Page 74 of Twisted Steel

“Yeah,” he growls.“Say my name.Let me hear it.”

I do.I say it when he drives deeper.When his hand slides between us and finds my clit.When the pressure builds again, hotter this time, wetter, dirtier, my body taking him like it was made for this.The room disappears.There’s no clubhouse.

No war.

No blood.

No smoke.

Only Steel above me, inside me, around me.Only his voice telling me I’m beautiful, tight, perfect, his.Only my body believing every word.

“I don’t want you to stop,” I gasp.

His rhythm breaks, and his gaze slams into mine, and whatever control he has left turns dangerous.“No?”

“Dear God, no.”

He buries his face against my neck and drives deeper, harder, still holding enough back to keep me safe but not enough to hide how badly he wants me.The bed shifts beneath us, and my thighs tighten around his waist.His mouth finds the side of my throat, teeth grazing over my pulse.

“Come for me again,” he orders.“Come on my cock.”

I break at his words, hard.My orgasm tears through me with his name in my mouth, body clenching around him, nails scraping down his back.

That ruins him.

Steel follows with a rough groan, body locking over mine, hips buried deep as he comes.His arms stay braced beside my head, so his weight never crushes me, even in the middle of losing himself.Even then, some part of him is careful.

Protective.

Mine.

For a long time, neither of us moves.We breathe together in the dark, sweat cooling on our skin, his heart hammering against mine.Then he rolls carefully to the side and pulls me against him only after I reach for him first.The room smells like sweat, sex, and lingering smoke.

Outside, the clubhouse hums with war.Inside, Steel’s heart pounds under my cheek.I should regret this.I should be horrified by myself.By him.By how easily I crossed the line I swore I would keep bright and uncrossable.

Instead, I feel calm.Not safe exactly.But certain.

Steel’s fingers trace slow lines down my spine.“Are you okay?”

I lift my head.“You ask that now?”

His mouth almost curves.“Asked before too.”

“You did.”

“You didn’t answer.”

I study his face in the dim light.The scar.The hard eyes softened by exhaustion.The man who kills and waits.Who breaks bones and asks for words.Who came back because he said he would.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

His hand stills on my back before he nods once, as if the answer matters more than anything else tonight.I lay my head back down.

Outside these walls, Reaper is alive.Dante is alive.Other men are dead.War is coming.And I am in Steel’s bed with his arms around me, no longer pretending I don’t want the monster at my door.

I close my eyes.

For tonight, I let him hold me.For tonight, I stop running from the truth.Steel is violence, but he is also the man who came back.And God help me, I’m starting to understand why that matters more.