Cracks appear in the wall I've built between us. Micah takes one step forward, then stops himself. Muscle tension cordsthrough his shoulders, visible even under his tactical shirt. Restraint drawn tight in every line of his body makes my pulse spike.
"Sarah." Just my name, rough as gravel.
"Don't." But I'm not sure what I'm asking him not to do. Don't come closer. Don't stay away. Don't make me feel this much when I've spent years building walls against exactly this.
He takes another step. Close enough now that gunpowder and leather and old blood fill my senses, making my breath catch.
"Tell me to leave." His voice drops lower, edged with danger. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll walk out that door."
I should. Every tactical instinct I possess screams that crossing this line will complicate everything. We're in the middle of an operation. Reeve is hunting for Echo Base. The Committee has their fingers in wounds we haven't even identified yet. This is the worst possible timing.
But timing hasn't mattered since he left.
"I can't." Words tear loose from somewhere deep. "I've tried. God knows I've tried to stop needing you."
Micah moves before I can process the decision. His calloused palm cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. The touch and violence coiled in his frame create a contrast that makes my breath hitch.
"I'm here now," he says.
"For how long?" Bitterness edges the question. "Until the next mission. Until Kane needs Ghost for work that requires you to disappear into the dark again."
"As long as you'll have me." His other hand finds my hip, fingers pressing deep enough to anchor. "However long that is."
No promises about forever. No guarantees about the future. Just brutal honesty that cuts deeper than pretty lies ever could.
I grab his tactical vest and pull him down to me.
We collide, years of grief and rage and desperate need exploding in a rush that buckles my knees. Micah's arm locks around my waist, hauling me against him. Every rigid line of muscle presses into me. He fists his other hand in my hair, tilting my head back at an angle that gives him complete control.
Nothing gentle. Nothing careful.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, biting down until I gasp. My gasp snaps his control. Micah backs me toward the wall, each step deliberate and predatory. My shoulders hit concrete and he's already there, body pinning mine.
His mouth moves to my throat. Stubble scrapes my skin, followed by the hot press of his tongue. He finds my pulse point and bites down, marking me. Heat floods straight between my legs.
Need claws through me, sharper than anything I've let myself feel since he left. My hands find his shoulders, nails digging in through fabric.
His mouth against my ear. "Safe?"
Brain catches up. Right. "Clean. IUD. Tested recently."
"Good." His teeth scrape my earlobe. "Because I'm going to fuck you bare and feel every inch of that tight pussy."
The crude words make everything clench. I nod because speech is beyond me.
Micah's mouth crashes back to mine, kiss turning savage. His hands find the hem of my shirt and drag it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip it over my head. Cool air hits my skin for half a second before his palms replace it, sliding up my ribs with possessive heat.
I work his vest open, fingers fumbling with buckles and straps until I can shove it off his shoulders. Tactical gear hits the floor with a heavy thud. He strips his shirt off in one fluid motion and my mouth goes dry.
Time hasn't softened a single edge. Scars I remember and new ones I don't map violence across his torso. Muscle shifts under his skin as he moves back into my space, all coiled power and predatory intent.
His hands find my waist again, thumbs hooking under my waistband. "Off. Now."
I reach for my belt but Micah's already there, flicking the buckle open with practiced ease. He shoves my cargo pants down my hips and I step out of them. My sports bra follows. Then he hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags them down slowly, watching my face the entire time.
Standing naked in Echo Base's analysis room should feel vulnerable. Instead, his gaze dragging over exposed skin makes me feel powerful, wanted, his.
He drops to his knees in front of me.
