In that moment, the world was quiet, except for us.
I traced the line of his jaw, the stubble rasping under my fingertips. “We’re not temporary anymore,” I whispered.
He turned his face into my palm, lips brushing my skin. “Never were. Not for me.”
I ended up sprawled half on top of him, my cheek pressed to his chest again. His skin was damp, his heartbeat a wild staccato slowly easing back toward normal.
“If this is what ‘emotionally compromised’ looks like,” I said eventually, “I’m not complaining.”
He huffed out a laugh, the sound rumbling under my ear. “I’d apologize for being unprofessional,” he said, “but that ship sailed a long time ago.”
“The ship is under us,” I pointed out.
“Smartass.”
He tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to look at him. There was a softness in his expression I’d never seen in full daylight before. A vulnerability he hadn’t been able to afford when our meetings were squeezed between patrols and intel briefings.
“You okay?” he asked. Not about the sex. About all of it.
“Define okay,” I said, echoing him from last night.
His mouth quirked. “Not hyperventilating. Minimal urge to throw up.”
“In that case …” I considered. “I’m okay. Slightly wrecked. Questioning all my life choices. But okay.”
His thumb stroked along my jaw. “We can go slow,” he said quietly. “With this. With … everything. You don’t owe me some instant happily-ever-after just because we finally got our heads out of our asses long enough to say we love each other.”
I studied him.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I said.
“Promise?” he asked, half teasing, half something else.
“Don’t make me say it again,” I warned.
“I like hearing it,” he said.
Of course, he did.
“Then behave,” I said. “Or I’ll go back to hating you.”
He grinned, and the sight of it did something treacherous to my chest. “No, you won’t,” he said. “You’re too honest for that.”
Maybe, I was.
Honest enough to admit that we were a mess. That the timing sucked. That my career was tied to a story in a house full of menwhose last name he shared. That I was already bending my own rules because of him.
Honest enough to admit I’d do it again.
I shifted, propping myself up on one elbow so I could see his face fully.
“You know this complicates everything,” I said.
“With Dominion Hall?” he asked.
“With all of it,” I said. “My reporting. Your work. Your family. The enemies circling this place like sharks. Loving you doesn’t magically make any of that simpler.”
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”
