he should have, anchoring her like he could stop the spinning beneath his feet. So many mistakes. Too much overload. If he scared her off again…he’d lose too much.
He had to walk away before he terrified her with how deep it ran, desire, need, that fucking loneliness he hadn’t felt this sharply ever. Right now, with her in his arms, kissing his scar like it meant something sacred, he felt it all.
But he couldn’t take the chance. She was the key, and he needed whatever she’d unlock. Needed her here, not just for the truth buried in OrdoTech, but for what she sparked in him. If denying his own hunger was the price of keeping her close, he’d pay it.
He broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against hers, their hearts thundering together like fists on a locked door.
“Grace—”
“No, it’ll be okay,” she whispered.
He pushed off the bed, body aching from more than bruises, and headed for the connecting door.
“Nash,” she said, and he froze at the sound of her voice. She scrambled off the bed, came to him. Stared. Nash forgot how to breathe. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown, all that sharp brilliance stripped down to raw want. No shields. No filter. Just heat and hunger and something primal that slammed into his chest like a sucker punch.
That same gnawing ache that always lived in his bones when she was near.
She leaned in and brushed her mouth against his, and something detonated. Wet, warm, maddeningly soft. His grip on the doorjamb went white-knuckled. Every instinct screamed at him to grab her, slam her to the nearest wall, taste every inch she’d let him have.
But she didn’t stop.
She pressed harder, mouth sealing to his like she owned it, tongue slick and seeking, her fingers sliding down the back of his neck like she wanted to peel him open. Pleasure streaked down his spine, lit up his groin, heat firing under his skin.
He dropped his hands and stepped back, hurting physically.
He cupped her chin gently. “We should get some rest,” he said, voice rough. “We need to be sharp tomorrow.”
She blinked, dazed. Still breathing hard. Her eyes glazed with confusion. He wanted to reach for her again, ground them both in that heat, but he didn’t dare.
Not with the image of her packed suitcase still fresh. One wrong move, and she’d be gone. He couldn’t risk that. This wasn’t about the mission. Or even his fallen brothers. This was worse.
Grace was worse. She was more pressure. More ache. More danger than anything he’d ever faced. It took everything he had not to ruin it before it began.
If he spooked her again, if she shut that door, he wouldn’t survive it. Not really. He’d be trapped in that electric prison of want with no way out. No release. Just ache.
“Nash,” she whispered.
He couldn’t hold it together. So, for the first time in his life, he ran. Not toward fire. Not toward the threat. Away from the one thing that could break him wide open. His balls ached. His chest locked up. His gut churned.
All he could do was close the door behind him.
But Grace wasn’t done with him. She came to him in the dark, flames on her skin, silk in her mouth, and longing in her eyes.
In the dream, she didn’t wait. She climbed into his lap like she belonged there, her thighs spread wide over his, the wet core of her slicking him, working him over. Her rocking hips took his sanity, his restraint, her breath a gasp against his neck.
One hand curled around her throat, the other grabbed handfuls of fire, and he burned. He pulled her head back, his body flexing, targeting her mouth. He didn’t kiss her, hedevouredher.
She moaned his name, fingers tangled in his hair, her body arching, slick and hot and begging him to fill her. Take her. Lose himself inside her. He woke with a sound strangled in his throat, already on the edge. His cock jutted up hard and angry against his stomach, leaking at the tip, his body trembling, soaked in sweat. The sheet was kicked halfway off. His skin flushed. His pulse was erratic.
Grace.
She was fire incarnate, his temptation, his punishment, his salvation. His jaw clenched. Breath shallow. Groin aching with her liquid fire.
Grace.
It wasn’t just physical. It hadn’t been for a long time. That was the problem. He rolled to his back, arm thrown over his eyes, trying to erase the taste of her. The sound of her voice. The feel of her mouth on his. But he couldn’t. She’d kissed him back. That’s what haunted him.