"Okay," I add quietly. "I'll stay."
His hand gentles on my jaw slightly, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Good. Because I just drove hours at illegal speeds thinking about what I'd do if I arrived too late. I'm not feeling particularly civilized right now, and arguing with me would be a mistake."
His hand drops from my jaw and he steps back slightly, giving me space to breathe. "Bedroom. Now. We both need sleep before tomorrow, and I need—" He stops, jaw tightening.
"Need what?"
"To prove you're here. Alive." The admission comes out rough, edged with intensity held barely in check. "To claim what's mine before I have to spend tomorrow planning how to kill the man who tried to take you."
I follow him down the hallway to his room. The door slams shut behind us and his hands are already on me, rough anddemanding. He strips my jacket off, tosses it aside, then grips the hem of my shirt and yanks it over my head.
"Weapons," he orders, nodding toward the nightstand.
I secure my service weapon within reach while he does the same. The familiar ritual, except his movements are sharp with violence barely held in check.
When I turn back, he's already shirtless, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch. I'm looking at a pure predator. The darkness he keeps caged during the day is out now, focused entirely on me.
He crosses the space between us in quick strides, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, and pulls me flush against him. His mouth crashes into mine, brutal and claiming. His teeth catch my lower lip hard enough to sting, tongue forcing past any token resistance to take possession of my mouth. The kiss tastes like coffee and adrenaline and raw need, all consuming demand that doesn't ask for response but takes it anyway.
When I try to kiss back, he bites down harder in warning, making it clear who's in control here.
I kiss back anyway, refusing to be passive even when he doesn't allow it for long. He breaks away, spins me around, and presses me face-first against the wall. His body cages mine, one hand fisting in my hair to hold me still while the other works open my jeans.
"Don't move," he growls against my ear.
I freeze, heart racing, arousal spiking despite—or because of—the edge of danger in his touch. This isn't the Forge's negotiated scene. This is raw and uncontrolled, the operative who eliminates threats taking what he wants.
He strips my jeans and underwear down my legs, then his own. When I feel the hard length of his cock press against my ass, I gasp.
"You disobeyed my orders tonight." His voice is cold silk, one hand still fisting my hair, the other sliding between my thighs to find me already wet. "Made unilateral decisions that could have gotten you killed."
His fingers slide through slick heat, not gentle, finding my clit and circling with just enough pressure to make me moan.
"I'm going to fuck you against this wall," he continues, tone absolutely controlled despite the violence barely leashed beneath it. "And you're going to take everything I give you. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good girl." The approval in his voice makes heat pool lower. Then his fingers are gone and he's lifting me slightly, positioning himself at my entrance. "Hands on the wall. Brace yourself."
I comply, palms flat against the cool surface, and he drives into me in one brutal thrust.
I cry out at the invasion, the stretch, the overwhelming fullness of him buried deep inside me. There's no warm-up, no gentle build, just claiming that's pure and absolute.
"Fuck," he groans against my neck, breath hot on my skin. "You feel perfect."
He doesn't wait for me to adjust. Just starts moving, hard and fast, each thrust driving me into the wall. One hand stays fisted in my hair, holding me exactly where he wants me. The other grips my hip with bruising force, controlling the angle, the depth, everything.
It's intense and overwhelming and exactly what I need. No tenderness, no gentle touches. Just raw connection with someone who understands violence and survival and the darkness we both carry.
"Cole—" I gasp his name, trying to move with him, but he controls even that.
"Stay still," he orders. "Let me take what I need."
The command, the violence in every thrust, the feeling of being completely at his mercy—it all combines to drive me toward the edge faster than I've ever experienced. My body coils tight, pleasure building with desperate intensity.
