“I mean, we’ve scratched our itch. We’ve lived for the day. But it’s my experience that the quicker these things end, the easier it is to slip right back into our old roles. And the less likely it’ll be that anyone gets their feelings hurt.”
He’d felt pieces of himself breaking in two with each word out of his mouth. And the look on her face? If he’d had a heart, her expression would’ve broken it.
She hadn’t argued though. She’d had more pride than that. She’d simply picked up her muffin and her coffee and disappeared upstairs.
When she’d come back down, her head had been held high and her back had been straight. The next time she’d spoken to him, her tone had been cool and professional with just the smallest hintof scorn.
He’d jumped on the scorn, figuring the best way to make her fall out of love with him—and her little speech had convinced him itwaslove and not simply limerence—was to show her the nasty, sarcastic side of himself.
He’d been making sure that side of himself stayed at the forefront ever since.
If their increasingly bitter exchanges were anything to go by, his plan was working.
When she laughed at something Agent Douglas said, he found himself longing for his next mission. The Knights were due to fly out in three days, which couldn’t come quickly enough to suit him. And when she patted the fed on the chest, he felt possessiveness slice into him like a blade made from volcanic glass. Which proved just how toxic he was.
Possession is about ownership, remember? Love is about freedom.
She deserved better than what he had to offer her. She deserved better thanhim. But when she reached up to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he couldn’t help recalling how she’d done thatexact thingas she’d gone down on her knees in the pantry.
She was so damn sexy. So damn beautiful. So damnwonderful.
The angels and demons waged war inside him again. The demons told him to go to her, to tell her he’d been wrong to put a period on their affair so soon, to rip her away from that square-jawed asshat. The angels shouted for him to stay away, to save her from himself, to be a better man than his father had ever been.
He listened to the angels…
33
Ten days later...
Eliza paced back and forth across the shop floor, her heart firmly lodged in her throat.
At some point, the damn thing had grown spikes that dug into her trachea, making it difficult to breathe. But that wasn’t the only part of her body that had turned traitor. Her hand shook as she clutched at her locket. Her lips burned where she’d bitten them.
It had been two hours since the Black Knights had landed at O’Hare. Two hours since they’d returned from a mission that had gone sideways from the start. Britt’s injury weighed heavily on her, along with knowing they hadn’t reached their objective.
What in the world went wrong out there? Human error? Faulty intel? What?
Anxiety gnawed at her stomach. Impatience poked at her brain.
Because Britt had been hurt, instead of letting them make their way home via cab, Uber, or train, Boss had rented a van to pick them up. Which meant they should’ve pulled into the compound an hour ago.
What is taking so long?
Although…if she was being honest, she could no longer rely on her ability to measure the passing of time. The seven days her guys had been OUTCONUS—military speak foroutside the continental U.S.—had felt like seven years.
She was always a little bored and lonely when they were away. But this time, she’d been bored and lonely andheartbroken.And apparently that last thing caused the hours to trudge by at a snail’s pace.
She still wasn’t sure what had happened to make Fisher call it quits on their arrangement. Had she said something to drive him away? Done something to push him to end it?
She’d replayed every interaction in her mind—most of which were so steamy she’d found herself sweating. But no matter how many times she’d gone through it, an answer eluded her.
She might have thought the reason behind his decision could be blamed on her confessing her love for him. But it wasn’t like he’d heard. He’d been sawing logs like a lumberjack, and she’d been careful to keep her voice barely above a whisper.
The voice of reason that lived in the back of her head demanded,Why did you have to go and confess? Why didn’t you keep things to yourself?
The answer was simple. She’d been unable to sleep that night because her feelings had been too big to hold in. She would have burst open like a human piñata if she hadn’t spoken her love aloud, just once.
She’d waited until she was sure he was deep asleep before letting her feelings out. She’d said to the unconscious man all the things she’d promised herself she’d never say to the conscious man. And then she’d fallen into a deep, peaceful slumber.
