Page 97 of Steel Vengeance

This time was different. He knew exactly who he was holding, and she wasn’t a ghost from his past. This was real, and she was real. Sloane. Her kisses, her touch, everything about her grounded him in the present, pulling him out of the darkness he’d been living in for so long.

When he felt her lips on his skin, all the tension and bitterness he’d carried after killing Omari melted away. He’d expected to feel something, some rush of vengeance fulfilled, but instead, he’d been left with nothing. No satisfaction, just emptiness. But with Sloane, there was no emptiness. She filled him, chased away the grief, the guilt, and the regret.

She was his now, and he wanted to claim her in every way. He knew she felt it too—the way she responded to him, her body moving in perfect sync with his, like they’d always been meant to be together.

He didn’t have to hide anything from her. She accepted him, all his scars, all his darkness. She wanted him anyway, and that was a gift he hadn’t expected. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, grounding himself in her scent. Vanilla and something sweet, something uniquely her.

She was so responsive, so alive under his touch. He loved the way her skin flushed beneath his fingertips, the way her breath caught when he kissed her neck. It made him feel powerful, like he could give her everything she needed, everything she deserved.

He kissed her again, more fiercely this time, pulling her tighter against him. He couldn’t get enough of her—her taste, her warmth, her quiet strength. The way she kissed him back, eager and just as desperate, made him feel like he’d found something he didn’t even know he’d been missing.

He groaned when her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, holding on as if she couldn’t bear to let go. And he didn’t want her to. Ever.

She was everything.

He’d been so focused on revenge, so wrapped up in the past, that he hadn’t realized what was right in front of him. Sloane. She was the light he hadn’t known he needed, and now that he had her, he wasn’t letting go.

As she moved beneath him, her breath coming in short gasps, he felt himself losing control. The way she wrapped around him, the way her body clamped down on his—it was too much, and he was too far gone to stop. He didn’t want to.

He thrust deeper, feeling her nails dig into his back as she cried out his name. That sound—God, it did something to him. Made him feel like he’d won some kind of battle, like he’d conquered something much more important than the enemies he’d hunted down.

His name on her lips was everything.

He groaned, feeling the surge in his body, knowing he was about to explode. His fingers tightened on her hips, and then he was gone, lost in the sensation of her. The world narrowed to this moment, to the way her body moved with his, the way they fit together so perfectly.

He buried himself deep inside her, giving her everything he had, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Sloane,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and filled with something he couldn’t quite name.

She was with him, her body shaking beneath him, her soft cries mingling with his as they both found their release. It was primal, overwhelming, but so goddamn perfect.

When it was over, he collapsed beside her, pulling her close. Her head rested on his chest, her hair brushing against his skin, and he let out a long breath, feeling more at peace than he had in years.

He hadn’t felt like this in so long—content, grounded, whole. Like all the anger, the grief, and the chaos had melted away, leaving only her. Sloane. The woman who had managed to slip past all his defenses and make him feel again.

He stroked her hair, running his fingers through the dark strands. “Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” he murmured, still catching his breath. “You’re lethal.”

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “You must bring out the best in me. I’ve never kissed anyone else like that, ever.”

Her confession sent a warm rush through his chest. He liked that. Liked knowing he was the one who made her feel this way.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Her hand slid over his chest, fingers teasing the sparse hair there, and she kissed his neck again, nuzzling against him. “This is nice.”

“It is.” He couldn’t help himself, he traced his fingers over her nipple, watching it pucker under his touch. She was so damn responsive, it made him want to do things to her, just to see how she’d react, to hear those gasps of pleasure or soft moans that drove him wild.

They were just starting to get lost in each other again when there was a knock on the door.

“Housekeeping,” came a voice from the hall.

“We’re okay,” Stitch growled, not wanting to be interrupted.

She slid toward the edge of the bed, laughing softly. “Should I get that? They probably want to turn down the beds.”

“Too late for that.” He looped his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him.

Her laughter filled the room, and he smiled as he nuzzled her neck, kissing her skin. “I’m not done with you yet,” he growled, his voice of promise.

She gasped as he lowered his mouth to her breast, sucking gently, her body arching beneath him. “Oh, that feels so good,” she moaned.