Cassidy chuckles low, shaking her head. “You realize you’re addicted to pushing his buttons, right? That man runs on control, and you light matches around him like its sport.”
The message pings away, and a thrill of anticipation runs through me at the thought of his reaction. I don’t have to wait long. Each footfall grows louder, reverberating down the hall with the promise of a storm about to break. The air seems to tighten before Gage fills the doorway, shoulders set, jaw rigid, presence rolling into the room with force enough to steal my breath.
“You went looking without telling me?” His voice is low, dangerous.
I lift my chin. “Would you rather I left it there, streaming us to whoever’s watching?”
His gaze cuts to the corner where the camera winks back. Fury flashes in his eyes before it snaps back to me. “You could’ve been taken or worse taken out by a sniper. You don’t put yourself in the line like that. That’s my job.”
I straighten to my full height, fire sparking in my chest. “I’m not cargo, Ranger. I won’t sit in a box and wait for you to decide if I get to breathe. I’m part of this whether you like it or not.”
His growl vibrates the air, a low warning that should scare me but only makes my pulse quicken. “You are the point of this op, Sadie. Don’t you get it? Everything we’re doing is to keep you alive.”
“Then stop treating me like glass,” I snap. “I’ve survived worse than you know. You think you’re the only one allowed to fight? Watch me.”
The argument spirals, sharp words sparking until the air between us feels like it could ignite. Heat radiates from him, drawing me in despite every warning in my head. His shoulders bunch, chest rising and falling with the effort to leash his temper, and I know the sensible move would be to retreat. Instead, I close the distance, slowly and deliberately, until my chest grazes his and I feel the tremor of restraint running through him.
He exhales sharply, the sound ragged, then drags both hands through his hair as if forcing himself to a stop. Instead of breaking me against the wall, he takes a slow step back, still close enough that the heat of him presses against my skin. His voice is low, not commanding now but careful.
“Sit,” he says, nodding toward the edge of the kitchen table.
Wariness prickles, but I obey. He pulls a chair around, straddles it, and rests his forearms across the back. The posture isn’t dominance; it’s something else—open, steady, almost an attempt at truce.
The silence stretches until I break it. “So what’s the point of this? Interrogation?”
“No.” His gaze softens. “I don’t want the next time we end up pressed against a wall to be the only way we talk.”
The admission unravels something tight in my chest. Against my better judgment, I let the quiet fill with honesty. “I used to think I knew every exit in a ballroom better than the caterers did. I could time a toast to keep a donor from wandering, distract a press contact until the right board member showed up. I was good at controlling a room.” I swallow. “Now the rooms feel like cages.”
His eyes track me, dark but intent. “I grew up running cattle and learning how to patch fences before I was old enough to drive. The military was escape. Ranger school was discipline. Then every op became about control—terrain, target, timing.Now?” His jaw flexes. “Now I’m terrified of losing control where you’re concerned. Terrified I’ll fail you the one time it matters.”
The confession slices through me, sharper than the earlier argument. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees. “You don’t fail. It’s practically tattooed on your forehead. I’m the one who screws up.”
“Don’t do that,” he says softly. “Don’t tear yourself down before they can.” His hand shifts, knuckles brushing mine, hesitant but steady. “What scares you the most, Sadie? Not the mission. You.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them. “That I’ll forget who I was. That this bite, this new skin, means I’ll vanish into something I can’t control. That one day I’ll look in the mirror and not see me at all.”
His hand closes fully around mine, rough and warm. “You’re still you. Stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Impossible. None of that changed tonight, and it won’t tomorrow. The wolf doesn’t erase you. It just adds teeth.”
For a long moment we sit there, hands linked, breathing in sync. It’s not peace, not really, but it’s closer than anything we’ve had since this started. My chest loosens, and when he finally stands, he tugs me up with him. The look in his eyes is steady fire, tempered now, no longer just rage or hunger.
The charged air shifts, turning warmer, more dangerous in a different way. My pulse trips, not from fear but from the truth sitting between us—that what started as survival is becoming something far harder to ignore.
Something inside him snaps. Control shatters, and suddenly his mouth is on mine—hard, demanding, hungry—stealing the air from my lungs and replacing it with fire. My back hits the wall with a jolt, his hands planted on either side of my head, caging me in with heat and strength, a prison I crave rather than resist.
I arch into him, breath tangled in the wet clash of our mouths. His hands explore with slow purpose, tracing every line of me as if he intends to memorize the shape. My tank top rides up, baring skin to the heat of his lips as he works lower, leaving a searing trail along my throat, over the delicate slope of my collarbone, and further still until every nerve feels awake and waiting.
“Gage...” My protest dies on a gasp as he drops to his knees, pushing my leggings off in one swift move.
The cool air brushes my skin, but his heat replaces it instantly. His mouth covers my breast first, tongue circling, sucking until I cry out, then shifting to the other, dragging another helpless moan from my throat. His hands frame my hips as he works lower, leaving a trail of wet heat down my stomach until he buries himself between my thighs.
His mouth latches onto my clit with ruthless precision, tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that leaves me unraveling. My hands fist in his hair, dragging him closer, nails biting against his scalp as I fight to anchor myself while the world spins out of control, pleasure tearing through me with a ferocity that steals every thought.
Cassidy’s muffled laugh carries from the kitchen doorway, a quick glimpse of her before she wisely disappears. The interruption only fuels the raw need building between us, as if being caught on the edge of something so forbidden drives us harder, hotter, until the air itself feels charged with reckless desire.
Pleasure rips through me in merciless surges, leaving no room to breathe. Every stroke of his tongue is ruthless precision, breaking me down piece by piece until there’s nothing left but need. My thighs clamp around his shoulders, desperate to hold him there, and a raw moan tears from my throat, echoing through the kitchen before I can choke it back.
When I shatter, it’s raw and consuming, leaving me boneless against the wall. But he isn’t done. He rises in one fluid motion, tugging me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as he lifts and carries me down the hall, but instead of the bed he sets me down on my knees, guiding me with steady hands, the move both commanding and intoxicating.
