“You fell in love with me?”
She screwed up her face. “Duh. Remember what I said? It’s impossible to know you andnotlove you. But that’s not your fault,” she was quick to add. “You don’t owe me anything, least of all love. Because love isn’t something that’s ever owed. If it isn’t freely given, it’s not love. And I don’t—”
“I love you too, Grace.”
Her breath shuddered out of her at the same time her heart stopped beating. Shewantedto believe she’d heard the most glorious words in all the English language fall from his lips. But she didn’t trust her own ears.
“From the moment I saw you, there was no past. There was only now and the future I dared to dream of. A future with you in it. You’re the air I breathe, Grace. But I can’t give you the children you—”
“Wait.” She lifted a hand, her brain going in a dozen different directions. There was one thing she was able to grab onto, however. “Youloveme?”
“With all my heart.” His handsome, dear face looked like it was ready to crumble. “Like I’ve never loved anyone in my whole life. But—”
She was across the bench and into his lap before he finished speaking. She had her mouth on his before she even realized what she’d intended to do.
At first his kiss was hesitant. Unsure. Then, he did a little half moan/half hiccup thing that damn near rebroke the heart that’d instantly knitted itself together when he confessed his love, and suddenly his arms were around her. His mouth crushed hers. He kissed her as if his life depended on it.
She had no idea how long they stayed that way, letting their mouths and tongues and teeth communicate all the things there were no words for. Or, at least, no wordsbigenough. She only pulled away when she tasted the salt from her tears.
Or maybe those werehistears on her lips. His gorgeous eyes were overly bright and tell-tale tracks had left wetness on his tanned cheeks.
Cupping his whiskered jaw in her hands, she assured him, “I don’t care if we ever have kids. Having you is enough. But…” She had to swallow because the lump in her throat made it difficult to talk. “But ifyouwant kids, if you want to build a family, I’d love to adopt, or foster, or whatever you—”
His mouth was on hers before she could finish. That time, their kiss went from an expression of love and adoration to an expression of lust and longing. She felt him grow hard against her at the same time a rush of wetness slicked her center.
“This is a logistical nightmare,” he said when they took a breather. It was either stop what they were doing, or in the next fifteen seconds they’d be ripping at each other’s clothes. She really didn’t want her daddy to get out his shotgun. “I mean, there are things about Black Knights Inc. I’ll need to tell you. But I can’t until I get clearance. And since we’re on the subject, my job is in Chicago. Your job—”
“Could be in Chicago, too,” she told him before he could finish. “There’s a field office there. I could put in for a transfer.”
His eyes held such hope. “You’d do that for me?”
“Hunter.” She framed his face again and thought how good his name felt in her mouth. It was going to feel good there for the rest of her life. How amazing was that? Almost too amazing to believe. And yet…the look in his eyes told her it was true. “I know, because of your background, you’re not used to anyone putting you first. But when it comes to me, you need to know, I’ll do anything for you.”
There it was. That elusive smile. It was so bright and pure and true. And the thought of getting to see it every day until her dying day had her heart expanding so far, so fast she thought her ribs might not be able to contain it.
“I’ll only ask one thing in return,” she told him, feigning seriousness.
“What’s that?” His warm breath feathered her lips, smelling faintly of the mint tea her mother had made him.
“That you promise to love me forever.”
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His expression turned serious. Sincere. “Grace Beacham, I promise to love you for as long as my heart keeps time.”
Epilogue
Washington D.C.
An assassin was like a mechanic or a dentist. The good ones were hard to find.
Bishop knew there’d never be another like Pavel Siderov. The man had been a machine. Calculating. Cunning.Meticulous.
But he wasn’t a match for Black Knights Inc.
Not that many were. When Madam President had gone looking for the best of the best, she’d found them.
Sitting back in his desk chair, he steepled his fingers under his chin and looked out the window at the sky roiling above the city. The angry, dark clouds matched his mood.
It was a terrible cut to be down a hitman. But it was salt in the wound to have lost his contact within the FBI.
