Page 109 of Vital Signs

My orgasm tore through me like recognition—this was home, this was belonging, this was worth staying alive for. Every muscle seized as I pulsed inside him. The intensity was overwhelming, all that desperate edging culminating in a climax that left me shattered.

"That's it," Misha breathed, still moving above me, prolonging every pulse. "Good boy. Give me all of it. Let me feel every drop."

His praise sent another wave through me, my body giving him everything while he rode me through it. The sight of him taking his pleasure from my helpless release was almost enough to make me come again.

"Such a good boy," he continued, his breathing ragged as he worked toward his peak. "Coming so hard, filling me up just like I wanted. Don't stop touching me. I'm so close."

My shaking fingers kept working between his legs, stroking him through his approaching climax. His movements became more desperate, chasing his release.

"Right there," he gasped, head falling back as pleasure overtook him. "Don't stop. Fuck…"

He shattered above me with a broken cry, his body clenching around me as his orgasm crashed through him. The sight of him coming apart, completely lost in pleasure, was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"You stayed," he murmured against my throat when it was over, his voice soft but fierce. "Even when I dragged you back from the edge. Even when I violated your choice."

"You saved me," I whispered, still trembling. "From the needle. From the emptiness. From myself."

"And you chose me back," he said, pressing his lips to my pulse. "Every day since, you've kept choosing me."

I couldn't find words for what that meant to me, so I pulled him down for another kiss instead. Soft this time, grateful ratherthan desperate. When we finally broke apart, he shifted to lie beside me, head settling on my chest like he belonged there.

We lay tangled together like survivors, like victors, like two people who'd chosen each other over everything else the world offered.

"The capture kit is ready," Misha murmured against my chest. "War's sedatives, zip ties, vehicle prepared. Shepherd confirmed The Factory is ready for an extended interrogation."

I pressed my lips to his hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo. Tomorrow we'd be torturers. Tonight, we were just two people in love, holding each other while Tyler's ashes watched over us like a benediction.

"Stay," he murmured. "Sleep here tonight. In my bed."

The request was bigger than it sounded. We'd always fallen asleep in the van after sex, maintaining the pretense that this was temporary. Casual. Sleeping in his bed, in his space, meant something different. Meant belonging.

"Yeah," I said, tightening my arms around him. "I'll stay."

Misha smiled against my skin, pressing a soft kiss to my chest. "Good."

I pulled the covers over us, settling deeper into the mattress. The grief was still there, sharp and unforgiving. The urge to get high still whispered at the edge of my mind. Recovery wasn't a fairy tale with a happy ending. It was a daily choice, and some days would be harder than others.

Still, for the first time in four years, I fell asleep without wanting to be anywhere else. Even if I knew the peace wouldn't last.

Surveillance was my personalversion of hell.

I shifted in the passenger seat, stretching my legs in the cramped van. My bladder had been screaming for hours. We'd been parked across from Wright's house since sundown.

The cold seeped through the van's metal skin, straight into my bones. January had teeth, gnawing through my layers like tissue paper. My fingertips had gone numb despite the gloves.

"Stop fidgeting," War muttered, not looking up from his tablet. "You'll fog the windows."

"I'm not fidgeting," I lied, immediately fidgeting more to annoy him. "Keeping my blood moving before it freezes solid."

War's eyes narrowed. "If you compromise this operation because you can't sit still, I'll give you something real to fidget about."

"I'd like to see you try," I said, voice dropping lower. "I'm just bored out of my mind."

"It's a stakeout, not an execution," War said through clenched teeth. A muscle jumped beneath the stubble on his jaw, thetwitch so subtle most people wouldn't notice. "We watch. We wait. We strike when it's time."

Xander snickered from the back of the van, where he monitored our surveillance equipment. "Children, play nice or I'm turning this van around."

I flipped him off without looking. My phone buzzed against my thigh, the vibration sending heat straight to my core. I fished it out, knowing who it was.