Another round of silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying. With how close we'd come to the night ending differently.
"You scare the hell out of me." The words escaped me before I could stop them.
He turned, that analytical furrow appearing between his brows. "What?"
I dragged a hand over my jaw, feeling the rasp of stubble against my palm. "You walked into a burning warehouse with me. You faced down my family. Tonight, you—" I took a breath before I continued. "You could have died in there, trying to protect evidence about my father."
"Marcus—"
"No." I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. "I can't do this without you. I can't solve this case, and I can't face whatever Raines has planned. None of it works if you're not here."
Something cracked in the careful walls he tried to maintain. They started to crumble.
"I'm here." His voice was barely a whisper.
"Are you?" I caught his face between my hands, careful to avoid his injuries. "Because part of you is still analyzing evidence, still trying to protect me by pushing me away."
"That's not—"
"It is." I traced my thumb along his jaw. "And I need you to stop. Need you to be here, with me, right now."
The kiss was inevitable. It was different from our previous encounters—slower, deeper, weighted with everything we couldn't say. His good hand fisted in my shirt, pulling me closer as if he needed to verify I was real.
I tasted smoke on his tongue. Every point of contact was an anchor, proving we were both still here, still breathing and still fighting our ghostly enemy.
The kiss deepened. His fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt, each coming undone, revealing more of my skin to the room's cool air.
His skin was warm under my touch, his uninjured side smooth and familiar. I trailed my fingers down his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. Each beat was a reminder of how close we'd come to losing each other.
James moaned softly as I brushed my lips against his collarbone, then lower, tracing the lines of his chest with soft kisses. His good hand tangled in my hair, guiding me, urging me on.
We moved to the bed, a tangle of limbs and whispered words. I supported his weight, mindful of his injuries, as we sank onto the mattress. His eyes met mine, dark and intense, full of emotions. I saw my reflection there, the fear and longing laid bare.
Every touch was deliberate. I traced the lines of his body, memorizing the feel of his skin and the sound of his breath. His hands explored me in return, mapping out the terrain of my body as if it were new and precious.
The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of us entwined and desperate for connection. The weight of everything we'd been through was nearly suffocating, but in that moment, it was just us, raw and real and alive.
His fingers dug into my back as I moved against him, our bodies finding a rhythm that was both familiar and new. Each movement was a testament to our survival, defiant against the darkness that had tried to claim us.
I whispered his name against his skin. He responded with a deeper moan, his body arching against mine. The scent of sex mingled with antiseptic cream as our hearts began to beat in sync.
In that moment, we were more than partners or survivors. We were two souls clinging to each other in the face of uncertainty, finding solace and strength in our connection. The fear was still there, a constant undercurrent, but our connection overshadowed it.
As we reached the peak of our orgasms, our bodies shook. I held him close, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine. In that quiet, intimate space, we found a moment of peace, a respite from the storm that raged around us.
When we finally broke apart and collapsed on our backs on the bed, James was breathing hard, his cheek resting against mine.
His eyes were dark and unfocused, the usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.
I didn't move. Didn't pull away. I wasn't ready to let go yet.
James swallowed, his throat working against the weight of whatever he was trying to say. His voice was rough and frayed at the edges when he finally spoke.
"This is a mistake."
I exhaled slowly, my hand still resting against the back of his neck. "You don't believe that."
A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I—"
