Page 82 of Under Fire

But she also felt him wincing in pain. As she ran her hands up the side of his ribcage, she felt the bandage where he’d seemingly patched himself up from where he’d been slashed. Her eyes narrowed in concern, but he pushed her off.

Clearly pushing through the pain, he bent over, licking her nipples, teasing and playing with them with his mouth. Grazing his teeth along her skin, he feasted on her breasts, making her whimper in delight. She panted, trying to get a grip on reality—her mind literally spiraling. She just wanted to scream out how much she loved him—how much he’d made her fall in love with him.

She barely could believe it.

“Okay?” he checked, pushing his cock again into her opening.

She bit her lip, nodding passionately. Wrapping her hands behind his head, feeling his glorious auburn hair, she received his cock in her opening and his tongue in her mouth.

As the bedframe rattled underneath them, he rocked back and forth harder and harder as she called out his name again and again. Finally, the bedframe broke, the headboard sliding down—but he grabbed onto it, continuing to fuck her until she saw the heat rising up his throat. One hand on the broken headboard, one hand on her tender waist, he pumped into her as he growled intensely, savagely—yelling into nothingness out of both pain and pleasure. She felt him come inside her, drenching her already wet pussy in his seed.

Then he collapsed to the side of her, throwing the headboard onto the ground like he didn’t give a fuck. Grimacing and heaving for breath, he turned to her, grabbing her into his arms, caressing her stomach. He drove goosebumps over her sensitive flesh, easily coiling more tension into her already-sated body.

She touched his face, seeing it contort under her fingers. She drew her hand down his ribs, sneaking toward his injury, blaming the doctor in her. He immediately slapped her away from it, his grip on her wrist tightening in threat.

“Don’t,” he panted.

“You’re hurt.”

“I know,” he started, his teeth cutting along his lip like he was trying to find words to say something to her. “I—”

But then he stopped, shaking his head.

He pulled her into him, kissing her hair, kissing her forehead and cheeks. The way he touched her was loving yet apologetic. Then he pushed away, rolling off the side of the bed with a grimace of sheer agony. Standing up, he snatched clothes, whipping them on.

Then he walked out of the room.

As he disappeared, Alisa felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know why—or what. She just knew it was there. Something was wrong. She didn’t move, just listening to the sounds of the house. Where did he go?

When she heard him pulling something heavy out of the basement and opening the front door, she jumped up. What the hell was going on?

She grasped at whatever she could—his T-shirt. Unsure, she padded down the stairs, gazing toward the kitchen. But Warren wasn’t there. Peering around the corner of the hallway, she gathered herself. Warren was standing in the front entranceway, already fully dressed, arranging keys on the front console.

“I got the call,” he said without glancing up at her, working on aligning the keys perfectly.

“The call?”

“There’s been a situation. I’ve got to get to the airfield.”

He still didn’t look up.

Alisa slid down to sit on the bottom step in complete disbelief, watching him from a safe distance, as if getting any closer would just make it hurt more.

“W-What do you mean?”

“I’m flying out in a matter of hours. I’m deploying tonight.”

“Y-you can’t,” she stuttered as she felt her face flush with hurt.

“This is my job. This was going to happen.”

“You knew about this?”

“It was going to happen sooner than later. We both knew.” His tone remained stony, distant. It was the same Warren she’d seen once before.

“You can’t just leave. I’m only safe because you’re here. Without you, I have no chance.” She descended into panic, realizing what was happening.

He shook his head that same way, as if unable to believe it either.

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