Page 79 of The Vagabond

“I should’ve never let you out of my sight,” he mutters. “I should’ve had people on every corner. I should’ve had this fucking place wired.”

“Saxon—”

“They came to your door. The Feds, Maxine. My team. They’re supposed to bemine. And they’re still trying to drag you into this bullshit like you’re a resource instead of a person.”

He finally stops. Stares at me.

“They’re not done. They’ll be back.”

“I can’t give them what I don’t have,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t speak. Just moves toward me until we’re toe to toe.

“You’re the only thing I care about protecting,” he says, voice stripped bare. “Not the case. Just you.”

His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for me again—but doesn’t.

“What about Zack?” I ask.

Saxon goes still. His nostrils flare.

“I don’t trust him. I never have. And I sure as fuck don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“Maybe that’s a little harsh. I think he scared them off tonight.”

“Zack can’t be trusted, Maxine. And I need you to stop pretending otherwise.”

I swallow, throat tight, but he barrels on before I can speak.

“If he so much as breathes in your direction, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes and ask for forgiveness later.”

I exhale, shaky. My heart’s a riot in my chest.

“You’re out of your mind,” I whisper.

“I am. Over you.” His voice cracks on the words. “You called me, Maxine. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

My silence answers him. That’s all it takes. He grabs me. Lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me to the bedroom like I weigh nothing. The moment he sets me down, he’s everywhere—kissing me like he needs it to survive, grinding against me like he’s trying to make sure I’ll memorize the feel of him.

I tell him not to be gentle. I beg him not to be. And Saxon listens the way only a man on the edge of ruin can. Like he needs this to survive; like I’m the air he hasn’t breathed in years.

His mouth crashes into mine—bruising, frantic, all tongueand teeth and pent-up hunger. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, clawing, desperate to memorize every inch of skin he already knows like scripture. My clothes don’t come off—they're ripped, torn seams and flying fabric hitting the floor as he pushes me backward until my knees buckle and we hit the bed.

He pins me down like he’s afraid I’ll vanish beneath him. Like if he lets go for even a second, I’ll be gone again. His eyes rake over me—starved, wild, feral.

“Open for me,” he rasps, dragging his cock through my folds. Not entering. Justtorturing. “Let me back in, Maxine. Let me the fuck in.”

I stare up at him—lips swollen, breath shaking, heart clawing its way up my throat.

“You never left me.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes. He slams into me with a brutal thrust that knocks the breath from my lungs and the thoughts from my skull. I arch off the bed, gasping, clawing at the sheets, at his shoulders, at anything to keep me grounded as he fucks into me like he’s carving his name into my bones.

Every thrust is a sentence. Every drag of his hips a confession he never got to make.

“I should’ve come back,” he groans into my neck. “I should’ve burned the whole fucking world down to get to you.”

“But you didn’t,” I gasp, digging my nails into his back. “You left me.”

---