I pull back just enough to yank the fabric over my head. It hits the floor and her hands are on me immediately, mapping the planes of my chest, the ridges of my abdomen. Her touch sends electricity across my skin. When her fingers trace the scar on my left side where shrapnel caught me during the crash, I catch her wrist.
"Doesn't hurt," I tell her.
"Good." She leans in and presses her mouth to the raised tissue, her breath hot against my ribs. "Because I'm not being careful with you."
The words ignite something primal in my chest. I lift her and she wraps her legs around my waist, the heat of her core pressing against my stomach even through layers of clothing. Her weight settles into my arms perfectly, like she was made to fit there. I carry us toward the nearest bunk, but she pulls me sideways and I brace her against the wall instead, her spine meeting timber with a solid thud.
"Finn." My name comes out breathless, urgent, her pupils blown wide with want. "Now."
I work her jeans open with one hand while supporting her weight with the other, the button giving way under my fingers. She helps by shoving the denim down her hips as far as she can reach, then I'm pulling them the rest of the way off along with her boots. Her shirt and thermal layer follow, and then there's nothing between us but the last barrier of her underwear and my own jeans straining against the evidence of exactly how much I want her.
The cabin air is cold against her exposed skin, raising goosebumps across her shoulders and down her arms. I run my hands up her sides, feeling her shiver under my palms, watching her nipples tighten to hard points. She's beautiful like this, flushed and wanting, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths that fog in the frigid air.
"You're staring," she says, but there's no self-consciousness in her voice. Just heat.
"You're worth staring at." I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, circling it with my tongue before scraping my teeth gently across the sensitive peak. She arches hard against the wall, fingers digging into my shoulders, a broken sound escaping her throat.
I give the other breast the same attention while my hand slides down her stomach, over her hip, between her thighs. She's wet and ready when I touch her through the thin fabric, and the knowledge that she wants this as much as I do sends a surge of need through me so intense it's almost painful.
"Please," she gasps, and I've never heard that word sound so desperate. "Finn, please."
I hook my fingers in the last scrap of fabric and pull it aside, then work my own jeans open with clumsy urgency. The cold air hits my heated skin for maybe three seconds before I'm lifting her again, positioning her, feeling her guide me exactly where she needs me.
The first slide inside her is perfect. Tight and hot and wet, her body opening to take me in one slow thrust that has both of us groaning. She's gripping me so tight I have to pause, teeth clenched, every muscle locked as I fight for control.
"Move," she demands, nails biting into my shoulders. "Don't you dare hold back."
I don't. The wall provides support while I set a rhythm that's anything but gentle, my hips driving into her with a force that makes her cry out. She meets every thrust, working herself against me, chasing her own pleasure while I chase mine. The rough timber must be digging into her back but she doesn't complain, just holds on tighter and demands more with every broken sound she makes.
Sweat beads on my skin despite the cold. The cabin fills with the sounds of our breathing, the slap of skin against skin, her voice rising higher as I hit exactly the right angle. I can feel her starting to tighten around me, inner muscles fluttering, her whole body tensing.
I shift the angle slightly, grinding against her with each thrust, and she breaks. Her back arches off the wall, head thrown back, throat exposed as she comes with a broken cry of my name. The feel of her pulsing around me, the sight of her completely undone, drags me over the edge right behind her. I bury myself deep and follow her into release, vision whiting out as pleasure crashes through me in waves that leave me shaking.
We stay pressed together while our breathing steadies, hearts pounding hard enough I can feel hers against my chest. Her legs are still wrapped around my waist, her face buried in my neck, warm breath ghosting across my collarbone. Outside, the storm hammers against the cabin walls. Inside, I can feel the shift between us, something fundamental that's changed in the space of this desperate joining.
When my legs finally feel steady enough to move, I carry her to the bunk and lay her down carefully. She winces slightly as her back touches the blanket, and I see the red marks the wall left on her skin.
"Sorry," I murmur, running my fingers gently over the abraded patches.
"Don't be." She catches my hand and pulls me down beside her. "I'll take rough over careful any day."
I settle next to her and pull the emergency blankets over us both. She curls against my chest immediately, one hand settling over my heart, her breathing already evening out as exhaustion claims her. The tension she's carried for three years has finally drained from her muscles, leaving her soft and relaxed against me.
Three years she's been running alone. Three years of looking over her shoulder, trusting no one, building a case she might never get to prosecute. The woman who walked into Sadie's café wore armor so thick I almost missed the person underneath.
But she's not wearing armor now. She's letting herself be vulnerable, letting herself rest, trusting me to keep watch while she sleeps.
That trust is a gift I don't take lightly. The people hunting her have already killed Tom and framed her for crimes she didn't commit. They've got resources, reach, and no hesitation about eliminating threats.
They want to destroy her. I'm going to make damn sure they don't get the chance.
7
CARA
Iwake to warmth… not the artificial heat of a wood stove or the insufficient coverage of emergency blankets, but the solid presence of another body pressed against mine. Finn's chest rises and falls against my back in the slow rhythm of deep sleep. His arm drapes over my waist, hand splayed across my stomach, holding me close even in unconsciousness.
For years I've woken alone. Hotel rooms under false names. Rental properties paid in cash. The back seat of rental cars parked in rest stops where no one would notice another traveler catching a few hours of sleep. Every morning has been a reminder that I'm a fugitive, that trusting anyone could get me killed, that the people hunting me have resources and reach I can't match.
