Page 17 of Bunker Down, Baby

Wade

She unlocks the cuff.

Doesn’t make a big deal out of it, doesn’t flinch or fumble, just slides the key in and turns it with a little click that feels louder than it should.

It’s a quiet kind of trust, that gesture. I clock it right away.

She could’ve kept me tied up. Hell, I was expecting it. But she didn’t. She looked me in the eye, said I was needed, then uncuffed me like I was already hers.

And maybe I am.

The second my wrist is free, I stretch it, slow, easy, and reach for her. Not rough. Not rushed.

Just a tug at her waist, my hand curling into the soft fabric of her shirt, guiding her between my legs like we’ve done this before.

She comes without hesitation. Lets me pull her in.

And Lord, when she’s standing this close… Goddamn.

She smells like soap and heat and something wild underneath it. Her hair’s a little mussed from moving around all morning, and there’s flour on her shirt like she baked something with love and probably just a hint of menace. Her eyes are wide and curious, lips parted like she’s already imagining what I’m gonna do to her now that I’ve got both hands free.

Smart girl.

“You sure know how to make a man feel welcome,” I murmur, my voice low and lazy as I slide my palm up her back. “First you steal me, then you feed me, then you kiss me like you mean it.”

She laughs, just a little, and I swear it lands somewhere deep in my chest.

“You’re not mad?” she asks, teasing. Testing.

I smile, slow and sure. “Darlin’, I’ve never felt more taken care of in my life.”

She blushes.

And hell, if that doesn’t flip some switch in me.

I dip my head, letting my nose skim along her jaw, her cheek, slow enough that she shivers. Her skin’s soft and warm and smells like sugar and sin. My lips brush her neck, and her breath catches, barely, but I feel it.

I don’t need to pin her. I don’t need to growl or take. I just hold her. Hands at her waist, fingers firm. Mouth brushing hers, soft as a promise.

“You don’t have to work so hard to convince me, sweetheart,” I murmur, close enough our mouths are already touching again. “I was yours the moment you looked at me like I was worth keeping.”

She’s trembling now, just slightly, and I can tell, she’s waiting for the first move. For me to snap, to growl, to devour.

But that’s not how I take what’s mine.

I take my time, and I let her feel it.

“Can I kiss you again?” I ask, even though I’m already leaning in.

Her nod is barely a breath, and then I kiss her.

Slow and thorough.

She tastes like something warm. Like shepherd’s pie and trouble. Her lips part and I deepen it, one hand sliding up her back, the other down to cup her hip, holding her against me like I’ve been waiting years to touch her like this.

She moans into my mouth.

And just like that, I know she doesn’t want me gentle. She wants me steady. Sure.

I pull back just a fraction, just enough to feel her gasp, and let my thumb trace along the curve of her waist.

“You feel that?” I whisper.

She nods, breathless.

“Good. ‘Cause I got a hell of a lot more where that came from.”

She nods again, lips parted, her breath coming soft and fast against my mouth like she doesn’t even realize she’s panting.

I tilt my head, kiss her again, deeper now, slower. Like we’ve got nowhere to be and all the time in the world to ruin each other.

She melts into it, presses her body flush to mine. And damn, that’s all it takes.

My hands roam, slow and steady. I slide them under her shirt, palms skimming hot skin, the soft dip of her lower back, the curve of her waist. She arches into me when my thumbs brush the underside of her ribs, like her body’s already trained to respond to mine.

God, she’s soft everywhere I touch. Warm and willing and just a little bit trembling.

“You’re burnin’ up,” I murmur against her mouth, grinning when she shivers again. “That from the fever out there, or the one you got in here?”

She lets out a breathless little laugh, half-laugh, half-whimper, and I feel it pulse straight through me. Makes my grip tighten, my mouth trail kisses down her jaw, down her throat.

I suck at the soft skin there, just enough to mark her.

She gasps. “Wade.”

“Shh, I got you,” I whisper, fingers sliding down, catching the waistband of her pants and tugging her closer until she’s standing between my legs again, her thighs brushing mine, heat pressing right against where I’m already hard and aching for her.

I look up at her from beneath my lashes, hands stroking the backs of her legs. “You gonna let me take care of you, honey?”

She nods.

That’s all I need.

I stand slowly, body rising to cover hers, my hands never leaving her as I guide her backward toward the bed. Her knees bump the mattress, and she sits with a little gasp, looking up at me like I just offered to rearrange her stars.

I kneel in front of her. No games. No teasing.

Just both hands sliding up her thighs, parting them gently, like I’m peeling open something sacred.

“You know what I love about you?” I say, voice low, eyes locked on hers as my fingers stroke slow circles along the inside of her thighs.

She swallows, eyes dark, lips parted.

“You talk a big game, but right now? You’re shakin’ for me. Sweet little hands balled in the sheets like you’re gonna fly apart if I blow on you too hard,” I say.

She lets out a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and I smile, because yeah, that’s the sound I was after.

“I like a girl who knows how to take what she wants,” I whisper, brushing a kiss to the inside of her knee. “But I love a girl who knows how to let herself be given to.”

Her breath catches again.

And I go slow. So slow.

Because that’s what I do. I make it last. I make it mean something.

And when I finally put my mouth on her, she forgets how to breathe.

Her breath catches as I kiss the inside of her thigh again, just above the knee this time. My hands spread wider, thumbs brushing up toward where she’s already warm and damp for me.

“Yeah,” I murmur, watching the way her chest rises, shaky and fast. “That’s it. You just keep sittin’ pretty for me, darlin’. Let me take my time with you.”

I kiss a little higher, then higher still, trailing heat with every inch. I feel her thighs tense beneath my hands, feel the way her fingers clutch at the sheets, knuckles white like she’s bracing for impact.

But I ain’t even touched her where she needs it yet.

That’s comin’.

I press one soft kiss right over her panties, lips warm against damp cotton. She gasps, hips twitching, and I grin against her. “Shit, honey… you’re soaked.”

She whimpers. Whimpers.

And it’s the prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.

I hook my thumbs into the waistband and slide her underwear down her legs, slow enough to watch her breathe harder for every inch I uncover. When I toss them aside, she spreads a little wider for me, like her body already knows I’m about to worship it.

And I do.

I don’t dive in fast. I just look first, really look. She’s glistening, flushed, so swollen and ready I could come just from the sight of her.

But I’ve got better plans.

I lean in and lick a slow stripe through her folds, just enough to get a taste. Her whole body jumps, her breath hiccups, and my name slips out of her like a prayer.

“Mm,” I hum against her, dragging my tongue up again, this time pausing to circle her clit, slow and steady. “Sound even better than I imagined.”

She lets out a broken moan, thighs trembling around my shoulders. My hands grip her hips, holding her open, keeping her still while I get to work.

I lap at her with long, deliberate strokes, tongue teasing, tasting, memorizing. I don’t rush a damn thing. I take my time. Let her feel every second of it.

When I flick my tongue just right, she cries out, hips bucking into my mouth. I groan, low and deep, and pin her a little tighter, mouth locking on, tongue circling her clit in tight, slow pulses.

“God, Wade, I can’t,” she says.

“Yes, you can,” I murmur, voice muffled against her. “You will.”

I slip one hand down, fingers sliding through her slick before easing one inside. She gasps, head falling back. I keep my mouth on her clit while I pump slow, steady strokes, curling my finger just so. When I add a second, she moans louder, hips lifting off the bed like she’s trying to climb into my mouth.

“That’s it,” I murmur. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Just fall apart, honey. I got you.”

Her legs tremble around me, her breath stutters, and then she breaks.

She comes with a full-body shudder, back arching, thighs clenching around my head. I groan again, tasting her, drinking her in like she’s the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever been given.

When she finally goes still, boneless and breathless, I pull back and kiss her inner thigh. Then the other. Then the soft curve of her hip, just because I can.

She looks wrecked. Perfect.

But I’m not done.

I rise slow, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, and crawl over her body. She’s flushed all over, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving. And those eyes? Blown wide and locked on me like I’m the only thing keeping her from drifting off the edge again.

I brush her hair back, lean down, kiss her sweet.

“You still with me?” I whisper.

She nods, breathless. “More.”

I groan, forehead dropping to hers. “You tryin’ to kill me, darlin’?”

Her smile is slow and filthy. “Not yet.”

I chuckle, reach down to stroke myself, slow, teasing her slick entrance with the head of my cock. She moans when I press against her, hips lifting in invitation.

And yeah, I want this. But I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to fill her. I want to feel every goddamn inch of her wrapped around me while I make her fall apart again, slow and steady, the way she deserves.

I push in, slow and deep, inch by inch.

She gasps, hands flying to my back, nails dragging down my spine as I slide inside her.

“Shit,” I hiss, forehead pressing to her shoulder. “You feel so goddamn good, baby.”

I hold still for a beat, just feeling her, tight, hot, pulsing around me. She shifts under me, hips rolling, and I groan like a man about to lose his mind.

I start to move. Slow. Controlled. Deep.

My hands find hers, lacing our fingers, pressing them into the mattress as I roll my hips in long, lazy strokes.

She moans with every thrust, breath hitching each time I bottom out.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” I whisper, brushing kisses along her jaw. “Every damn inch. You were made for this. For me.”

She cries out, back arching as I hit just right. I grind my hips, pull out slow, then thrust back in deeper. She whimpers, writhes beneath me, and it’s the hottest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

Her climax builds fast this time, sharp and desperate.

“Wade, Wade, I’m gonna…”

“Go on,” I whisper. “Let go for me.”

And she does. She shudders, thighs squeezing, walls fluttering around me as she comes again, harder this time. I press in deep and hold, feeling her clench and tremble, until the pressure inside me finally snaps.

I groan her name, low and hoarse, and spill into her, grinding slow through every wave until I’m spent and shaking, forehead resting against hers, both of us panting like we’ve run miles.

I kiss her again. Slow. Sweet.

“You good?” I murmur.

She nods, blinking up at me like she’s still floating. “Better than good,” she whispers. “Wrecked.”

I grin, press a kiss to her temple. “Wrecked is my specialty, sweetheart. And you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

I hold her there for a minute longer, her body still soft and heavy against mine, heart beating all slow and syrupy.

She hums when I run my hand down her side, like she’s still deciding whether she wants to melt into the mattress or climb me like a tree.

“Can’t feel my legs,” she mumbles.

I grin and brush my nose against her cheek. “That’s the goal, darlin’. Means I did my job right.”

She sighs. Happy. Spent. Sated.

My chest pulls tight with it, because I want this to be a thing. Not just the sex. Not just the sweetness. All of it. The calm after. The way she curls into me like she belongs there.

I stroke her for a little longer, just letting her settle. I like the way she feels like this, messy and smug and exactly where she’s supposed to be.

But after a few minutes, she shifts.

Not away. Not out of reach. Just up.

Her fingers tap lightly at my chest. “Okay,” she says on a breath. “As much as I want to stay right here and keep being emotionally unstable and extremely well-fucked…”

I chuckle low in my throat. “You got plans, don’t you?”

“Oh, baby,” she says, stretching like a cat. “I always have plans.”

She slides out of bed and starts reaching for clothes, one of my shirts, because of course.

I just lean back, watching her move. “Snack?” I ask.

She whirls around, eyes wide, hair wild, shirt halfway over her head. “Maybe second lunch. What time is it?”

I shrug. “End of the world o’clock?”

She points at me like I’ve just said something profound. “Exactly.”

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and reach for my jeans. “So what’s next? You wrangling another man, or feeding the ones you already caught?”

“Little of column A, little of column B,” she says sweetly. “Brock’s still feral. Holden’s thinking about being reasonable. Evan and Dean are…well, Evan’s trying not to admit he likes me, and Dean’s trying to get us all to play strip poker after dinner.”

I laugh. “And me?”

She leans in, presses a kiss to my cheek. “You’re the one I count on.”

Well damn. That’ll put a man to work.