"Fuck." The word comes out rough. "You feel perfect."
I pull back and drive in harder, setting a punishing rhythm. No gentle lovemaking. This is claim and possession and wanting finally unleashed.
"Yes—" She digs her nails into my shoulders. "God, yes?—"
I hook one of her legs over my shoulder, changing the angle so I'm hitting deeper, and she cries out.
"Louder. I want to hear you."
She doesn't hold back after that. Every thrust draws another sound from her—gasps and moans and broken pleas that drive me higher.
"Touch yourself."
Her hand slides between us, finding her clit, and the added friction makes her tighten around me. I can feel my own orgasm building, feel that edge approaching fast.
"You don't come until I do. Understand?"
"Yes—Shaw—please?—"
I thrust harder, deeper, chasing my release while she writhes beneath me, fighting to hold back her own. When I finally come, it's with her name on my lips and my hand fisted in her hair.
"Now. Come for me now."
She breaks instantly, her orgasm ripping through her, and I feel every pulse, every clench as she comes around my cock.
I collapse on top of her, reveling in her softness and warmth for a moment before rolling to the side. Both of us are breathing hard. I pull her against my chest, my hand sliding into her hair, holding her close.
Afterwards, lying tangled together in sheets that now smell like both of us, she traces patterns on my chest with lazy fingers. Comfortable silence settles between us.
"So that just happened," she says eventually.
"Yeah." I press a kiss to her hair. "It did."
"No regrets?"
"None." I tighten my arm around her. "You?"
"Not one." She props herself up on one elbow to meet my eyes. "But we should probably talk about what this means."
"It means you're mine." Simple statement of fact. "Case ends, you stay. We figure out the details as we go."
"Shaw—"
"Not negotiating this, Mira." I cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing along her jaw. "What we just did wasn't casual. Wasn't a one-time thing. You knew that when you kissed me. So did I."
She studies my face for a long moment. "I live two hours away."
"Then move. Or I will." I shrug. "Either way, this doesn't end when the case closes."
Something shifts in her expression—relief mixed with acceptance. "Okay."
"Good." I pull her back down against my chest. "Now sleep. We've got work tomorrow."
She settles against me, and within minutes her breathing evens out. I lie awake longer, one arm around her, already running through the investigation in my head. Suspects to interview, financial records to analyze, patterns to find.
Someone's burning Brotherhood businesses. Now I've got another reason to catch the bastard.
Sleep claims me eventually, pulling me under into dreamless dark. When my internal clock drags me back to consciousness, dawn light is barely filtering through the blinds. Mira's still asleep when I slip out of bed, her hair spread across my pillow. I head for the kitchen, start the coffee, check my phone. Nothing from the station. Good.
