Page 234 of Override

My mind tries to throw up one last warning. A notification about the clock. The team. The mission.

I mute it. The four minutes are gone. Twenty minutes are gone. They can wait for me in the van.

I slide one hand down her side, my thumb hooking into the waistband of the shorts she's wearing under my shirt, pulling them down her legs with single-minded purpose. She lifts her hips for me automatically, helping me kick them off the edge of the bed until there is nothing left between my hands and her skin.

I frame her face with my hands, my thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

"Look at me, Maeve."

She opens her eyes, dark and entirely open, staring straight into mine through the black frames of my glasses.

"Tell me you want this," I say, my voice steady, demanding every drop of her certainty.

She gasps, her hips arching up off the mattress, pressing her core against the heavy denim of my pants. "I want you, Keaton. All of you. Please."

That explicit consent snaps the last thread of my restraint.

My hands move fast, precise and unyielding, unbuckling my belt and clearing away my pants. I don't break eye contact for a single second. I need her to see the exact moment I lose control. I need her to know that no matter how organized my mind usually is, she is the only thing capable of completely undoing me.

I settle between her thighs, the heat radiating off her skin overwhelming my senses. I press myself against her entrance, wet and slick and perfectly ready for me, and pause just long enough to let her feel the full size and weight of what she's asking for.

"Tell me you're ready for me, Maeve," I murmur, lowering my mouth until my lips are brushing hers.

"I hate that you're leaving," she whispers, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her hips tilting up into mine. "But watching you in all this gear... I'm losing my mind, Keaton. Don't make me wait."

I push forward, slowly, deliberately sinking all the way into her until my hips lock against hers.

A sharp, breathless sound tears out of her throat, her body stretching around me, enveloping me completely. My brain doesn't just go quiet—it utterly shatters. Every data point, every mission parameter, every calculation vanishes, replaced entirely by the tight, incredible feeling of her wrapped around me.

I drop my forehead against hers, my breathing ragged as I hold myself still inside her, letting her adjust to the depth.

"You have all of me," I whisper into the dark room, my hands sliding down to lift her hips, setting the slow, deep rhythm that's going to ruin us both. "Every single piece."

****

By the time I climb into the surveillance van, I'm twenty-three minutes late.

Nobody says anything while I drop my bag beside my seat.

Matt pulls away from the curb. Bullet checks the live drone feed.

Wheels watches me for another few seconds before shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see it."

"What?"

"You late."

"I am twenty-three minutes late."

"Exactly." He leans back. "I figured the apocalypse would've started first."

Nobody says anything after that. There isn't really anything left to say. The mission replaces the conversation as naturally as breathing.

Bullet enlarges the drone feed over the warehouse while Matt reviews the approach one final time. Wheels scrolls through the city's traffic cameras, looking for anything out of place before we arrive.

I open my laptop. The mission files fill one monitor. The apartment fills the other.

Four cameras. Front entrance. Hallway. Front door. Elevator. Parking lot. Exactly as I left them.