"It should scare you. I've killed people. More than I can count on one hand. Some deserved it, some were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." His eyes search mine. "I'm not a good man. I operate in gray areas and I've crossed lines that can't be uncrossed."
"You've also saved my life multiple times, protected me when you didn't have to, and helped free twenty girls from trafficking." I lean forward. "You're not good or bad, Mason. You're complicated. And I'm okay with that."
"Even knowing what I'm capable of?"
"Especially knowing what you're capable of." I meet his eyes. "Because I know you'd never hurt me. You would never use that violence against someone who didn't deserve it."
"You're putting a lot of faith in me."
"You've earned it."
He pulls me close, kissing me hard enough to steal my breath. When he pulls back, there's something raw in his expression.
"I don't deserve you, but I'm keeping you anyway."
"Good, because I'm not going anywhere."
We finish eating in comfortable silence, the weight of the day finally catching up with me. When Ice Pick suggests we head upstairs, I don't argue. My body's exhausted but my mind's still racing, the adrenaline from Sarah's news keeping me wired.
His room's become familiar territory over the past few days. I've spent more nights here than in my own assigned room, drawn to the safety of his presence and the way he holds me while I sleep. Tonight's no different.
I shower quickly, washing away the day's stress, and when I emerge in one of his shirts and nothing else, he's sitting on the edge of the bed watching me with dark eyes.
"Come here," he orders, his voice low.
I do, crossing the room and standing between his spread legs. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the shirt higher, and heat pools low in my belly.
"I need you," he says simply. "Need to feel you, need to know you're real and safe and mine."
"I'm here. I'm safe." I frame his face with my hands. "And I'm yours."
That's all the permission he needs. He pulls me down onto the bed, covering my body with his, and his mouth claims mine with a hunger that matches my own. His hands are everywhere, relearning the shape of me, and I arch into his touch with a desperation that surprises me.
This isn't gentle. It's rough and needy, driven by the knowledge that we came too close to losing this. His teeth scrape along my neck, marking me, and I dig my nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave crescents in his skin.
"Mason." His name's a plea and a demand.
"I've got you, sweetheart. I’ve always got you."
He strips us both with practiced efficiency, and then skin's on skin and nothing's between us anymore. His mouth travels down my body, paying attention to every sensitive spot, and by the time he settles between my legs, I'm already trembling.
His tongue's wicked, knowing exactly how to drive me insane. He adds his fingers, curling them inside me, and the combination's overwhelming. I come hard, his name torn from my throat, and he doesn't stop until I'm oversensitive and pushing at his head.
He kisses his way back up my body, positioning himself at my entrance. "You ready for me?"
"Always."
He pushes inside in one slow thrust that has us both groaning. The stretch is perfect, that edge of too much that becomes exactly right, and when he starts moving, it's with a rhythm that has me climbing toward another orgasm embarrassingly fast.
"That's it," he growls against my ear. "Take me. Take everything I've got."
His pace increases, each thrust harder than the last, and I wrap my legs around his waist to take him deeper. The angle's devastating, hitting spots that make me see stars, and when his hand slides between us to rub my clit, I shatter.
He follows me over the edge, my name on his lips, and we collapse together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts.
"Jesus," I breathe when I can form words again. "That was..."
"Necessary." He rolls us so I'm draped across his chest. "Been thinking about this all day. Watching you work, seeing that brilliant mind of yours piece together the evidence. Drove me crazy."
