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Quinn woke to the utilitarian room she’d been assigned back at the hotel compound. Her arm barely hurt, a dull reminder that she was still here, still breathing, still alive. The numbness of the pain meds was doing its job. The world felt muted, as though someone had turned the volume down on reality, leaving her with only the echo of her pulse and the persistent ache threading through her body. Suddenly she sat upright. Dagger’s presence lingered in the air like a fierce, protective shadow.

She turned her head to find him sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up and his head bowed into his hands, not even aware she was awake. Minute cracks split her heart, the memory flooding her:

The nurse had just finished bandaging her arm, and she heard the commotion. Alarm surging through her, she’d jumped off the gurney and barely remembered leaving the room. She’d caught sight of him, his face contorted with a raw, unhinged desperation, green eyes blazing as he tore around the corner. Two men she recognized as Bondo and Easy chased him, determination in every line of their big bodies as they caught up to him.

He’d almost thrown away his career, his reputation, everything, just to protect her. Her heart thudded at the realization, a pang equal parts warmth and dread. If the team hadn’t intervened, if Dagger’s fists had connected with Langford’s face, the consequences would’ve been impossible to undo. Yet, in that moment, he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that she had been hurt, and Langford was the designated punching bag who had let her down.

Her reaction had been instant. She’d swallowed the tight knot in her throat, and tears had burned behind her eyes, because she suddenly saw him, truly saw him, in all his facets. The unstoppable SEAL with the lethal training. The man who’d once removed her children from her care not to punish her, but to save her, and them, when she had spiraled into grief. The brother who lost Brian but still blamed himself for not being able to keep him alive.

The image of him struggling against his brothers’ grips, consumed with the raging need to protect and avenge her, had left an indelible mark on her memory.

For a moment, Quinn thought of the carnage he would’ve caused if they hadn’t restrained him. He might have destroyed Langford in one swing, might have trashed his own future in a blinding second of rage. All for her.

The sheer weight of that realization pressed down on her heart like a tidal wave. This beautiful, volatile man, powerful, furious, damaged, was also the man who would never let her fall alone.

It was so clear. She could hardly stand the enormity of it.

She knew who she was now.

Dagger had given her the truth to understand, not with words, but with every action, every sacrifice, every time he stood between her and danger. With that truth, with the clarity of finally seeing herself through eyes that neither judged, nor pitied, she craved him like no other man in her life.

This time, she was choosing him.

Not out of grief. Not out of guilt. But of her own free will.

With that thought, she moved one step closer to wholeness.

She’d fought back a sob.

In that moment, she wanted to merge with him, to give in to the overwhelming desire to hold on and never let go.

She glanced down at the bandage wrapped around her bicep, the dull red stain where blood had seeped through. If the bullet had been just a bit more to the right, it would have pierced her heart. The thought should terrify her. It did terrify her. But it also felt oddly…liberating. For the first time, she realized life wasn’t guaranteed. She could be gone in a flash, her boys without a mother, that beautiful man once again tormented by guilt.

A shiver went through her, a mixture of bone-deep relief and an aching new awareness. He’d tried so hard to keep her safe.

All the horrible things she’d flung in his face, every spiked comment or unfair accusation, churned in her gut. How agonizing must it have been for him, to hear her blame him, to watch her unravel, and to still care so ferociously that he’d shield her from everything, even herself.

He was here like he always was, and if he had been at that construction site, he would have taken that bullet for her…her gut clenched hard. He would have died for her. That realization almost made her knees buckle. She pressed her hand against her mouth, eyes burning with trapped tears. Without thinking about anything other than getting to him, she pushed off the bed, wobbling, her voice hoarse. “Kade…”

His head came up, and it was clear he’d been lost in pain, too, but it wasn’t pain for his brother’s loss. It was written across his face, buried with the terror of coming close to losing her, too. It was unbearable. A sob broke loose, and before she could even get to him, he was on his feet in a flash, meeting her close to the bed. “Fuck, Quinn, baby,” he whispered, his face contorting with raw emotion as he reached for her. “Don’t cry.”

She went into his arms, and she felt a shudder course through him as he closed his arms around her in a rough embrace. “Babe, don’t cry,” he whispered hoarsely. His big arms surrounded her so gently, like he was afraid she’d shatter under his touch. For a moment, she let herself sink into that warmth, letting it wash over the raw wound of her fear.

Catching him by the back of the head, Quinn closed her eyes and hung onto him, unable to dam up her unhappiness any longer. Deep sobs were wrenched from her, and Dagger crushed her even closer, his fingers tangling in her hair as he tucked her face against his. “It’s okay, honey,” he choked out. “It’s okay.”

Unable to check her tears, Quinn tightened her hold and made a low, urgent sound, a crazy kind of fear claiming her.

It was as if Dagger sensed that fear, sensed the cause of it, and with a hoarse sound, he shifted her head back and found her mouth, his savage kiss tasting of tears and pain and fear-driven desperation. For Quinn, there was a taste of fury. Something just as raw, just as consuming, something that was connected to what drove him, and she wanted to consume all of it. Every last bit of it.

A low sob contracted her throat, and he dragged his hand up her back, molding them together in a crushing hold, his other hand immobilizing her head as his mouth turned hot, hungry and ravaging. Locking her arms around him, she yielded everything, her mouth, her body, her strength, driven by a need that burned through to her very soul. It was as if her near miss broke his formidable hold on his emotions, and suddenly, everything was out of control.

Widening his stance, Dagger dragged her up into the cradle of his thighs, the hard ridge of his flesh meshing with her softness, and suddenly Quinn couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, for the thick pulsing urgency swelling inside her. Dagger groaned and dragged his mouth away, his breathing harsh and ragged as he lifted her hips against his, a violent shudder coursing through him. His merciless hold fusing them body to body, Quinn wrapped her legs around him, giving him full access to the heat that was denied him by the barrier of their clothing. His breathing harsh against hers, Quinn clung to him, her senses sucked into a mindless need, and she dragged her hands up his back, her fingers digging into steely muscles as she twisted her body against his, trying to bring him closer, tighter, harder.

Grinding out a guttural denial, Dagger dragged her head against his neck, then hiked her higher, holding her immobile against him. His embrace was vice-like. Quinn was aware of the heat and hardness of his body, aware that he was carrying her toward the bed.

Awash with a whole storm of emotion, she uttered a broken cry and convulsively tightened her hold when he tried to disengage her from him. A tremor coursed through him, and he buried his face against her neck, his hand spanning her head. On a shuddering intake of air, he braced one knee on the mattress, steadying their combined weight as he carried her down onto the bed, her legs still locked around him. Quinn sobbed out her response as he lowered himself on top of her, his weight settling heavily in the cradle of her thighs. Sensations and emotions raged through her, and she flexed her legs, thrusting up against him, an incoherent desperation possessing her. He met her urgent thrust with one of his own, the clothing that separated them the only obstruction against the breaking storm. His breathing harsh and out of control, he twisted and grasped her leg, trying to break her hold. “Quinn—baby, let go. Let go.” He shuddered, then pulled free, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Your clothes. Fuck, Quinn, help me, baby.”

Through her delirium, Quinn turned her face against his neck and let her legs go slack, heat and hunger and urgency making her writhe against him. His touch rough and frantic, Dagger stripped away her dress, ripped off her underwear and removed her bra, the cool air a slap against her raging flesh and aching, puckered nipples. He didn’t give her a moment’s respite as he knelt, his dark head dipping down. He clamped his wet mouth over her clit, and she cried out as his tongue glided in burning, exquisite strokes. The pleasure was sharp and riveting and stole her breath. She’d never experienced such an erotic sensation. Unable to hold back, she let out another cry and arched sinuously against his mouth as she came in a searing wave that shook her entire body.

He straightened as the sensations moved through her so powerfully, she thought she was going to come apart again. Then he reached down, touched her clit again, two three strokes just as the waves were subsiding. This second orgasm was even more powerful, her hips arching helplessly, the fierce look on his face making the exquisite pleasure burst and burst until she was mindless with it. She clenched her eyes closed, riding wave after wave.

When she opened her eyes, all she could do was stare at his tense body, his clenched jaw, every sculpted inch of him courtesy of JSOC and Uncle Sam. There wasn’t an ounce of excess fat on his lean, muscled frame, one sexy, sin-worthy, breath-stealing package, a man of convictions, iron-tight control, and beauty both inside his incredible soul and in every gorgeous, delineated bulge of muscle beneath that smooth, sun-darkened, olive-toned skin.His body wasa sucker punch right to her lust, never fueled like this, a feast in lethal prime male anatomy. She took in the honey-toned dark hair that fell over his brow, the chiseled cut jaw, and beautiful mouth that had given her such amazing pleasure.

Finally, she came to his thick, straining erection, and even that part of him was as magnificent as he was.With a low growl encompassing sexual relief and urgent need at the way her eyes roved over him, his face contorted in desire, his words a tortuous whisper. “I lost myself for a moment, but I don’t have protection. If we need to stop–”

“I thought you guys were always so well prepared.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m never prepared with you, babe. You twist me around until I don't know what is right anymore.”

His words only made her attraction for him climb. “I’m safe. I’m on the pill for female reasons.”

His response was immediate. “Touch me, babe. I need your hands on me, your mouth, your sweet touch.”

She wrapped her fingers around the hard, velvet-textured length of him and felt him pulse in her tight grip. She got to her knees, and kissed him deeply, hungrily, desperately while she smeared the silky moisture over the big plum-shaped head of his cock with her thumb. When his head dropped back, the strong column of his throat exposed, like an alpha wolf to his mate as he drew in a sharp breath at the pleasure, and his hips bucked when she sank her teeth into that powerful muscle, biting him then swiping her tongue over his salty, delicious skin. Running her teeth down his throat to his collarbone, then to his taut nipple, she bit him harder, and his hips bucked again, releasing a low guttural sound low in his chest. Her hand still strumming over his erection, she sucked him hard and went to his other nipple for the same treatment.

His hands buried into her hair, tightening until it was almost painful, his restraint and desire an even bigger turn on. He dragged her head back, her skin tingling everywhere, hot and alive with sensation. He captured her lips in an open-mouthed, tongue-tangling kiss. With a soft moan, she gave him exactly what he craved, responding like a woman equally starved for him. Their tongues entwined, demanding, desperate, aggressive and with a driving, passionate force that matched the storm raging inside them. His erection swelled and hardened even more as his mouth devoured her. She pumped him harder, her free hand raking down the length of his chest, deliciously ribbed abs, to the base of his dick. He broke the kiss, a low, untamed rasp ripped from his chest.

His response was absolutely, positively heavenly.

She had never had much of an impulse to go down on any man, and Brian had made his disappointment known. But her only thought was that she had to have him, to taste him, to give him the kind of pleasure he’d given her with his sexy lips. She lowered herself and took him in her wet mouth, his skin hot and salty against her tongue. He shuddered and tangled his hands in her hair, and she sucked him, taking him as deep as she could, and with each stroke, she only wanted him more, his soft grunts, and heavy groans, the way his hips flexed beneath her hands, the pleasure-soaked sound of his voice fed her relentless need.

“ Oh , fuck , Quinn. Christ ,” he breathed, the heat and taste of him sinking into her until her body was a profound ache, needing him in ways she couldn’t define. “Mouth fuck me harder,” he whispered, groaning like a dying man. His nostrils flared, his eyes almost dark from his blown pupils, stark desire turning the ring that was left into molten green. “I need you so much. Need this…so fucking good.” His chest rose and fell heavily, his expression fierce and hungry as he watched her drive her mouth around him over and over again.

She felt him break against her onslaught, that formidable control shattering. He pushed her back until she was flat on the mattress, his powerful thighs forcing hers farther apart. He moved, the slide of his muscled body against hers making her pulse leap higher and faster. Still standing on the floor, he grabbed her waist and dragged her toward him, his biceps flexing and bunching. Then he pressed his erection intimately against her, nudging his way in, stretching her, setting her body on fire. She caught a glimpse of his dark, fierce expression before he crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply just as he buried his shaft to the hilt in her, possessing her completely. Their moans mingled, and once he began to move, she couldn’t get enough of his hard penetration, the sexual energy and potent heat radiating off him.

His big, hot, calloused hands closed over her breasts as he plunged into her, fast and deep and strong, a rich, seductive rhythm that pulsed as vitally as her heartbeat, and for the first time in her life, she felt vibrantly alive. Rubbing and massaging, then rolling her hard, sensitive nipples between his fingers, his big, delineated body thrust over and over again, and he bent toward her, buried his face against her neck, his ragged breath hot and damp against her skin. “You are so fucking tight, so hot and wet,” he rasped in her ear. She grabbed handfuls of his hair, wanting more, needing more. He slanted his mouth across hers, kissing her just as recklessly as he was pumping into her, and she kissed him back just as recklessly.

He broke the kiss, lowered his head, and closed his mouth over her taut, aching breast. His thumb found her core and he teased over the aching nub, as he sucked her nipple strong and deep, until she felt that same seductive, pulling need deep in her center. An electric jolt zapped through her, exploding in heated ripples across her nerve endings. His thrusts were getting deeper, slower, his breath coming faster, and the combination of his hot sucking mouth, his relentless thumb, and his flexing hips driving himself into her over and over ignited such a strong orgasm, that she arched hard under him, her body so alive with pleasure she could barely breathe.

Dagger released the sexiest, masculine sound low in his chest, vibrating against her nipple as he jerked violently against her, bucking as that sound went hoarse and high and succumbed to his own blistering orgasm.

She clutched him to her as he took his pleasure, his release so much a part of her, sharing himself with her in this moment set off an incoherent frenzy claiming her. His fingers tangling in her hair, Dagger held her head as he covered her mouth in a punishing kiss that blasted through all her emotional defenses, that stripped away reality. Drinking in the sounds that were driven from her, he held her tightly, a fragmented groan shuddering from him. Dragging his mouth away from hers, he buried his face against the curve of her neck, a hard, wild urgency shuddering through him. There was no holding back. He gave so much to her in that moment that she could scarcely breathe with the weight of this man’s generosity. It unleashed a storm like no other, raw and violent. Engulfing. Her thoughts went back to him, out of control in that hospital, going for Langford’s throat.

She held him until his breathing evened out, and when he went to slip off her, she held him harder. “Don’t go,” she whispered, his heavy weight the only thing that was real and solid in her shattered universe. Her whole body trembled from the aftermath, tears slipping from her eyes from the mind-shattering emotions that filled her from experiencing an absolute and total joining with him. That feeling was mixed with a profound ache. Hhad she ever felt this way with Brian? Her heart sank because it hurt so much. Brian had never given her such uncontrolled emotional honesty, and the awed discovery of what real passion was made her squeeze her eyes closed, knowing without a shadow of a doubt she had never ever felt this close to a man before.

“I’m too heavy,” he murmured, sounding as shattered as she was. A jagged sigh escaped him, and he pressed a kiss against her neck, something profoundly poignant in the touch of his mouth against her.

“No, you’re not.” Not in body or in the weight of all that he carried. Dragging one arm free, Dagger cradled her head closer against him, the labored pounding of his heart vibrating through her. He inhaled raggedly, then brushed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder.

Quinn flattened her hand against the back of his neck, loving the way his hair was so fine and soft at the base, such a contrast to his intimidating, hard-muscled body. It was a long time before Quinn was fully aware of anything but Dagger. Then pieces of reality filtered through, the jumble of bedding beneath her, the rough texture of his beard, the light that spilled in through the window. But it was his weight she was most conscious of and the wet thickness of him still deep inside her. Closing her eyes, she slowly smoothed her hands up his torso, savoring the damp texture of his skin and the denseness of the underlying muscles.

Dagger inhaled deeply, then eased some of his weight onto his forearms, the small shift rocking his pelvis against hers. The moment sent aftershocks of sensation shooting through her, and Quinn clutched him, her breath catching. She locked her legs over his thighs, moving to keep him deep inside her. He remained motionless for a moment, then bracing his weight on his arms, he cradled her head in both hands, his mouth covering hers with a moist, lingering kiss. There was such raw tenderness in that kiss, she opened her mouth to drink it all in. He tightened his hold on her face, his mouth soft and searching as he deepened the kiss. With the same infinite gentleness, moving her beyond words.

He stroked his thumbs along her jaw, then with an uneven sigh, he reluctantly lifted his head. Embracing all the emotions that filled her, she touched his face, her voice breaking. “You’d give up…everything for me, wouldn’t you?”

A look of deep disquiet darkened his eyes, stark and direct. He pressed his thumb across her mouth, his voice husky as he whispered. “Every goddamn thing.” He pulled on one of her curls and watched it bounce.

“You’ve always been there for me. Every step of the way. Even when I pushed you away, hurt you, slapped you, and hurled such cruel things at you.”

He winced slightly, as if her words had touched something raw inside him. “I forgive you, Quinn. Sometimes we do things we regret. Grief has a way of changing us.”

“You’re still doing it,” she whispered. “Still there for me, but I know I hurt you, and I regret everything so very much.”

“That means a lot,” he whispered back. He held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his head and kissed her, but in spite of the tenderness of that caress, she sensed something dark and troubling in him. Cupping his cheek, she drew away from him, her eyes somber. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t look away, the disquiet in his eyes deepening, then he looked away, his expression taut. “I don’t think I would have survived losing you,” he said gruffly. Fighting the sting of tears, and a sureness inside her that it wasn’t what he had been about to say, but in this moment, nothing else was important except this between them. “Quinn, I?—”

She pressed her fingers against his mouth to silence him. “No more needs to be said right now. Rest, babe. Just let us rest here for a while.” She couldn’t imagine what doubts he carried, and there was still so much left unspoken between them, a reckoning on the horizon, but not right now. She just wanted to savor every bit of him. His muscles were like steel, his body so distracting. She ran her hands over his back down to his butt, finer than any man she’d ever seen. “You’re a beautiful man, Kade,” she murmured. He grunted like he didn’t want to respond to that. Then he lifted his head.

“Let’s talk about real beauty. Geezus, Quinn, you are so gorgeous.”

Her cheeks heated. “I’m so glad I hit the gym as hard as I could. I’m no cover model.” Unbidden, Brian’s words after she’d had the twins came back to her. Babe, you need to hit those weights a little harder. Wouldn’t want to stay flabby. He’d said it like it was an offhand comment, but his words had stung. Dagger was still talking, and she was mad at herself for letting that memory intrude.

The old Quinn, the woman she used to be before her life shattered, never second-guessed herself like this. But now, stripped bare in the dim light, she felt the weight of her own self-consciousness creeping in. “My body isn’t the same as it was years ago. Not after carrying twins, not after the war I’d waged against myself in grief.” She rubbed at the faded marks, still there, faint silver reminders of her pregnancy. His eyes watched her, and there was only hunger in his pale green depths. She was damn glad she’d hit the gym as hard as she had after getting sober, but here now, under his gaze, she couldn’t silence the flicker of doubt.

Dagger noticed. Of course he did. He always saw too much.

She made a move to shift away, to grab the sheet, but before she could, he was there, one hand catching her wrist, the other flattening against her stomach, anchoring her in place.

“You really think I give a damn about a few marks, Quinn?” His voice was low, edged with something rough and undeniable. “That just means your body did something incredible. It carried life, my blood, my boys. I look at you, and all I see is strength.”

Her throat went tight. She forced a breath, rolling her eyes to deflect. “Damn, Kade, that’s a hell of a line.”

His grip on her tightened, not rough, not demanding, but firm enough that she felt it all the way to her bones. “That’s not a line. That’s the truth.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, well, I had to work my ass off to get back into shape.”

A slow, almost dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “You think hitting the gym is what made you beautiful?” His thumb brushed just below her ribs, a lazy, possessive stroke. “You were already there, babe. All that did was remind you of it.”

The way he said it, so damn matter-of-fact, like it was indisputable, made something deep inside her twist with a melting tenderness for this man she held.

Still, she tried again, shaking her head. “Dagger?—”

But then his palm was sliding lower, tracing the soft plane of her stomach, the faint lines she’d been so hyperaware of. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t shy away. “This body? It’s perfect,” he murmured, voice like gravel and promise against her skin. “If you ever doubt it again, I’ll just have to remind you, over and over, until you believe me.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

God help her, but she believed him, and she ached with all that was between them, and all that wasn’t.

For so long, anger had felt like all she had left. Anger at Dagger. Anger at Brian’s death. Anger that her life had turned inside out in what felt like a cruel cosmic joke. Part of her had thrived on that fury, letting it define her. Because she craved depth, craved meaning, craved that sense of identity rooted in intense emotion, and her grief had become both a compass and an anchor.

Letting go of that grief seemed tantamount to abandoning Brian’s memory. If she stopped blaming Dagger, if she stopped raging, what would be left of the story she’d told herself? The one where she was Brian’s grieving widow, burdened with tragedy and righteousness in her suffering.

But this day, this near-death moment, had cracked her open.

If she stayed bound to the past, if she kept clinging to the chains of her pain, she might never truly live again. Never break free from the narrative that had shackled her since Brian’s death.

Healing doesn’t equal forgetting.

The idea took root in her mind, quiet at first, but unrelenting.

Healing meant acknowledging Brian’s faults as well as his virtues, accepting that their marriage hadn’t been a storybook romance. It meant forgiving Dagger for not being able to save Brian and forgiving herself for wanting something more than the life she’d known.

Her eyes slipped shut, tears escaping despite her attempts to hold them back. Forgiveness didn’t mean absolving blame. It meant freeing herself.

That was the truth she’d been hiding from.

If she let herself heal, she’d have to face the terrifying possibility that she might still have a future, one that included letting go of Brian in a way that honored his memory without chaining her to it. Possibly, maybe even letting Dagger in enough to create something new.

She pressed her hand against her bandaged arm, feeling the painful throb and yet a strange, unsteady gratitude for the chance to reevaluate everything. She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to take that leap, but for the first time, the idea of stepping forward, of taking Dagger’s outstretched hand, didn’t feel like a betrayal.

It felt like possibility.

That realization, as terrifying as it was, made her feel more alive than she had in years.

Quinn let out a slow exhale, her lips curving despite herself. “So… you weren’t kidding about your stamina.”

His chest rumbled with a low, satisfied sound that was damn near a purr. He didn’t even open his eyes, just smirked. “Babe, I never kid about stamina.”

She laughed softly, shifting slightly, only to feel a deep ache in muscles she hadn’t used in far too long. “Wow.” She stretched out her legs, testing her limbs. “Who do I write my thank-you email to? Tex? Your BUD/S instructors? Uncle Sam?”

Dagger finally cracked an eye open, that pale green gaze sharp with amusement. “Send it to the entire US Navy, sweetheart. But if you want to get personal, I’d say Tex deserves at least a ‘job well done.’”

Quinn bit her lip to keep from laughing outright. She lifted onto one elbow, mock-serious. “You think he’ll accept a fruit basket?”

Dagger’s eyes darkened slightly as his fingers drifted lower, teasing just above her thigh. “I can think of better ways to show your appreciation.” His shaft thickened and hardened inside her.

Heat flashed through her, just like that, and she huffed out a breath, unable to hide the way her body responded to him. “Maybe I can send a whole damn orchard? Can you give a girl a minute?”

He chuckled, a low, knowing sound, and before she could react, his hand smoothed up the curve of her body over her breast, pinching her nipple, slow and possessive, his palm warm against her still-flushed skin.

“Didn’t hear you complaining earlier.”

She felt the smirk in his words, and her stomach fluttered, a dangerous, beautiful kind of sensation.

Quinn met his gaze. There was teasing in his expression, but something else too. Something that made her heart beat harder.

Because this wasn’t just about the way he touched her.

Or how he made her feel.

It was about this.

As he started to move inside of her, this stolen, breathless moment between them, where nothing else existed, where she wasn’t grieving, and he wasn’t guarded. Where it was just them. That? That was terrifying.

Because for the first time since her breakdown… She wasn’t thinking about Brian. She was thinking about Dagger.

She didn’t want to stop.

She had spent years pushing him away, drowning in blame and grief, convincing herself that her hatred of him was justified. That rage had burned itself out, leaving something raw and terrifying in its place.

Because it wasn’t just anger she’d been hiding behind. It was fear.

Fear of what he meant to her. Fear of how much she needed him. Fear that if she let him in, truly let him in, there would be no going back.

God help her, he was more than irresistible. He was so strong. So giving. So devastatingly real. He said what he meant and meant what he said. His integrity was off the charts, undeniable, unshakable, powerful.

How could she keep resisting him now… when her eyes were finally opening to the truth?