"I'll always come back, Sloane. You don't have to worry about that."
I drag my mouth from hers only long enough to grip the hem of her soft cotton tee and yank it over her head in one rough pull. The fabric catches on her ponytail for half a second before it’s gone, tossed somewhere behind me. Her bra is black lace, barely there, and the sight of it against her skin makes my cock throb so hard, I have to grind my teeth.
“Jesus, Sloane," I grunt, having to force myself not to grope her like an idiot.
Her fingers are already clawing at my belt, metal clinking, leather hissing free. I shove her jeans down her hips, taking the lace panties with them, and she kicks them off along with her sneakers—bought at the thrift shop next to Ellie's diner. Bare now except for that bra, she looks up at me with fire in her eyes and zero hesitation.
I lift her by the waist and plant her ass on the cold counter top. She gasps at the shock of it, thighs parting instantly, wrapping around my hips like she was made to lock me in place. My shirt’s gone next—buttons popping loose—and her nails rake down my chest hard enough to leave red trails.
“Dane,” she breathes, arching when I rip the bra down instead of bothering with the clasp. Her breasts spill free, nipples tight and begging. I close my mouth over one, sucking hard, teeth grazing just enough to make her cry out and fist my hair.
My hand slides between her legs with no teasing or gentle bullshit. She’s soaked, slick—coating my fingers the second I push two inside her. And she clenches around me like a fist and moans my name so filthy I almost come in my jeans.
“Hold on,” I growl against her throat, shoving the cast iron pan and cutting board aside with one sweep. Potatoes scatter across the floor, rolling under the table while I take a nipple in my mouth and suck, and Sloan hisses and thrusts her chest out at me farther.
I yank my zipper down, shove everything to my thighs, and fist my cock before stroking a few times and straightening. Her eyes are wild, legs spread as she reaches for me eagerly, and when I settle between her thighs, she guides me home. It's like sinking into velvet and champagne, gliding through her moisture as her breath hitches and her eyes roll back in her head.
"Oh, fuck," she grunts, and I bottom out and pull back again, building to a slow rhythm that tears another curse from her lips.
I’m not gentle. I can’t be. Not when she’s clawing at me like she’ll die if I stop. Not when she’s whispering, “Don’t you dare leave me,” between broken moans that sound a hell of a lot like mine.
I slam into her again, the counter's edge biting into my thighs but all I feel is her clenching around me like she’s trying to punish me for every second I ever thought about walking away. Her head falls back, throat exposed, and I bite down on the soft spot beneath her jaw, marking her the way I’ve wanted to since the first time she looked at me without flinching.
“Tell me you're mine, Sloane," I snarl against her skin, hips snapping so deep the counter groans in protest. “Make my heart believe it…"
“Yours,” she gasps, nails carving half-moons into my rib cage. “God, Dane, I’m yours—don’t stop?—”
I slide my hand down her sweat-slick stomach, thumb finding her clit, and start circling in tight, fast pulses. She jerks like I’veelectrocuted her, a broken cry ripping out of her as her thighs quake around my waist. I can feel her fluttering, right there, so close, and I drive in so hard her whole body jolts up the counter.
Her back arches, tits pressed to my chest, and I swallow her scream with my mouth as she comes—shattering, pulsing around my cock so tight I see stars. She convulses, twitching and bucking, and I swear I feel blood running down my sides, and all I can think about is the way her walls stroke me. It's incredible.
I’m right behind her. One more thrust and I bury myself deep, groaning, "Fuck, Sloane," into her neck as I spill inside her. I lock my knees to keep them from buckling and my arms cage her in, forehead pressed to hers while we both shake and gasp for air.
Minutes pass—or seconds, I can’t tell. Her fingers are in my hair now, gentle, stroking. I’m still inside her, half-hard and throbbing every time she shifts. Then her lips brush over mine and plead for attention, which I give freely, nipping and sucking her lower lip into my mouth. I could stay like this forever, and I want to, but reality is sinking in, and no matter how perfect this moment seems, we still have life to face, enemies to fight before the happily ever after even has a chance of coming.
“Don’t go to New York,” she whispers against my lips, and her voice trembles. “Stay. Just stay.”
I kiss her slowly this time, tasting salt on her tongue. “I’ll come back, woman. I swear on my life.”
She nods, but her legs tighten around me like she’ll never let go. But then she says, "We should probably move," but makes no effort to unwrap herself from me.
"Probably," I say, but I only back away enough to pull out, then lean back in until her pelvis is tight against mine and my sex drains out of her onto my thighs.
She's flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing. She looks thoroughly ravaged, and satisfaction curls through my chest knowing I did that to her.
"So much for cooking dinner," she says, glancing at the abandoned potatoes.
"We can order something from Ellie later." I'm still not ready to let her go yet. "Or I can finish what you started."
"Order out…" she mumbles, lips finding mine again, and I indulge in yet another kiss. Who’d have thought four weeks ago that this strange woman I picked up half naked in the town square would worm her way into my life so deeply? And who would ever guess that I'd put my life on the line for her instead of turning her out and running to a new city to hide out?
"When I go to the city…" I feel her tense in my arms because she just asked me to stay and I know I can't. "The reason I need you to stay is that I can't focus on taking down Cal if I'm worried about you getting caught in the crossfire."
"I can take care of myself." Her fingers trace the line of my chest piece and I capture her wrist, kiss her knuckles.
"I know you can. You're probably tougher than half the men I worked with. But Cal has resources I don't and if he gets his hands on you…" I can't finish the sentence because admitting aloud how badly it would thrash my heart if she got caught in the crossfire would hurt too much.
She pulls back enough to look at me. "Why do you care so much? Back in the truck, I told you I didn't care about your life and basically?—"
