Page 98 of Steel Vengeance

“Hmm…” he murmured, flicking her nipple with his tongue, loving the way she writhed beneath him, completely open and unguarded.

He couldn’t get enough of her. After weeks of wanting her but holding back, now there was no stopping him. She was his, and he planned to show her just how much he wanted her, over and over again.

He could feel the heat building between them again, a fire that wouldn’t be extinguished. He glanced up into her eyes, already hazy with desire, and gave her a look that said everything he was feeling.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

In response, she pushed him onto his back, straddling him. God, she was a sight—beautiful, confident in her womanhood, and so damn sexy it made his cock shudder.

They kissed again, deeply, until his whole body ached for her. She teased him, sliding over his skin, driving him wild.

“You’re driving me crazy, woman,” he growled, gripping her hips.

With a wicked smile, she positioned herself above him and sank down. He groaned, his body consumed by her fire.

Her movements were slow at first, deliberate, but he could see the desire building in her eyes. As she rode him, her breath coming in soft moans, Stitch knew he’d never felt this way before. Not with anyone.

She was everything he didn’t know he needed. And he was never letting her go.

CHAPTER 37

Sloane clutched Stitch’s hand, her fingers trembling against his as the chaos of Jinnah International Airport swirled around them. It felt like she was standing in the eye of a storm, the relentless noise and movement a stark contrast to the silence stretching between them. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, nerves coiled tight enough to snap. Every second felt like a countdown to disaster—any moment, she expected the crack of a gunshot to echo off the walls, or the sudden sting of a blade slipping between her ribs. It wasn't paranoia. There was a price on her head.

Jeremy was gone, but Matthew wasn’t—and he was the one calling the shots, according to Pat.

Patrick Burke.

It was clear both Stitch and Blade looked up to the former SEAL commander. They spoke about him in almost reverent tones. Sloane had never met the man, but she trusted him, if only because they did. Pat had promised he’d pull every string he could to get Stitch home. But it wasn’t fast enough, not for this moment.

"Matthew’s gone dark," Pat had told them. No surprise there. He’d know the heat was on after Jeremy’s death. He wasn’t stupid. He was dangerous, calculating. Airports and ports were on lockdown, and an APB was out, but somehow Sloane doubted that would stop a man like him.

Still, for now, she could go home.

Home. The word hit her with a strange mix of emotions. Elation—because it meant she was safe, she could breathe again. Relief—because this nightmare might finally be over. But underneath all that was a heavy ache, a bitter disappointment that gnawed at her. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end. Not like this. Not with a hurried goodbye, not with Stitch left behind.

"I can’t go back to the States," Stitch had said, his voice gruff but tight with frustration. "Not until they clear things up. Besides, I’ve got unfinished business.”

She gulped. Rahul Ghani. She knew he was going after him. Alone.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Blade asked, for the hundredth time.

“No. It’s more important you get Sloane back safely.” He grinned. “And I know how much you love Afghanistan.” There was an undercurrent there, something between the two men.

Blade gave a nod. “Watch your six, brother.”

“Always.”

Sloane couldn’t believe he was sacrificing his safety for hers. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

Blade would be flying back with her, not Stitch. The thought made her heart twist painfully in her chest. She liked Blade—respected him even—but it wasn’t him she wanted by her side.

She wanted Stitch.

What if she never saw him again? The thought lodged in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Was this how it ended, after everything they'd fought through, after all the bullets and blood and sleepless nights? A rushed, awkward farewell in a crowded airport, the last kiss stolen between security lines?

More tears threatened, but she gritted her teeth and stopped them falling. She couldn’t let him see her break. Not now. Not like this. Stitch squeezed her hand, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Blade clapped a hand on Stitch’s shoulder, a silent promise passing between them. “Pat’s talking to Commander Mattison as we speak. He’ll get things sorted. It won’t be long before you’re stateside, man. You can trust him.”