Chapter twenty four
Simon Riley
The base is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that hums beneath the skin.
It's late—everyone else is either dead asleep or dead drunk.
But I can't stop thinking about her.
About how she moved today, side by side with me.
How she handled herself under pressure.
How her hands never shook when she saved lives.
How she never let fear take her—not once.
My girl.
Tough. Beautiful. Mine.
⸻
I find her in her quarters, door unlocked, like she's been waiting.
She's just out of the shower. Hair damp. Wearing nothing but a loose grey shirt—my shirt—and soft shorts that ride high on her thighs. Her skin's still pink from the heat of the water. Fresh. Real.
Lilly doesn't say anything when I close the door behind me.
She just looks at me—like she already knows what I came for.
And it's not just sex.
It's something deeper.
Need.
Comfort.
The ache to feel something real in the middle of all this wreckage.
I cross the room in two strides and kiss her. Hard.
No words. No hesitation.
Just the crash of us.
Her hands fist in my shirt. I lift her up like she weighs nothing, backing her into the wall, mouths never parting. She moans low, soft, desperate.
"Been thinking about you all day," I growl against her lips.
"Yeah?" she whispers, breathless.
I slide my hands under her shirt, feel the soft heat of her skin, the curve of her waist, the way she arches into me like she's starving.
"You looked so damn good in that gear," I murmur. "Gun in your hands. Fire in your eyes."
Her thighs tighten around me. "Keep talking like that and I'm not gonna last long."
"Good," I say, dragging my mouth down her throat, teeth grazing. "I want you wrecked. I want every sound you make to be mine."
⸻
We make it to the bed somehow—barely.
Clothes come off in pieces, ripped and discarded.
The light stays on. We want to see.
Every bruise. Every scar. Every inch of each other.
She touches me like I'm not something broken.
Like I'm not violence wrapped in skin.
Like I'm hers.
And when I sink into her, it's like coming home.
⸻
We move together slow at first—like we're savoring it, like every second matters.
Her fingers grip my back, nails digging, legs locked tight around my waist.
She whispers my name over and over. Not Riley. Not Lieutenant.
Simon.
The only name I ever want to hear from her lips.
And I whisper hers like a prayer.
Lilly. Lilly. Lilly.
We build together—heat rising, bodies slick, sweat mixing.
And when she finally breaks beneath me, crying out with her whole body, I follow with a groan and bury myself in her like I never want to leave.
⸻
After, we lie tangled. Breathing heavy. Bodies humming.
Her fingers trace slow circles on my chest. My arm is wrapped under her, keeping her close, grounded.
"You scare me," she whispers into the quiet.
I tilt my head to look down at her. "Why?"
"Because I think I'd follow you anywhere."
I press my mouth to her hair. "Then I better make damn sure I'm worth following."
"You are," she says without hesitation. "You always were."
And in that moment, for the first time in a long time…
I believe her.