Page 96 of Steel Vengeance

And he wanted her.

Not Soraya.

Her.

That realization made her shiver as she tangled her fingers in his hair, feeling him groan softly against her mouth. He deepened the kiss, more demanding now, as if he liked what he’d discovered and wanted more—needed more.

His hands roamed over her back, sending ripples of pleasure down her spine. She had wanted this man from the moment he’d walked into her life, fierce and protective, with a heart as scarred as his body. And now, she had him. All of him.

Her world shrunk to the two of them, everything else fading away. It didn’t matter what happened tomorrow, or that the world outside was full of danger. Right now, it was just them.

His hands slipped beneath her shirt, fingers grazing her bare skin, and before she knew it, he was lifting the fabric over her head. She broke away from his kiss just long enough to let him pull it off, and then it was gone, discarded on the floor.

When her gaze met his, the intensity in his eyes made her heart race. He didn’t smile, but the way he looked at her—with such raw hunger—made her knees weak. Slowly, almost reverently, she traced her fingers over his abs, down to the faint line of hair that led beneath the towel. His skin was warm, the muscles beneath hard and unyielding.

He never took his eyes off her.

When her exploration stopped, he reached up, cupping her breasts in his hands. She moaned softly at the sensation, as the heat between them grew even more intense. He caressed her, savoring every second, and her body responded, a pulse of desire radiating from her core.

She lowered herself onto him again, their mouths meeting with a sense of urgency this time. His kiss was fiercer now, hungrier, and her body tingled in response. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him, her breasts crushed against his chest.

She could feel his hardness through the thin fabric of her pants, and as their kiss deepened, the desire between them became a palpable force, impossible to ignore.

He growled softly, tugging at the waistband of her pants, and she kicked them off easily. His towel loosened and fell away, leaving nothing between them but the charged air.

When their bodies met—skin on skin—she sucked in a breath, her heart pounding. He was so hot, or maybe it was her. Her skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve alive with need for this man.

In one swift move, he flipped them, pinning her beneath him, and there was no mistaking his desire now. It was in his dominant kiss, in the way his body moved against hers, in the rigid heat pressing against her thigh.

Her breath hitched as his body rubbed against her in all the right ways. She opened her legs, granting him entry, her entire body aching for him.

With a low growl, he slid inside her, filling her completely. Her head spun, stars bursting behind her eyelids. She gripped his shoulders, holding on as he slowly pushed deeper into her, their bodies melding together perfectly.

“Oh, God, Stitch,” she whispered, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Tears threatened to spill over, but she blinked them back. He had ruined her for anyone else.

She gasped as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. His eyes were locked on her, filled with something deeper than desire. As he moved inside her, he brushed a tear from her cheek, then smiled softly and kissed her again.

That smile—it melted her. In that moment, he told her everything she needed to know. She could trust him. She could give herself to him completely.

So she did.

Their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that was both urgent yet unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. She clung to him, savoring every touch, every kiss.

No one had ever made her feel like this.

His sculpted back rippled under her fingers, each thrust making his muscles tense beneath her hands. She kissed his neck, her lips brushing over the pulse that throbbed against his skin.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him deeper. His pace quickened, and she gasped as pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. Her body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight with sensation, every inch of her filled with need.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and as his weight pressed her into the mattress, she let out a cry, the sound a mix of longing, need, and pure, unrestrained pleasure.

CHAPTER 36

Stitch had stopped fighting it. Whatever this thing was between him and Sloane, he was done pretending it didn’t exist. He wanted her—had wanted her from the moment he’d broken into her apartment and seen her standing there, naked and vulnerable. She’d slipped into his mind and heart from that day forward. And now, finally, he had her in his arms.

Her body was perfect, every curve made for him. The feel of her skin beneath his hands, soft and warm, made him ache with need. She tasted like everything he’d been craving for months. He kissed her like he was drowning, desperate for the air only she could give him.