We didn’t speak as we walked the hallway.
The compound hummed around us. Boots moving, low voices, the shift from standby to action but all I could feel was her hand in mine and the countdown ticking in my head.
Every step closer to my room was one step closer to leaving her behind again.
I closed the door behind us and locked it without thinking.
Amanda turned to face me, chest rising and falling fast, eyes dark with everything we hadn’t finished.
“I need something to hold onto,” I said quietly.
She didn’t answer with words.
She closed the distance between us and kissed me. Hard enough to steal the air from my lungs.
And that was it.
There was no stopping after that.
10
AMANDA
His mouth was already on mine when the door clicked shut behind us. The sound barely registered.
All I could feel was him. He was solid, warm, and real. His hands came up to my hips and the kiss deepened, messy and urgent and nothing like the careful control he’d held onto in the training room.
I pressed closer, needing the contact, needing the proof that he was still here and I wasn’t alone with the countdown in my head.
He groaned into my mouth and backed me up until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fell onto it without breaking the kiss, dragging him down with me. His weight followed, solid and grounding, one knee settling between my thighs as his hands slid under my shirt.
Skin on skin.
I gasped when his palms found my bare stomach, then moved higher, thumbs brushing under my breasts. I arched without meaning to, every nerve ending lit and aching.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to look at me.
His eyes dragged over my face, my chest, my mouth, like he was committing it to memory. Like this moment mattered more than he was ready to admit.
“You sure?” he asked, quieter now. Still steady. Still in control.
“Yes,” I said immediately. “I want you.”
That was all he needed.
He yanked my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside, then bent his head and took my mouth again. His kiss went deeper, hungrier, like he’d finally stopped fighting it. One hand slid down my side, fingers hooking into the waistband of my sweats.
I lifted my hips to help him.
The fabric came down fast. His mouth followed, kissing his way down my chest, my stomach, lower. I sucked in a breath when his fingers brushed between my thighs, slow and deliberate, like he was checking in again without words.
I was already wet. Embarrassingly so.
He noticed.
A low sound rumbled out of his chest as his fingers pressed closer, finding exactly where I needed him. I whimpered and clutched the sheets, my whole body tensing as he stroked me once, twice.
“God,” I breathed. “Please.”
