Page 87 of Rampage

When we finally separate, both breathless, his eyes have darkened to pools of midnight blue. "Let me finish taking care of you," he says, reaching for the soap again.

He washes himself quickly, wincing slightly as the suds touch the wound on his arm. The bullet graze looks angry and red, surrounded by bruising that makes my heart ache. I reach for his injured arm, pressing the gentlest of kisses near the wound.

"You could have been killed," I whisper, the reality of it hitting me anew.

"Worth it.”

Those words hurt me that he would do anything to protect me, I don’t want him to sacrifice himself for me.

He has a whole family, a whole life, and so much more.

"I need you." The words spill from my lips with desperate urgency. My hands slide up his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath my fingertips. "Right now. Please, Reid."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating as understanding dawns. "Lily, you're hurt?—"

"I don't care," I interrupt, pressing my body flush against his. "I need to feel you. All of you. Everywhere." My voice drops to a ragged whisper. "I need you to make me yours again."

Something primal flashes across his face. In one swift movement, he shuts off the water and lifts me against him, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. His mouth claims mine in a bruising kiss as he carries me from the shower, not bothering with towels.

"Mine," he growls against my throat, setting me on the bed. Water drips from our bodies onto the comforter, but neither of us cares. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wide as he kneels between them. "Every. Fucking. Inch."

His eyes never leave mine as he pushes forward, entering me with one powerful thrust that steals my breath. The sudden fullness is exactly what I need—the physical reminder that we're both alive, both here.

"Yes," I gasp, my head falling back as he sets a punishing rhythm. "Make me feel you everywhere."

Reid's hand tangles in my wet hair, tugging my head back to expose my throat to his mouth. His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin, marking me, claiming me.

"You feel that?" he demands, his voice rough with possession. "Feel how perfectly you take me? How your body was made for mine?"

"Yes," I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure builds with shocking intensity. "Only yours. Always yours."

He pulls back suddenly, leaving me bereft and aching before flipping me onto my stomach. One strong arm wraps around my waist, lifting my hips as he drives into me from behind, deeper than before.

"I'm going to fuck every thought from your head," he promises darkly, his chest pressed against my back, his lips at my ear. "Until you can't remember anything but my name. Until you can't feel anything but me inside you, all over you, claiming every part of you."

His words, filthy and possessive, send heat spiraling through me. One of his hands slides beneath me to find the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs.

"That's it," he encourages as I begin to tremble beneath him. "Give it to me. Show me who you belong to."

The orgasm crashes through me with stunning force, drawing a cry from my throat that Reid captures with his mouth as he covers my body completely with his. He swallows my sounds, his rhythm never faltering as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me.

“Mine," he growls one final time as his own release claims him, his powerful body shuddering above mine as he finds his completion with a deep groan. For several heartbeats, we remain locked together, his weight a comforting pressure pinning me to the mattress.

When he finally rolls to his side, drawing me against his chest, I feel utterly boneless, completely sated. The fear and panic from earlier have been replaced by a deep, drowsy contentment that makes my eyelids heavy.

"Sleep," Reid murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You're safe. I've got you."

I nestle closer, my body fitting perfectly against his like puzzle pieces designed for each other. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear soothes me toward unconsciousness.

"Love you," I whisper, already drifting.

"More than my life," he says, his arms tightening around me.

I sink into darkness, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, his protection.

The room is dim with evening shadows, and Reid is no longer beside me. I stretch languidly, wincing as my bruised muscles protest. Clean clothes have been laid out at the foot of the bed, soft leggings and an oversized sweatshirt that smells faintly of Reid.

As I dress, I hear voices downstairs—male, urgent, angry. Though muffled by the floor, the tension in their tones is unmistakable. Something's happening.

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