He pulled my hair to the side and wrapped it around his fist, letting me take control. “Good girl,” he murmured—just like he had last night when he talked me down from a frenzy—but this time, it sent a jolt of need straight through me.
I released his length with a soft pop from my lips and stood between his legs. His hands slid around my waist as he looked up at me with something close to adoration. Both of our chests were heaving, breathless in the thick moment between us. My fingers traced the edge of his face, and he leaned into my touch.
My heart squeezed—an unfamiliar feeling, raw and unguarded. I’d never felt anything like this in a moment like this, with anyone else.
And in that moment of vulnerability, I whispered, “I hate you.”
Shayde grinned, but didn’t show his teeth. “Then you’re going to hate what comes next.”
The next second, I was on my stomach. The sheets were cool against my skin. Shayde moved behind me, tracing up the curve of my back slowly until his hand rested between my shoulder blades.
“Don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of hell,” he muttered, almost like a prayer.
Before I could answer, he pressed into me with one thrust. My breath caught. My fingers curled tightly into the blanket, and his hand slid over mine, interlacing with my fingers.
He set a maddening pace, and I swore I could die happily. It didn’t take long for him to wind me up again, tension coiling tighter and tighter—until, just before I unraveled, he flipped me over.
His forearms braced on either side of my head as he hovered above me, his gaze searching mine. Our breaths tangled. And when he kissed me this time, it wasn’t rushed.
Shayde opened himself to me—let me all the way in—and something in my chest cracked open. My hands cupped his face without thinking, and he started to move again, deep andunhurried. One hand slid between us, finding the most sensitive part of me.
We found our release together, with our lips still pressed to each other’s—like neither of us could bear to let go.
Chapter 51
The cabin door creaked open, but I couldn’t be bothered to care who the intruder was—because it smelled like they’d brought breakfast. I stretched beneath the sheets, arms aching in the best way, and rolled over to find a note on Shayde’s pillow–
Went to get breakfast
Sure enough, the intruder was a freshly showered and dressed Shayde Wylder, who now set a tray of breakfast at the foot of the bed. He was already back in his winter leathers—minus his cloak. Today, we’d search for a safe place to activate the ancient rune portal and return to the Hollow. Scarlet and her crew would meet us there.
“You know you sleep like the dead?” he said, raising a brow as he began organizing the small plates.
I sat up and leaned against the headboard, my voice still thick with sleep. “I’ve been told something like that.”
He settled near my feet and handed me a steaming cup of tea. I reached for it, and to my surprise, he followed with a plate bearing two biscuits and a neat square of butter. I set the tea on the nightstand and got to work spreading the butter. Shayde picked up a bowl of oatmeal and blew gently over the spoon before taking a bite.
“What if I wanted the oatmeal?” I asked, playfully accusatory for so early in the morning.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You don’t like oatmeal. I figured the biscuits were a safe bet.”
“How would you possibly know that?”
Shayde shifted, turning to face me fully, one knee propped on the bed.
“You brought me breakfast almost every morning when I was behind bars,” he said. “And every time, you’d leave the oatmeal untouched. You ate everything else—but not that.”
I blinked at him, caught off guard by the observation. Then, slowly, I stuffed a bite of biscuit into my mouth, chewing slowly.
After breakfast, we gathered our belongings in silence. The quiet was… awkward. And I couldn’t manage a snarky comment or funny retort. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I’ve never shared a night like that with anyone before. And that someone just so happens to be the one I’m supposed to hate.
But the things he said last night…
The way he touched me.
The way he looked at me—like I mattered.
Like I was more than just a mission partner or a hate-fuck he needed to get out of his system.
