Not just the physical weight of her—the trust. The way she let herself be carried without stiffening, without questioning. The way her body relaxed into mine like she'd been waiting for this, too.
I'd carried women before. In training. On ops. Dead weight over my shoulder, adrenaline drowning out everything else.
This was different.
This washer.
And for the first time since Merrick had found me on that street corner, I didn't feel like I was running.
I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
I carried her down the hall toward my room, her fingers threading through the hair at the base of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
"Connor," she murmured.
"Yeah?"
"Don't stop this time."
My chest tightened. "I won't."
I pushed the door open with my shoulder and stepped inside.
The room was simple. Functional and expensive. A bed. A window. A life lived in transit.
But with her in my arms, it felt like something more.
Like home.
I set her down gently at the edge of the bed, her feet touching the floor, her hands still resting on my shoulders.
We stood there for a beat, the air between us thick with everything unspoken.
Then she pulled me down, and the world narrowed to just us.
16
MILA
The room wrapped around us like a secret, its walls thick enough to swallow sound, its air heavy with the kind of quiet that amplified every breath.
Connor's hands lingered on my shoulders where he'd set me down, his thumbs brushing the fabric of my jacket in slow, deliberate circles. I felt the heat of him radiating through the space between us—not touching fully yet, but close enough that my skin prickled in anticipation.
I looked up at him, my pulse a steady drum in my ears. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, pupils wide, swallowing the gray until it looked like storm clouds ready to break.
There was intent in his gaze. The kind that made my thighs clench involuntarily.
"Don't stop this time," I'd said, and the words echoed in my mind now, a challenge I'd thrown down without regret. But as he stood there, towering over me without crowding, I realized this wasn't going to be a collision. It was going to be an unraveling.
I wanted him. So damn badly.
I wanted his hands on me. Wanted his mouth on me. Wanted him inside me.
His fingers slid up, tracing the line of my jaw with a touch so light it almost didn't register—except it did, everywhere. A shiver raced down my spine, pooling low in my belly. He tilted my chin up, forcing my eyes to stay on his.
"You want me?” he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel under silk.
I nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. His thumb pressed gently against my lower lip, parting it just enough to make my breath hitch.
