Page 193 of Silent Shadows

I smirk and push him off me.

“What—” Miles looks confused and like he’s dying for more.

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” I say, getting on all fours, fingers digging into the mud and sand.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Daisy,” he rasps. I turn back to see him fisting his cock as his eyes take me in. I sway my ass at him, feeling my release drip down my leg. He prowls forward on his knees, stopping to lick my thigh, and I shiver. Then he lines himself up, running his tip through me before pressing in.

A low growl slips from him as his hands grip my hips. He picks up his pace, slamming into me as I cry out.

“Fuck, Daisy,” he rasps. “You take me so good. I want another one from you. Come again for me.”

This man. I fucking whimper, letting my arms fall forward, my chest on the sandstone, so my ass is arched up in the air. The friction on my nipples sends me spinning higher, and the sounds coming from me can only be described as animalistic.

A strong arm bands under me, and he lifts me back so I’m sitting in his lap. His other hand finds my clit and starts rubbing small, slow circles. My head rolls back onto his shoulder. I’m boneless in his arms, at his mercy, and I feel truly free. I reach back to wrap my arms around his neck, and turn my head to kiss him. It’s messy, and raw, and so fucking hot.

“Choke me,” I breathe, and Miles does just that, moving his hand up to hold me at the base of my neck. He pounds into me from behind, roughly whispering curses and praise in my ear.

“You’re mine. I’m never letting you go,” he rasps, and those words tip me over the edge for the second time. I scream out and he shudders, his release filling me moments after. I can feel him dripping from me, mixing with my wetness from earlier, and my heart squeezes. His hand is still on my clit, playing with the wet sticky mess as he eases himself out of me. Like last time, he pushes our release back in with his fingers. I shiver, turning in his arms to kiss him. He wraps his body around me, heat pouring off our skin in the cool desert air. He kisses me deeply, hands massaging my back.

Leave it to Miles Adler to unlock a part of me I didn't even know I was starving for.

It's not because the sex is hot and primal. It's because he's so impossibly steady. Miles never performs. Never postures. Never asks me to be anyone other than exactly who I am. He looks at me with this quiet openness, like I don’t need to prove anything, don’t need to hide. And against all odds, I’m starting to believe him.

The irony isn't lost on me. The man who color-codes field notes and triple-checks trail maps is the one who makes me want to stop overthinking and start listening to my body rather than my brain. Just stripping away everything that isn't true until all that's left is instinct.

Despite our completely opposite personalities, Miles and I speak the same strange language. He sees my armor—the protective parts that run loud and scared, overperforming and overthinking—and instead of stepping back, he just… stays. Because he sees the chaos, strangeness, freedom, and hope underneath it all, he makes it feel safe to come out.

I think I do the same for him.

I see the ache in him as clearly as I see the hope. I see the fear that caring this much might make him foolish. I see how grief and belief tangled together somewhere along the line until he no longer knew where one ended and the other began.

Nothing about us should feel this familiar. We barely make sense on paper. But being near him feels like exhaling. Like I found something I never knew was missing.

He has me tucked into his chest, cozy and protected, our clothes still scattered across sandstone.

I look up at him. “I know it’s crazy, but… you know I love you, right?” I whisper.

He stares down at me, eyes wide in surprise.

“I wanted to believe it, but it felt too quick to be true.”

“Better believe it, Adler.” I wink.

He smiles softly, knowing I’m deflecting. He brushes my hair back, then kisses my forehead for one long, tender moment.

“I love you too, Daisy.”

chapter

twenty-seven

DAISY

I wake to the sound of Miles breathing. Slow and even, close enough that I feel each exhale move through my hair.

For a few seconds, I don’t open my eyes. I stay exactly where I am, tucked into the narrow dark of his bunk, my arm folded between us, my cheek pressed against the warm solidness of his chest. The curtain is half-drawn, letting in a thin blade of morning light that cuts across the room and gleams off of the shelf above us.

This bunk is still ridiculous. It’s too small, too hard along the edges, too low overhead. My hip is pressed against the wall. One of my feet has gone numb. Miles’s knee is wedged against mine at an angle that would make an orthopedic surgeon weep.