Page 67 of Hard Check

Somehow, we made it to the bedroom without falling over the coffee table. I yanked off his jacket, tossed it toward the laundry basket, and missed. He peeled off my shirt with a wet smack, then made a face.

"What the hell? You sleep in tactical cotton?"

"It's a thermal. It's warm."

"It's oppressive." He kissed my chest anyway. "Take it off, or I'll tear it off."

I took it off. Fast.

We were a mess of limbs on the bed, trying to get out of damp clothes and into each other's space at the same time. I elbowed him in the ribs at one point, and he hissed, "Ow," right before yanking me down into a kiss that smothered the apology in my throat.

There was nothing choreographed about it. At first, I didn't know where to put my hands—his shoulder? His waist? His face? Everywhere felt right, so I tried all of it.

He made a sound when I slid my hand under the waistband of his briefs, something between a gasp and a laugh, and said, "Okay, yeah, definitely not done figuring this out."

"Should I stop?"

"Do youthink I want you to stop?"

That made me smile—really smile—for the first time in days.

We moved together like people who knew the stakes and knew the clock was running down but didn't care. He pulled me in like he wanted to memorize the weight of me.

It wasn't perfect. Our teeth knocked once. I couldn't find the lube immediately and ended up fishing for it in the drawer like I was playing a game show challenge.

Then, when I finally touched him, and I thrust into him, wearing a condom, for the very first time, it nearly overwhelmed both of us. His mouth went slack, and he whispered, "Fuck." To me, it sounded like a prayer.

We didn't speak much once we found our rhythm—only breath, motion, and the way Pike kept whispering my name. His legs were tight around my hips, heels hooked behind me.

I'd slowed down to hold the edge there and draw it out, but he pulled me back in with a groan so full of need that it made my legs shudder.

I gripped his cock, my fingers wrapping tight, and pressed my forehead to his. His skin was slick with sweat, flushed in the low light. Every nerve in my body lit up.

"Carver," he gasped.

I pushed in deeper, slower, and the little whimpers… fuck, they undid me. He arched up, meeting me, and I felt it—his whole body tightened, and his legs began to shake. We were close, both of us, teetering.

"Look at me."

He did

His eyes were wide and glassy, pupils dilated, mouth slack. He looked wrecked—in the best way. Wrecked and radiant and mine.

There was a silent beat before his body jerked and his back arched, and he let go with a cry he tried to muffle against my neck. I held him through it.

I didn't last long after that.

It took three more thrusts. Maybe two. His name spilled out of me in a ragged breath, not because I meant to say it but because there was nowhere else for it to go. My body locked up, the orgasm tearing through me hard and fast.

I collapsed onto him, not all at once, carefully, breathing hard into the crook of his neck. Pike wrapped his arms around my back and held me tight like he didn't care how much weight I dropped onto him.

For a while, the only sounds were the wind outside and the thump of our hearts against each other's chests.

When I finally lifted my head, he was watching me. Dazed. Smiling.

"I can't believe I almost walked away," he murmured.

"You still can," I said. My voice cracked on the second word.

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