She looks up. Her dark eyes are wide. The amber and musk saturate the freezing air. The collar of the flannel gapes. The frantic tension in her jaw catches the dim light.
My hand moves before my brain issues the command.
My fingers wrap around her neck. My thumb settles on the hollow beneath her jaw.
Not a measurement. A claim.
The eight years of agonizing static vanish. There is only the damp concrete of the vault, the dead air where the servers used to hum, and the scalding heat of her skin under my palm.
She does not pull away. She leans into the grip.
"Stay with me," I murmur. The words tear out of my throat. Rough.
"We almost died." Her voice is a breathless whisper. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. The soft swell of her breasts pushes against the flannel. Pushes directly against my chest.
"No." My thumb strokes the sensitive skin over her collarbone. "I would have ripped this place apart system by system before I let the air run out."
She stares at me. The sarcasm and the weaponized defiance dissolve. The armor drops. The raw, unfiltered reality of what is happening between us floods the narrow space. The forced proximity is no longer a tactical reality. It is a prison I am choosing to lock myself inside, and she is not reaching for the door.
My grip shifts. My fingers slide up her jaw. My palm cups her cheek. The softness of her skin is a violent contrast to the calluses on my hands. I trace the line of her cheekbone. I map the shape of her lower lip with my thumb.
Her lips part. A soft, tiny sound escapes her throat.
The sound snaps the last remaining wire of my control.
I crush my mouth down on hers.
The impact is bruising. Desperate. Eight years of absolute untouchable silence pouring into a single violent collision. My lips devour hers. I force her mouth open. My tongue sweeps inside, tasting the sweet, hot frantic flavor of her. She tastes like panic and sugar and absolute surrender.
She gasps into my mouth. Her hands fly up. Her fingers grip the heavy tactical fabric of my shirt. She anchors herself to me.
My arm wraps around her waist. I yank her forward. I haul her flush against my body. The impact knocks a moan out of her. The soft, yielding curves of her thighs mold against the rigid, hardened lines of my legs. My heavy erection presses directly into the cradle of her hips.
The friction is absolute agony.
I kiss her until the world outside the vault ceases to exist. I consume her mouth. I bite her lower lip, pulling the soft flesh between my teeth, tasting the faint metallic tang of copper. I soothe the bite with my tongue. She anchors herself to me. Her fingers fist in my shirt, pressing the gold cross pendant flat against the black cotton over my chest.
"Mine," I rasp against her lips. The word is not a thought. It is a primal law.
"Vincenzo." She breathes my name. It is a plea. It is a demand.
I back her up. Two steps. Her shoulders hit the metal casing of the Bellanti server rack. The cold steel is at her back. I am everywhere else.
I drop my mouth to her neck. I drag my teeth along the sensitive column of her throat. She tips her head back. The amber scent is intoxicating. I lick the salt from her skin. I bite the soft curve where her neck meets her shoulder. A harsh, wet mark. Claiming her. Branding her in the dark.
My hands drop to her hips. I grip the worn flannel. I fist the material and haul it up. The shirt bunches around her ribs.
Her stomach is bare. Her skin is smooth and hot. The muscles quiver under my palms. I drag my rough hands up her ribs. Her breath hitches. The sound is a sharp, jagged spike in the quiet vault.
Under the sweater, she is wearing a thin lace bra. Nothing else.
My thumbs hook the delicate lace. I push the fabric up. Her breasts spill free. Heavy. Perfect. The nipples are tight, hard peaks begging for friction.
I cover them with my hands. I squeeze the soft flesh. The weight of her tits fills my palms. I roll the tight nipples between my thumbs and forefingers.
She cries out. Her back arches off the server rack. She pushes her chest into my hands.
I drop my head. I take one tight peak into my mouth. I suck hard. I pull the sensitive flesh deep between my lips, swirling my tongue over the agonizingly tight nub.
