Damon tried to sit still as Greyson finished digging into his wound with a needle in the Mercenary headquarter house. He sat at the table in what used to be the kitchen, his shirt off and his shoulder on fire. Now, both shoulders had wounds, damn it. “You are the worst at this,” he muttered, reaching for another shot of Jack Daniels and taking it quickly.

“You told me not to get the doctor,” Grey reminded him, finishing with a bandage.

Maureen sat on another chair, watching her hands in her lap instead of the minor surgery. “Are you guys done yet?”

“Yes,” Greyson said. “He’s good as new. You can look and probably won’t puke now.”

Moe looked up, her blue eyes sparkling. “You have matching bandages. How symmetrical.”

Damon grinned. The spunky food expert was one of his favorite people in the world. The fact that she made Greyson Storm actually smile and laugh once in a while was just a bonus. “It is important to match.”

Moe pushed her dark hair away from her face. “What’s up with you and April?”

“We’re just working together,” Damon said, taking another shot of Jack to dull the pain. “After tonight, I realized that trying for anything else is crazy.” He paused. “Though not for you two. I mean, you’re fine.”

Grey snorted. “Smooth. Very smooth.”

Well, they were having a baby, so they had no choice but to be fine. Damon poured both himself and Greyson another shot of booze. “My job is always going to be kicking down the door, and as we just found out, Rippers are going to be waiting. At some point, I’m getting the bacteria.” And if his family’s survival rate of zero were any indication, he wouldn’t survive. He couldn’t do that to April, even if she were game. Which she probably wasn’t. “So, this is what it is.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “You’re kind of a moron.”

Grey lifted his glass. “To morons.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Damon tipped back another shot. The pain was finally numbing in his body, and his head was getting a bit cloudy. Shit, it was hot in the old house. “When is summer over?”

“We’re mid-July, buddy,” Greyson said.

Damon shook his head and tried to concentrate. “We should have a meeting about resources. We have to be getting down there, considering we didn’t arrive with very much.” They’d only been able to save a small amount of supplies before the fires took everything. It had been fairly decent of Jax Mercury to let them in the Vanguard gates.

“That’s on the agenda,” Greyson said, pouring more shots. He winked at Maureen and then turned back to Damon. “The pain any better?”

It was a hell of a lot better, actually. “Yeah.” Damon took the final drink and stood, not needing a bigger hint. The two definitely wanted to be alone. Maybe he’d go and check on April—just to make sure her day went all right. And since he no longer felt any pain, maybe it’d be a good time to fight about the smack to her ass earlier. Just in case she kicked him in the balls. “See you guys later.”

They were already making kissing noises by the time he cleared the front door.

The night was unbearably hot, and he missed the beach. The sound of the ocean had become almost necessary to sleep, and the cool breeze off the Pacific at night hadn’t hurt. He nodded to patrolling soldiers and kept walking, thinking about the fight at the house.

A Ripper had nearly bitten him. Should he tell April about that or not?

He reached her apartment and saw a light on in the kitchen. Since it was well after midnight, he’d expected darkness. He moved to the door and knocked lightly.

She opened it, dressed in tiny shorts and a tank top.

His body flared wide-awake and alive a second before he caught her expression. “What happened?” he moved toward her, and she met him halfway, her face against his chest.

“Lost a teenage girl,” she said, her voice muffled and her tears wetting his skin. “Scorpius.”

He closed his eyes and let the hurt settle in his gut. “Ah, baby. I’m so sorry.” He ran a hand through her long hair, surprised again by its softness. “Was she bitten while scouting?”

“No.” April shook her head and leaned back enough to see his face. “We think it was sex. Probably. Doc Penelope has the girl back at the trauma center.”

Sex? Ah, man. “The kids know better,” he muttered. “No condom?”

“We don’t know yet,” she said, wiping her cheek with one hand. “Jax went to talk to the boy.”

Damon winced. That talk would be terrible. He focused on the pretty brunette in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

She swallowed. “Me, too.”

He wiped the rest of her tears away and gave her a gentle kiss on her pert nose. She stilled. He kissed her cheeks, offering comfort. Man, her skin was soft and cool. For some reason, he was still burning up from the fight earlier. Damn adrenaline.

She made a sound, one of acceptance, and planted her hands on his upper chest.

Whoa. His body burned hotter, and her scent of woman and sweet roses sank beneath his skin. The alcohol in his bloodstream spurred him to act. No. Definitely no. Slow down. This was for comfort only. His cock perked right up. Bastard. This was not a time for sex.

She stretched up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. She tasted like sweetness and bourbon.

He stopped breathing. A Ripper could come through the door, and he probably wouldn’t move. Tension cascaded down his arms, tightening each muscle. The need to grab her and deepen the kiss nearly killed him.

But this was for comfort.

When he regained control, he caressed her back, trying to offer reassurance. His hand dipped in, and he spanned her entire lower back. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

She bit his bottom lip.

He sucked in air. His dick shot to full awareness against her softness. “What are you doing?”

She looked up, her eyes a deep midnight hue with pain and need. “Kissing you. This night, Damon. Let’s feel something good.”

Jesus. Saying no was going to destroy him. But she was hurting, and he was buzzed, and the adrenaline heating him wouldn’t calm. “Not a good idea.” Yet he couldn’t push her away.

“One kiss.” Her gaze, stark and unguarded, dropped to his mouth. “One real kiss.”

His head was moving down before his brain had even registered what was happening.

Finally, he kissed her. Maybe it was because of the soft way she’d asked. Or perhaps it was from the adrenaline cutting him. Or maybe it was because of the lust he was tired of hiding from her.

Finally, the iron grip on his control snapped. He took her mouth hard, finally tasting those full lips. His tongue thrust inside, and the taste of her—the real taste of woman and bourbon—nearly drove him to his knees.

* * *

When Damon’s mouth finally took hers, the entire world settled. Finally. The desire in his kiss, the promise of more took her out of the pain to just feel something good. To escape reality and delve into passion.

His tongue stroked inside her mouth, and his hand pressed against her lower back. So much strength and power in one small move. She lifted up on her toes, kissing him back with everything she had. The need between them exploded with an electricity she hadn’t imagined.

He backed her up, and her butt hit the edge of the table. She didn’t care. Closer. She needed to get closer to him. Her abdomen cushioned the impossibly hard ridge of his penis, and at the thought, she gave up any pretense of doubt.

She wanted this. And she wanted him. If just to get away from the world for a while. Just to feel.

He grasped the hem of her tank top, his long fingers brushing against the bare skin of her abdomen. Her stomach rippled, and heat exploded through her nerves. “Please, Damon,” she murmured against his lips before he kissed her harder, making speech impossible.

His body shuddered, and the fight within him played out against her skin.

She slid her hands beneath his shirt and moaned at the feeling of ripped muscle. How was he even possible? She traced the ridges of his abdomen and frantically caressed up to the hard planes of his chest. Really hard.

“Wait.” He tore his mouth away. “How much have you had to drink?” The words sounded strained.

“Not much,” she lied. He tasted like whiskey, too. Who the hell cared? “I want this.” Which was the absolute truth. Then she tugged, and he had to drop his head to let her yank off his shirt. Twin bandages covered both his shoulders.

A bullet hole scar marred his right pec. She traced it and then looked closer. Smaller scars, many old, showed in various places on his dark skin. Her cop had led a dangerous life. She leaned in and kissed the healed bullet wound.

He sucked in a breath.

Then he lost the fight.

Grabbing her hair, he lifted her up to his mouth again. He yanked off her tank top and tossed it somewhere. Then his talented fingers found her bare breasts. He bent his head, and his mouth closed over a nipple.

Ecstasy took her, and her knees gave out.

He caught her with an arm around her waist. His tongue stroked her. With an abrupt movement, he lifted her against him, and his mouth crashed down on hers. It took her a second to realize that they were moving toward the bedroom. When they reached the bed, he paused and looked down at her. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He set her down and tugged off her shorts. “You want fast or slow?” The tone of his voice was low and guttural.

The sound washed over her skin, and she shivered. “Fast.” God, fast. And hard and deep.

He shoved down his jeans, giving her the first look at his erect penis. The guy was huge…and ready to go.

She gingerly reached out and ran her finger along the impressive length of him.

“Later.” He shuddered and pushed her back, a condom in his hand.

Later worked for her. She scooted up on the bed, enjoying the graceful way he climbed up her. He was so big above her, he blocked out the moonlight streaming through the window. “Damon.” Her hand shook, and she cupped his angled cheekbone. His five o’clock shadow scratched her palm.

He paused, his dark eyes boring into her. “I want to taste you.”

She shivered. He didn’t mean her mouth. “Later.” She repeated his word, a small smile playing on her face. She had to know what he felt like inside her. What it felt like to be that close to him. Something in her, a part she’d never known, needed to be a part of him. Just for a moment. He’d drawn her from the beginning, and she had to know.

He reached between them, his fingers circling her clit.

She arched against him and shut her eyes. It felt so amazingly good. Sparks flew through her lower half, turning her need into a devastating ache.

He rubbed lower, murmuring in approval.

Yeah. She was good and wet and ready. His fingers were killing her. She moved restlessly against him, needing to be filled. Just for a while. Just to get away.

He rolled on the condom and moved closer, pausing at her entrance. “April. Look at me.”

She opened his eyes to stare into his dark ones. Then he started pushing inside her. Slowly and gently, taking his time, he entered her.

Pain flashed, and she bit her lip. Her body shook. The confusing contrast between her need and the hurt caught her up short.

He paused. “You’re okay,” he murmured. Halfway inside her, he shifted to the side just a little, and his fingers stroked across her hip. Those long and talented fingers, slightly callused, moved across her clit.

She gasped as fire lanced through her.

“There you go.” He caressed over her, keeping his weight on one arm, his muscles straining.

Pleasure cut through her. She whimpered and moved against his hand. He pressed hard against her clit and sent her into a shocking orgasm. Clamping her hands on his arms, she held on tight, riding the waves.

Then she came down, still gasping. Her body softened onto the bed, her thighs naturally opening wider. She was wetter than before. More relaxed.

He slid farther inside her.

That quickly, her heart rate picked up again. She lifted her knees on either side of his hard hips. A quick thought came out of nowhere to question what the hell she was doing. She threw it away into the abyss.

He pushed harder, finally shoving all the way inside her.

She gasped and settled, feeling him all around her. Inside her. Everywhere. Her body wound tighter than before, and she moved before he could.

Then he was thrusting inside her. Hard and fast. Close. She was already so close.

The moment took her away, and she stopped thinking. This wasn’t gentle, and it wasn’t a promise. It was intense and devastating.

She grabbed his arms again, digging in, trying to reach that pinnacle. Her hips lifted to meet his powerful thrusts.

Only his hands on her kept her from flying up into the headboard.

She clenched his hips with her thighs, and then she was spiraling. Her climax threw her away from the moment, consuming and taking everything she had. She rode the waves, her eyes closed, the release so intense she couldn’t breathe.

He was right there with her.

With a powerful shudder, he came against her, his mouth gentle on her neck. Then he moved inside her a few more times, sending tingles throughout her lower half. Finally, he withdrew and disposed of the condom.

Returning to the bed, he piled the covers on top of them and curled her into his side. “That was a nice start,” he murmured, his hand already at her breast.

Her eyes opened wide. “Start?” Her breath quickened.

“Oh, yeah. Hold on, baby. We’re just getting started.”