Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“You’re scaring me a little,” she said quietly. “Not because I think you’re being paranoid, but because I can see how much this bothers you.”
I stopped, my back to her, hands braced on the wall in front of me. “What if that explosion really had been meant to target us? Or you, since we already knew he was following you. Do you understand what that means?”
She nodded, her face serious. “Of course I do.”
“I can’t lose you, Ada.” The words came out raw, unfiltered. “I fucking can’t.”
Ada crossed the room to me, placing one palm against my cheek, the other on my chest. Her touch burned through me like a brand. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that. Nobody knows that.” I caught her wrist, my thumb finding her pulse point. “All it takes is one mistake. One fucking second where I’m not paying attention, and --”
She silenced me with a kiss, fierce and demanding. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Then don’t waste the time we have now being afraid of what might happen.”
Something broke loose in my chest, a flood of need I couldn’t contain. I scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom, kicking the door open with my foot. Setting her down, I reached into the shower and cranked the hot water. Steam began to fill the small space almost immediately.
When I turned back to her, Ada was already pulling her shirt over her head, her movements quick but deliberate. I watched, transfixed, as she revealed herself to me inch by inch. The curves of her body, the smooth expanse of her skin, the small marks and scars that made her real. Mine.
“Your turn,” she whispered, reaching for my cut with gentle fingers. She pushed the leather from my shoulders and folded it carefully, placing it on the counter.
I let her undress me. When she got my shirt off, she traced the roadmap of scars and tattoos across my torso. I’d never felt self-conscious about my scars with her. She treated them like badges of survival, not marks of shame.
I stepped out of my jeans once she’d unfastened them and shoved them down my hips, along with my boxer briefs. I adjusted the water temperature and we stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over our bodies. I backed her against the tile wall, the contrast of the cool surface against her back making her gasp. My mouth found hers, hungry and desperate, and she tangled her fingers in my wet hair, pulling me closer.
“I need you,” I growled against her neck, my hands sliding down to lift her, positioning her against the wall.
“Do it,” she replied, her legs wrapping around my waist.
I pressed into her with a single thrust, swallowing her cry with my mouth. The water beat down on my back as I claimed her, each movement a declaration. Mine. I’d protect her to the fucking death. I gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, wanting her to feel me tomorrow, wanting a physical reminder of this moment when the world narrowed to just us.
Ada clung to me, her nails digging into my shoulders, leaving her own marks. We moved together in a hard, driving rhythm filled with raw, primal need. Her head fell back against the tile, exposing the long line of her throat to my mouth. I marked her there too, teeth and tongue leaving evidence of my claim.
“Jag,” she gasped, her body tightening around me. “Look at me. Look at me when you come.”
I raised my head, meeting her eyes as she came apart in my arms. The vulnerability in her gaze, the trust, the absolute surrender, completely undid me. I followed her over the edge, burying my face in her neck to muffle the sounds that tore from my throat.
For long moments we stayed locked together, the water gradually cooling around us. I felt her heart hammering against my chest, working just as hard as my own frantic pulse. Slowly, carefully, I lowered her until her feet touched the floor, keeping my arms around her to steady her shaking legs.
I reached behind us to turn off the water, then grabbed a towel from the rack. I dried her first, tenderly wiping away water droplets from her skin, my touch gentle now where it had been demanding moments before. She returned the favor, her movements equally careful.
When we were dry, I took her face between my hands, studying her. “I’ve never had anything worth dying for before,” I admitted, my voice rough. “Never had anything I was truly afraid to lose.”
Ada covered my hands with hers. “That’s what love is, Jag. It’s terrifying.” Love. The word hung between us, neither confirmation nor denial. Just a truth we were both circling.
“Yeah,” I replied, pressing my forehead to hers. “Fuckin’ terrifying.”