Page 49 of Echo: Burn
"Like I wanted you?" She sets her coffee down. "I did want you. Still do. That doesn't change because someone photographed it."
"It changes everything." My hand tightens on the mug hard enough I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. "Whoever it is violated something private. Turned intimacy into intelligence."
"So we don't let them win." She moves closer until she's standing between me and the screens. "We don't give them power by being afraid."
I set the coffee aside carefully. Too carefully. "I'm not afraid."
"Then what are you?"
"Furious." The word comes out low. Dangerous. "Someone looked at you and thought you were something they could hunt. Something they could use against me. And every tactical instinct I have is screaming at me to eliminate that threat."
Her breath catches. "How?"
"By making absolutely certain they understand you're not their target." I step closer, backing her against the console. Not threatening. But deliberate. Claiming space. "You're mine, Willa. And I protect what's mine."
Heat and challenge flash in her eyes. "Yours?"
"Mine." I brace my hands on either side of her, caging her in. "You saved that dog when you should have walked away. You refused to run when running was smart. You stood beside me when tactical analysis said you'd be safer anywhere else. That makes you mine. Whether you like it or not."
She should push back. Should tell me possessive isn't romantic.
Instead, her hand fists in my shirt, pulling me closer. "Prove it."
The last thread of control snaps.
My mouth crashes into hers. Hard. Demanding. My teeth catch her bottom lip and she gasps, opening for me. I take advantage, tongue sweeping in to claim every inch. The kiss from last night was exploration—this is conquest. My hand fists in her hair, angling her head exactly where I want it while the other grips her hip hard enough to bruise. She tastes like the coffee she just drank, but underneath there's something sharper—the adrenaline still coursing through both of us, the defiancethat made her demand I prove myself. I can't get enough. Can't get close enough. My chest is heaving like I've run a tactical mile and all I'm doing is kissing her, but it feels like the only thing standing between me and complete loss of control.
Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, matching my intensity. This isn't making love. This is claiming. Possessing. Making absolutely certain that whoever's watching understands she belongs to me.
I lift her onto the console, equipment rattling as I make space. She braces her hands on the metal surface while I step between her thighs, forcing them wider. The shirt rides up with the movement and I get my first real look—nothing underneath. No underwear. No barrier. Just her, ready, the evidence of her arousal visible even in the harsh emergency lighting. My breath stops in my chest. Blood rushes south so fast I feel lightheaded. My hands shake as I grip her thighs, feeling the muscle tense under my palms.
"Kane." My name comes out breathless. "Someone could walk in."
"Let them." I slide my hands up her thighs, watching her eyes go dark. "Let everyone know exactly who you belong to."
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against her. I can feel her heat through my tactical pants and it's driving me insane.
"Anyone could see the cameras," she manages, even as her hips roll against me.
"I don't care." My mouth finds her throat, teeth scraping skin. "Let them watch. Let them all see you're mine."
My hands grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough that I feel her skin compress under my palms. She gasps, back arching. I don't ease up. My thumbs press into the hollows of her hip bones while my fingers span across to the small of her back, holding her exactly where I needher. Tomorrow there will be bruises—perfect impressions of each finger in purple and blue. The thought sends a savage satisfaction through me. Everyone who sees them will know someone claimed her. That she belongs to someone who won't let go.
"We should go to your quarters," she says, but her hands are already working my belt.
"No." I catch her wrists, pin them behind her back with one hand. "Here. Now. I need you now."
Her eyes widen, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of color remains. Her lips part on an inhale that catches in her throat. For a second she goes absolutely still, every muscle locked—and then her thighs tighten around my hips, pulling me closer instead of pushing away. Her pulse hammers visibly at the base of her throat, racing, but when her tongue darts out to wet her lips, it's not fear I'm seeing. Her hips roll forward against me, a deliberate invitation that sends fire straight down my spine.
"Please," she whispers.
That one word destroys me.
I release her wrists. My hands drop to my belt, yanking it free with movements that lack any finesse. The tactical pants hit the floor and I kick them aside. The seconds apart feel like hours, but then I'm back, positioning myself. I grip her hips, pulling her to the edge of the console. The head of my cock presses against her entrance and the contact makes every muscle in my body lock. She's slick with arousal, heat radiating through me at just this first touch. A sound tears from my throat—rough, possessive, barely human.
"Last chance to stop this," I tell her, even though stopping would kill me.
"Don't you dare." Her nails dig into my shoulders. "I want this. Want you. Want everyone to know I'm yours."
