Page 60 of Echo: Line
We barely make it to my quarters.
The door slams shut and I press her against it, my mouth never leaving hers. Her back arches off the metal surface as my hands slide under her shirt, palms flattening against the smooth skin of her sides. She's all heat and curves and I can't get enough. Her fingers work at my belt with fumbling urgency while I tug her shirt over her head, breaking the kiss just long enough to drag the fabric away.
The sight of her stops me cold. Black bra, flushed skin, lips swollen from my mouth. Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.
"Bed," she breathes, and I lift her again. Her legs tighten around my waist as I carry her the few steps to the narrow cot.I lower us both down and she pulls me with her, our bodies tangling together on top of the rough blanket.
Clothes disappear in a desperate rush. Her hands push at my pants while I unhook her bra, the clasp giving way under my fingers. The fabric falls away and I forget how to breathe. My hands map her bare skin—the dip of her waist, the curve of her ribs, the soft weight of her breasts. She gasps when my thumbs brush over her nipples, her back bowing off the bed.
"Alex." My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a demand all at once.
Her fingers trace down my chest and I freeze. Not from desire—though there's plenty of that—but from the sudden awareness of what she's seeing. Every scar. Every mark. The puckered bullet wound in my shoulder. The raised line across my ribs where a knife came too close. The burns on my back, twisted skin that tells stories I've tried to forget.
"These," she whispers, fingertips ghosting over the bullet scar.
Her touch is feather-light, reverent. She traces the path of old damage with careful precision, moving from my shoulder to the knife scar across my ribs, then reaching around to feel the twisted skin on my back. Mapping each wound like it matters. Like I matter.
"Beautiful."
The word doesn't make sense. "You're insane."
"Maybe." But her voice cracks with emotion. She leans down, pressing her lips to the bullet scar, then the knife wound, then trailing kisses across each damaged piece of me. "But I mean it."
Something in me breaks open. Some final defense I didn't even know I was holding. I pull her mouth back to mine and kiss her with everything I've been holding back. All the fear and need and desperation.
She responds with equal intensity. Her nails rake down my back—carefully avoiding the burns—and I groan into her mouth. Her hips rock against mine and I'm suddenly desperate to feel her, all of her, nothing between us.
"Delaney." Her name comes out rough. Wrecked.
"Yes." Not a question. Permission and demand all at once.
I roll us so she's beneath me, settling between her thighs. The heat of her against me nearly undoes me right there. She reaches between us, her hand wrapping around me, guiding me to where she's already slick and ready.
The first press inside steals my breath. She's tight and hot and perfect, her body yielding to mine inch by inch. Her head falls back, throat exposed, a low moan escaping as I sink deeper. I freeze, giving her time to adjust, every muscle locked as I fight for control.
"Move," she breathes, her legs wrapping around my hips, heels digging into my ass. "Alex, please?—"
I move. Slow at first, each thrust deliberate, watching her face as pleasure washes over her features. Her eyes flutter closed and I lean down, catching her mouth in a kiss as I pick up the pace. She meets me thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take me deeper, nails scoring my shoulders.
The pain from my ribs registers somewhere distant but I don't care. Nothing matters except the way she feels wrapped around me, the sounds she's making, the way my name falls from her lips like a benediction.
"Look at me." The words come out as a command and her eyes snap open, locking with mine. The connection hits me like a physical blow—not just our bodies joined but something deeper. Something that terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure.
Her breath hitches and I feel her tighten around me. "Alex, I'm?—"
"I know. Let go. I've got you."
She shatters beneath me, her body clenching around mine, my name a broken cry on her lips. The sight and sound and feel of her coming undone destroys me. I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck as release crashes through me with devastating force.
For long moments we just breathe. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my back. My weight is probably crushing her but she doesn't complain, just holds me close like she's afraid I'll disappear.
Eventually I roll to the side, gathering her against my chest despite my protesting ribs. My fingers trace patterns on her skin. Mapping every curve. Every line. Memorizing the feeling of her in my arms.
"Still here?" I ask quietly.
"Still here," she confirms. Her hand rests over my heart.
"Good." I tighten my arms around her. "Because I don't think I could let you go now even if I wanted to."
