If there was a part of Damon that didn’t hurt, he couldn’t find it. He moved down the barely lit hallway to his digs in headquarters, wanting nothing more than to head to the inner territory to see April. But she’d wanted space, and he’d promised.

Plus, it wouldn’t do to let her know he’d been shot.

It had taken much longer to clear the gang holding than he’d thought, and the moon was high in the sky now.

He shoved open his door and kicked it back shut, stopping when he realized that a lantern was ignited inside. Shit. Was he in the right room?

He moved past the narrow vestibule and saw April sitting on his bed. She still wore the barely-there shorts, only with a new tank top—this one green with flowers along the neck. Her thick hair was up and off her neck, and her cheeks were a lovely pink.

His body ached, and he’d had way too much to drink. After the flask, they’d dove into a stash of whiskey the gang had no doubt been saving for something fun.

His place had a defunct kitchen, a living area with one sofa and chair, and a bed. Utilitarian and pretty plain. Moving as deliberately as he could, he set his gun in one of the doorless cupboards before turning to face her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She wrung her hands in her lap.

His body jerked to go to her and offer comfort, but she’d obviously come with something to say, and he was going to let her voice it. “Everyone survived the raids, and we ended up with more supplies than we could’ve imagined as well as intel. We don’t know what’s in it yet, though.”

“I’m so glad,” she said, her eyes glowing a deep blue through the dim light.

This close to her, it was almost impossible not to touch. So he stayed on the other side of the too-small studio apartment. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “How am I feeling? You just went on a raid with a concussion and got shot in the back.”

Damn gossips at Vanguard. The soldiers were worse than the old men on porch steps from his youth. He’d only been back inside the territory for about an hour, so the grapevine had to have been working hard. “The vest took all of the impact. I’m careful, April.”

She hiccupped.

He cocked his head. “Have you been drinking?”

“So have you,” she burst out. “I heard you guys found Jack Daniels and then Irish whiskey.”

Who the hell was getting the woman her information? It was like the CIA was active again. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’ve had plenty to drink, and should probably do this conversation tomorrow.” When his head was clear, and his ribs had stopped protesting their existence.

“I want to talk now.” Her chin firmed in that stubborn way she had. The way that made him want to take a bite.

He shoved down the impulse and tried to concentrate. “Then talk.”

She faltered. Her delicate nose twitched, and the pink fled those delicate cheeks that looked as if they were made of glass. She was all curves and fragility, and the way he was feeling right now, he couldn’t protect that. What he wanted after the shitty day he’d had was rough and out of control, and that couldn’t happen.

He was always in control.

So he cleared his throat and focused. “You’re not talking.”

“Sorry.” Her head lifted. “That’s what I wanted to say. Sorry about freaking out earlier and saying it was over. I didn’t mean it.”

His heart thumped against his ribcage, and only sheer stubbornness kept him from wincing at the ensuing pain. She didn’t mean it? “You’re going to have to be a little clearer, sweetheart.”

She huffed out what could only be considered an exasperated breath. “I don’t want to break up. Or stop seeing you, or whatever label you want to put on it.” She rubbed her chest. “I thought I was having a heart attack and I just panicked. Wasn’t thinking. I never should’ve sent you off to danger thinking I didn’t care.”

Ah, shit. He leaned against the wall, his arms itching to hold her. “I know you care.” The woman did nothing but care—about everyone around her. “And if I get hurt, it’s never your fault.” He couldn’t let her carry that, no matter what happened.

She nodded. “I can try harder to keep this casual and not freak out. I’m just new to this.”

The word casual was becoming a burr beneath his skin. It wasn’t enough…not anymore.

She blinked. “And I like that you push me. It’s exciting and new, and that feels good. I, ah, want to try that control stuff you were talking about. I want to challenge you.”

Wh-what? Whoa. Huh. His body went from aching to full-on alive. “April.”

She leaned in. “Are you into that BDSM stuff?” she whispered, even though nobody who could hear them was around.

He burst out laughing. “No.” God, she was cute. “At least, I’m not into labels. I wouldn’t mind binding you and making you beg.” Anything more hardcore than a couple of slaps to the ass didn’t interest him.

“Oh.” Yep. That was relief on her classic face. “Good. I don’t think I’m a nipple clamp type of gal.”

Nipple clamps? Jesus. He’d never met a woman who could be adorable and sexy as hell at the same time before April. “My fingers work just fine on your nipples,” he murmured, his voice naturally lowering.

Her breath caught. She bit her bottom lip. “So. Am I forgiven?”

“For being human, freaking out, and getting scared? You were never not forgiven.” The alcohol was still flowing through his blood and covering the pain. It was also messing with his mind. “Did you reach these conclusions about us before or after drinking tonight?”

“Both,” she said instantly. “This isn’t the booze talking. It’s me.”

Okay. Fair enough. He eyed her, suddenly hungry, and not for food. “Come here, April.”

* * *

April’s insides turned to jelly. Damon’s deep and commanding voice somehow shot through her body to land between her legs. Before she could analyze that, she was already moving to stand in front of him. “How badly are you hurt?” she whispered.

“No more than usual.” He dragged her tank top up and over her head and then released her bra in one smooth motion.

She gasped, instinctively moving to cover her bare breasts.

“No.” He gently set her arms at her sides. “You’re beautiful. Never doubt that.”

The reality smacked her in the face right then. She’d asked him for wild sex, and even a good guy like Damon had a healthy ego. His head might be splitting in two, and rumor had it his ribs were broken, but he’d still give her what she wanted. She wasn’t taking very good care of him. Not at all.

The man definitely deserved better.

She took a step back. “How about we just snuggle down and get some sleep? It’s been a long day and night.” Without waiting for his reply, she bent to grab her shirt. Or rather, she tried to.

He stopped her with one hand across her neck. Controlling her easily and way too quickly.

Her eyes bugged, and her body went on full alert. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice like raw glass.

She faltered. “You’re hurt.”

“You’re right.” His eyes blazed, and he grabbed her hand with his free one, planting it squarely across the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Oh. Well, then. Desire rippled through her, heating what was already hot from their discussion. Her nipples hardened on their own, and tension coiled in her belly. “I can help you with that.” She stroked him and licked her lips. She started to kneel.

He stopped her, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a pity blowjob.”

Well. Her head jerked. “What do you need?” she snapped.

He leaned in, towering over her, his hand still on her vulnerable neck. “I need to be so deep inside you that you fucking stop thinking.”

Mission accomplished. Her mind went blank. Every nerve ending sprang to life beneath her skin, which flushed and sensitized. “Then you should probably make that happen.”

His mouth crashed down on hers. Forceful and demanding. She’d known from the first time their lips touched that Damon Winter could kiss. This was different. He wasn’t cajoling or showing her passion. This time, he was taking. Claiming what he wanted and not giving any quarter.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as he held her where he wanted her. He ripped off his shirt, released her mouth for a second to free his head, and then was right back on her. Lifting her by the hips, he had her on the bed in seconds and then ripped off her shorts.

“You’d better be ready.” He fell to his knees, and his mouth found her.

She arched and cried out. He gave her no time to think. His fingers tunneled easily into her wetness, and his tongue lashed her clit. A climax hit her out of nowhere, and she clutched her nails into the bedspread, riding out the waves.

This was too much.

She gasped and tried to gain control of her heartbeat when he flipped her over. Landing on her stomach, she stilled.

The sound of his zipper releasing pierced the sudden silence.

God. Her body electrified, and a craving for him barreled through her. “Damon.”

“What?” He jerked her up onto her hands and knees.

She liked this side of him. A lot. Her head spun, and her body went liquid. “I don’t know. Just wanted to say your name,” she gasped.

His chuckle brushed her left ear. “You’ll be screaming it in a minute.”

She did a full body shiver. Head to toe and everywhere in between. He reached between her legs from behind and stroked her. The sound she made should’ve embarrassed her, but she was way past that point. He stroked her again, and she pushed into his hand.

“There you go,” he murmured, releasing her and then grabbing her hips.

She caught her breath, staring at the torn wallpaper at the head of the bed. He penetrated her, his movements controlled, not slowing down. She arched as the pleasure edged with pain took her. He didn’t slow or give her a breather. He took.

Her breath panted out, and the feeling of him overwhelmed her and almost threw her into another orgasm. Her thighs trembled.

He didn’t stop until he was seated fully inside her to the hilt.

Her heart beat rapidly, and she had to balance herself with her arms because he had her legs spread. She’d never felt so vulnerable…or aroused.

He reached around her and palmed a breast before rolling her nipple.

The small pain shot down to her sex, which convulsed.

“See why I don’t need clamps?” he whispered into her ear.

She trembled. “Yes.”

He pinched.

She gasped and arched against him, somehow taking him even deeper.

“Ah, that’s nice. We’re going to explore this more later.” He released her nipple and dug his fingers into her hips.

He pulled out and hammered back into her. No build-up. Just pure, raw fucking.

Her arms tightened so she wouldn’t fall. The slap of his flesh against hers filled the quiet night along with his ragged breathing and her soft moans.

He was everywhere. Behind her, inside her, even over her. Damon Winter. All of him.

And he took everything she had to give.

Time moved faster and faster. Her body wound even tighter, and her lungs just gave up the fight and stopped working.

This wasn’t gentle or even wild.

This was raw.

She was so close, but she couldn’t quite get there. He wouldn’t let her. Instead, he pounded into her, leaving his mark with each thrust.

She was frantic. Hot and desperate. She couldn’t take enough of him, couldn’t move her hips fast enough to find that relief.

Deeper. Somehow, he went even deeper inside her. She cried out and arched, throwing her head back. This was beyond anything she’d ever felt before. Ever even imagined. An orgasm, the orgasm, bore down on her like a freight train.

That tension uncoiled, and pleasure cut through her with a sharp edge. She could only gasp and ride out the storm, her limbs shaking from the intensity of it all. And he was right there with her.

Damon’s lips closed over her shoulder, and he tensed. “So fucking good.” He shuddered around her.

She gasped, her eyes no longer seeing the wall. Her body went soft. Pliant.

He withdrew from her, and she gave an odd mewling sound. What the hell was that? Then she flopped face-first onto the threadbare bed covers. Wow. Just…wow.

Damon returned from wherever he’d gone and lay down, pulling her into his arms before settling a light sheet over them. He kissed her forehead and held her securely against his broad chest. His heartbeat pounded against her cheek. First rapidly and then slowing to a reassuring thump.

She sighed, her body moving against his as she closed her eyes.

“April,” he said drowsily, “I swear to God, if you dump me again tomorrow after you’ve come to your senses, I really will tan your hide.”

She fell asleep with a smile on her face. She could feel it.