Page 75 of Tag
I stepped in front of Aponi, shielding her from the screen, even though I knew it was too late. Her face had gone pale. Her hands clenched at her sides.
“He’s not touching you,” I said firmly. “Not ever again.”
She looked up at me, eyes shining but fierce. “I’m not scared for me.”
I leaned in, voice low. “Then let me be scared for you.”
Her mouth parted slightly at that, but she didn’t say anything—just nodded once.
Faron cleared his throat. “One more thing. There’s a name buried in the metadata. The girl couldn’t have known. It’s a codeword Graves kept referencing—Chimera.We’re pulling everything we can. But this might not be over.”
I exhaled slowly. “No. It’s just beginning.”
We left the ops room in silence. Aponi walked with me down the hall, her shoulders tight with tension, her face unreadable. When we got to her room, she stopped.
“Stay?” she asked.
That one word hit harder than a bullet.
I stepped inside, shut the door behind us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, we let the world fall away.
She turned to face me, her fingers brushing the hem of my shirt. “I don’t want to be strong tonight,” she whispered. “I just want to feel something real.”
I cupped her face, searching her eyes. “Then let me give you that.”
Her mouth met mine, soft but urgent, and I backed her slowly toward the bed, our bodies colliding like fire meeting gasoline.
Her lips tasted like resolve breaking, like fear melting into heat. I kissed her deeper, slower, my hands sliding to her hips as she gripped my shirt like she needed me to hold her together.
I didn’t rush her. Didn’t push.
I let her take.
She backed toward the bed, drawing me with her, her fingers tugging my shirt up, baring inch after inch of skin. When it hit the floor, she touched me like she’d never touched anyone before—like she needed to memorize every scar, every muscle, every breath.
“Aponi…” I whispered her name like a prayer, my forehead resting against hers. “You sure?”
Her eyes met mine, fire and vulnerability mingling. “I don’t want to be afraid of losing people anymore. I want this. With you. Right now.”
That was all I needed.
My hands slid under her shirt, palms gliding along warm, smooth skin. I kissed the side of her throat, heard the hitch in her breath. She lifted her arms, and I peeled the shirt over her head, revealing soft curves and strength beneath.
I stared at her, every inch of her, and shook my head. “You’re so damn beautiful, you ruin me.”
She smiled—shy, but sure. “Then let’s be ruined together.”
I lifted her, and laid her down gently, reverently. We shed the rest of the space between us like armor, piece by piece, until nothing was left but skin and heat and the weight of everything we hadn’t said.
When I sank into her, we both exhaled like we’d been drowning.
Her fingers dug into my back, her legs wrapping around my waist, urging me deeper, closer, until there was no space left between us—only motion and breath and raw, aching need.
We moved in a rhythm that belonged only to us—slow, then wild, then slow again—each kiss a promise, each touch an anchor. She whispered my name like it meant something sacred, and I held her like she was my last chance to make the world right.
When we broke together, it was quiet—just her gasp in my ear, my name on her lips, and the pounding of two hearts finding home.
I stayed there, wrapped around her, my body still pressed to hers, her breath soft against my neck.
