Page 88 of Brass
She rises on her toes, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that melts my carefully built defenses. Her mouth is warm, insistent,saying everything words can’t. Need. Want. Connection beyond the physical.
I respond without thinking, arm circling her waist to pull her close. For this moment, I allow myself to forget protocols, discipline, and everything but the woman in my arms and the undeniable fact that she has become the single most important element in my universe.
When we break apart, both breathing harder, I rest my forehead against hers.
“If anything happens to you…” I begin.
She leans closer, her lips brushing my ear. “Order me to my knees,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of nervous excitement and desire. “Show me more of what you like.”
Heat surges through me, my body responding instantly to her words. This is what I want. To push her further and see just how completely she can surrender. The fact that she’s asking for it, here and now, sends satisfaction coursing through my veins.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, finding them dark with anticipation. This isn’t just about physical release. This is about trust—her giving it, me earning it.
“On your knees.”
THIRTY
Ryan
Dawn creepsthrough the cabin’s small windows, painting stripes across the bed where Celeste sleeps. I’ve been up for an hour already, perimeter checked, coffee brewing on the small propane stove. My body should be exhausted, but I’m wired, alert—riding the high that comes from a night I didn’t expect and won’t soon forget.
Last night with Celeste was—transformative. The way she responded to my commands, how she surrendered so completely while never losing that core of strength that makes her who she is.
I discovered sides of her I’d only glimpsed before—her willingness to push boundaries, her trust in me to guide her through new experiences. And Christ, the way she feels in my arms, like she was made to be there.
I shake my head, refocusing. Those thoughts need to be compartmentalized.
Now.
The coffee smells ready, and Ghost’s ETA is less than two hours out.
Celeste emerges from the bed, wrapped in one of Ghost’s spare T-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh on her smaller frame. Her newly auburn hair is tousled from sleep andotheractivities, her eyes still soft with drowsiness. The sight of her—relaxed, vulnerable in a way she rarely allows herself to be—catches me off guard all over again.
“Morning,” she says, voice rough from sleep.
“Coffee’s ready,” I reply, pouring her a mug. “Sleep well?”
A slow smile spreads across her face, one eyebrow arching. “What little sleep I got was—adequate.”
I can’t help but return her smile. Even here, even now, with everything hanging over our heads, she maintains that spark. That defiance that drew me to her in the first place.
“Ghost’s ETA is two hours,” I say, handing her the mug. “Guardian HRS is with him.”
She nods, taking a sip. “Tell me more about them. These Guardians.”
“Guardian HRS—Hostage Rescue Specialists,” I explain, handing her the mug. “Elite outfit, best in the business. Started as human trafficking specialists, but they’ve expanded to all forms of hostage situations.”
She nods, taking a sip. “I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”
“Founded by Forest Summers and his sister Skye. Forest is a genius with a mind that’s incomparable. They’ve built something special—a private organization with government reach.” I lean against the counter. “Most of their operatives are also sworn US Marshals, which gives them legal cover for the kinds of operations that would land anyone else in prison.”
“And they’re off Phoenix’s radar?”
“They maintain a separate operational infrastructure. Their tech division is one of the best on the planet—paranoid about security in ways that make even Ghost seem relaxed.” I check the time again. “They worked with us on Willow’s extraction,provided tech and tactical support. Ghost trusts them, and he doesn’t trust many people.”
“And these specialists he’s bringing?”
“Stitch and Jeb.” I smile slightly at her questioning look. “Stitch is their cyber expert. Best hacker I’ve ever met who isn’t in federal prison. Funny thing about that—she was actually headed to federal prison. Got caught hacking into the NSA, but Guardian HRS recruited her to work in their tech division as ‘time served.’ She’s brilliant, unpredictable, and loves her Goth vibe. Hackers…” I shrug. “Always gotta be different.”
