"Kade?" she breathes, her voice already heavy with sleep.
"Yeah?"
"You fuck like a god."
I let out a short, breathy laugh against the back of her neck. "Careful, little bird. The last thing you want to do is give me a god complex."
"Maybe that's exactly what I want. Build a shrine to Kade Bishop.” She hums, a low, vibrating sound of pure satisfactionas she settles deeper into my heat. “I’ll be eagerly on my knees, worshiping your very impressive cock.”
“I love the sound of that, little bird.” I tighten my arm around her, the weight of her surrender sinking into my bones. "Go to sleep."
"Never let go," she murmurs, her breath finally evening out.
"Never."
Sleep takes me the way it does after combat—fast and total, no edges.
Morning comeswith Wren pressed against my side, one leg thrown over mine, her breath warm against my chest. She stirs—that soft moment of confusion before reality crashes back. Her body goes from pliant to rigid, her breathing catching as the weight of Black Helix and the wreckage of the night before settle in her eyes.
But she doesn't pull away. She presses closer, her hand sliding down my stomach, low and proprietary.
"Morning," she murmurs, her voice a gravelly wreck. She shifts, sliding down the mattress until she’s between my thighs. She looks up at me, a wicked, sleepy smile tugging at her lips. "I believe I promised you some morning worship. A god shouldn't have to wait, right?"
"Wren—"
She doesn't give me a chance to argue. She takes me into her mouth, warm and wet and devastatingly thorough. It’s slow, deliberate, and entirely focused on the "god" she claimed I was last night. I tangle my hands in her hair, my hips bucking off the mattress as she takes me deep, testing her limits and mine.The friction of her tongue is a slow-burn fuse, and just as the pressure reaches the breaking point, I growl and haul her up.
"Not like that," I rasp, flipping her before the first drop can spill.
I bend her over the edge of the bed, her palms flat against the rumpled sheets. I deliver a sharp, stinging smack to her ass—the skin flushing a beautiful, instant pink—and she let out a sharp gasp that’s half-sob, half-demand. I drive into her from behind, hard and fast, the rhythm echoing the frantic energy of the night before. She’s a storm of motion, her head thrashing, her voice a wreckage of my name until we both go over the ledge.
I don't let the afterglow settle. I haul her up and march her toward the bathroom.
"Shower," I grumble against her neck. "We’re late."
The water is scalding, steaming up the glass in seconds, but the heat of her pressed against the tile is worse. I pin her to the wall, the spray slicking her skin as I take her again, one hand braced against the grout, the other holding her hip steady. It’s frantic and wet, the sound of our breathing lost in the roar of the water. I fuck her until her legs are shaking too hard to stand, until the only thing keeping her upright is my weight pinning her to the stone.
By the time we finally stumble out, the room is thick with steam and the scent of us.
"Coffee?" I offer, because sorry, an international crime syndicate is still hunting you doesn't roll off the tongue.
"God, yes." Her voice is rough with sleep and everything else we just did. "Please tell me your brother stocks real coffee".
"He doesn't." I extract myself carefully, reaching for my jeans. "But I do".
The camp stove takes a minute—propane hissing before the flame catches. She watches from the bed as I work. Two sugars, a splash of milk from the powdered supply.
"You stock this place?" She accepts the mug with both hands.
"I stock several places." I lean against the counter, giving her the distance she needs. "Backup locations are like ammo—better to have too much than not enough."
"How many times have you needed them?"
"Enough."
She takes a sip, studying me over the rim. "Show me."
"Show you what?"
