When she turned to face him, the sight of him nearly brought her to her knees. His shirt was gone. His hair was damp from the shower. His jeans rode low on his hips, the faint line of a scar she remembered trailing just above the waistband. His gaze locked on her like a storm front, brewing with things unsaid and years of unfinished business. “I am so sorry I couldn’t get you out to your brother. I?—”
She walked past him into the shack.
He followed. The door clicked shut behind them.
“Drew,” he said. “Can you let me explain?”
She knew he wasn’t talking about tonight. She understood why they came back. No, he was talking about why he’d dumped her.
“Why do I have to let you explain? You had all the time in the world to explain it to me, and you didn’t bother back then. Why should I listen to you now?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was wrong, okay? I…panicked.”
A snort of laughter burst from her lips. “You? Scared? You’re a fucking Navy SEAL. How the hell were you scared?”
“Fuck, Drew. I was scared of losing you.”
She frowned. “So you dumped me?” She shook her head. “Yeah, no. That makes no sense. Try again. Or better yet, don’t. It doesn’t matter now.”
“It fucking does matter.” His voice was harsh and he moved to stand directly in front of her. “Whenever I was on an op, it took everything I had to block you out so I could be there for my team. I worried about you all the damn time. You are fearless, out there taking on murderers and thieves without a second thought. Never hesitating, never second-guessing yourself. Itwas killing me that I couldn’t be here with you to back you up if you needed it.”
“Billy backs me up, and Wallace, if I need it. You didn’t need to?—”
“What? Worry about you? Of course I worried. Billy and Wallace aren’t me. I”—he pointed to his chest—“didn’t know if you were safe. I felt like I was leaving you to the wolves every time I went out that door to do my fucking job, and it was killing me. I didn’t know if you were going to be there when I got back.”
Did he believe he was the only one who felt that way? “I’m sorry… What the hell do you think I felt when you left? Your chance of dying was much higher when you went out the door than mine ever could be. Did I once tell you not to go? Did I once say anything that wasn’t supportive? Every time you went out the door, I couldn’t breathe until you returned. But I kept that terror to myself, because it wouldn’t help you. I just threw myself into work, marking time until you showed up again.”
Cross’s eyebrows went up. “You never once said you didn’t want me to go. Not once did you tell me you were worried about me.”
“Because I know that doesn’t help. I didn’t tell Mac, either, but I worried about him, too. I didn’t want to put that on you or him. I didn’t dump you over it.”
“No, you just never said anything. I…thought it didn’t matter to you. That you didn’t…care.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “I thought you didn’t love me the way I loved you, and I didn’t think I could live with it if you got hurt while I was away. Or worse, if I came back and you’d moved on with someone else.”
Drew’s knees went weak, and she thought she might be ill. “You dumped me because you thought I didn’t love you?” she demanded, her voice breaking on the last two words.
Cross nodded once.
“I loved you more than anything or anyone else in my life. I was devastated when you dumped me. Fucking crushed! You told me I was too much to deal with. That broke me. It’s taken me ages to put myself back together and all because you were afraid to get your ego bruised or your heart broken?”
She whirled away from him, looking for somewhere to go, but there was nowhere to hide. This was all too much. Her system was in overdrive. She needed to get away. To be far away from Cross so she could deal with his confession.
He grabbed her arm and swung her back around.
Moonlight streamed through the cracked slats in the wall, turning the small room into silver and shadow. Cross was so close she could smell the soap on his skin, and the heat radiating off his chest was blistering.
“Drew,” he murmured, but she started shaking her head. She couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t breathe. Their gazes locked, and he reached for her at the same time she grabbed the front of his jeans. Their mouths crashed together, all fury and ache and desperation.
She tasted anger and longing in his kiss, and gave it right back, her hands already dragging down his zipper. She wanted him. Wanted everything to go back the way it was. She needed this. Needed him. The feel of him. The weight of him. Proof that she was enough, not just to herself but for him. Proof that he still cared and that he was still hers, even if only for tonight.
They stumbled back toward the cot. Cross stripped off her shirt in one smooth tug, his hands hot and reverent against her skin. She climbed onto the mattress as he followed, sliding between her thighs. The mosquito net brushed over them like a veil, making it feel more private somehow—like they were cocooned in some fever dream.
“You’re shaking,” he said, fingers tracing her ribs.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Don’t you dare stop.”
His mouth sealed over hers again, slower this time, deliberate. He mapped her body like he’d never forgotten a single inch. She arched into him as his hand slid down between her legs, teasing her through her panties before tugging them off. She moaned into his mouth when he slid a finger inside her, slow and deep, curling just enough to make her hips buck.
“God, Cross?—”
