"You could have." My voice cracks. "You went out there to protect Lucas and you could have died and I?—"
I can't finish the sentence. Can't articulate the terror that's been clawing at my throat since Sarah said "contact," the relief that's making my hands shake, the realization that I can't lose him again.
Won't survive losing him again.
Colton slides off the exam table, moving carefully but steady. He crosses to me, one hand cupping my face with callused fingers that smell like gunpowder and blood.
"I'm here," he says. "I'm okay. We're both okay."
"This time."
"Rachel—"
I kiss him before he can finish whatever reassurance he's about to offer. No gentle exploration this time, no building tension. Just desperate need to confirm he's alive, he's real, he's here. My hands find his face, his shoulders, his chest, checking for damage and warmth and pulse.
Stryker responds immediately, one arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer despite the fresh stitches in his other arm. His mouth moves against mine with matching urgency, and when his tongue slides past my lips I taste copper and want.
"Your quarters," I gasp between kisses. "Now."
He doesn't argue. Just takes my hand and leads me down the corridor to the small room that's his personal space in thisunderground facility. The door closes behind us and I'm on him before he can turn around, pressing him back against the wall, claiming his mouth with bruising intensity.
"Rachel—" He tries to speak but I swallow the words.
"Shut up," I breathe against his lips. "Just shut up and let me?—"
My hands find the fastening of his tactical pants, fingers working the buckle with shaking urgency. Eight years. Eight years since I've touched him like this, and I can't wait another second.
"Wait." His hand covers mine, stilling my movements. "Are you—do we need?—"
"I'm clean and on birth control," I tell him, understanding immediately. "Have been since Lucas. We're good."
The tension releases from his shoulders. "Okay; I'm clean too. We're good."
Then we're moving again, frantic and desperate.
Stryker's good hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access to my throat. His mouth traces fire from my jaw to my collarbone, teeth scraping skin in ways that make my knees weak. His other hand, the one with stitches, braces against the wall for balance.
"Bed," he growls against my neck. "Need you on the bed."
We stumble across the small room, shedding clothes with frantic efficiency. My shirt hits the floor, followed by his boots, my bra torn aside, his pants shoved down and kicked away. Each piece of fabric removed reveals more skin, more scars, more evidence of the lives we've lived apart.
My hands explore his chest, fingers tracing the lines of muscle and scar tissue, relearning the map of his body. He's broader than I remember, harder, marked by violence in ways that should terrify me but instead make me want him more.This is what kept him alive. This strength, this capability, this dangerous man who chose to protect my son.
Stryker's hands aren't gentle. They span my waist, grip my hips, cup my breasts with possessive pressure that makes me gasp. His thumbs brush across my nipples and I arch into the touch, needing more, needing everything.
"I need to be inside you," he growls against my neck.
The words send heat straight through me. I let him guide me backward until my knees hit the mattress, then I'm pulling him down on top of me, wrapping my legs around his waist to feel the hard length of him pressed against where I'm already wet and aching.
"Colton." His name comes out desperate, pleading.
"I know." His hand slides between us, fingers finding the slick heat between my thighs. "God, Rachel, you're so wet."
He circles my clit with rough pressure that makes me cry out, hips bucking against his hand. The sensation is almost too much after so long, but I need more, need him to stop being careful and just take what we both want.
"Inside me," I demand, nails raking down his back. "Stop teasing and fuck me."
His expression darkens, all control stripped away. He shifts position, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, and then he's pushing in with one hard thrust that steals my breath.
