“Christ,ipoyou feel so fucking good.”Kael’s tone of awe and love had Drew smiling.
“I feel so full when you’re balls deep within me,” Drew groaned.
Kael began with a strong steady rhythm, that after a while became a frantic rush toward fulfilment, hips slamming together, curses, hands gripping tightly to each other.Every touch was a promise, every growl a release.It was connection, redemption, and belonging all wrapped into one.And it culminated in an epic orgasm for Kael that was so big, it triggered another smaller one for Drew.
When the madness was over, they lay tangled together, the sheets damp with heat and salt.Kael traced lazy circles on Drew’s shoulder, his voice low.“You think we can make this last?”
Drew turned his head, meeting his eyes.“Yeah.I think we already have.”
Kael smiled, slow and sure, the kind of smile that reached his eyes.“You’re trouble, Hawkins.”
“Good thing you like trouble,” Drew murmured, eyes heavy with contentment.
Kael leaned in, pressing one last kiss to his lips.“Full throttle,” he whispered against Drew’s mouth.
Drew smiled, finishing the thought.“And overdrive.”
Outside, the waves crashed softly against the rocks, steady and endless, as if echoing their rhythm.Inside, the air was warm, the world small, and for the first time in a long time, Drew let himself believe in forever.
Epilogue
Tane stood at the doorto his interrogation room, plate of food in his hand, staring at the empty chair.He shouldn’t have been surprised.Victor Dane was not the kind of man who asked permission to leave a room—or a life apparently.But the hollow in Tane’s chest at seeing those open cuffs lying abandoned on the concrete floor?Yeah.That surprised him.
The garage floor now felt too quiet without him in it.Too still.The chain that had once run across Victor’s chest lay coiled on the floor like a shed skin, metal glinting in the dim light.Keanu’s laughter filtered through the vents from upstairs—warm, rough, familiar.But down here, the shadows clung to the walls like they were mourning something that had just slipped through their fingers.
Tane set the plate down on the table and picked up the discarded cuffs.He dragged a thumb across the metal, jaw flexing.Victor had picked them—carefully, quietly, without panic.That image hit harder than he wanted it to.
Of course he picked them.
The man didn’t crumble.He calculated.
And somehow, that made Tane’s chest ache more.
He exhaled through his nose.“Could’ve waited,” he muttered.“Could’ve at least eaten first.”
His voice fell flat in the empty room.
