I’ve been shot at, blown off my feet, left bleeding in sand and smoke in more ops for MARSOC—Marine Forces Special Operations Command—than I’m allowed to admit.
But I never once felt the kind of fear that sits right under your ribs and steals your air, the kind that makes a man wonder what his life is worth without the one person who makes it mean something.
That’s what tonight was.
And it’s a miracle I’m still standing.
The cleanup’s done.
Every trace of what happened has been wiped away.No footprints, no shell casings, no ghosts—at least not the kind anyone else can see.
But me?
I’ll see them every time I close my eyes.
If you ask me, Roach and his boys got off easy.I only hope the Devil himself was waiting with a grin when that bastard crossed over.
That’s the last thought I give him.Ever.
Because right now, I’ve got her.
And holding Bit while she talks, while she unravels every knot the past few days tied into her heart, is the only thing keeping me steady.
She talks about the art show she got into, her plans to set up a table and sell her handmade work, and how she wants to turn the bad into something good.
She tells me about her mom, the way that woman cuts her down, and I feel something inside me twist hard enough to hurt.
She apologizes for bringing trouble to my door, and I almost lose it.
“Don’t you ever say that.This is your home.I’m your home, Lil Bit and you belong right here with me.You are everything to me.But I’ll do better.I won’t let anything touch you again.”
The idea that she thinks she’s anything but the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me makes me want to put a fist through the wall.
But I don’t.
I listen to her.And I think it must count for something because she looks at me like I’m everything she wants in this world—and it both humbles me and makes me proud as fuck.
Hell, I want to shout it from the rooftops.
But I hold still, and I let her finish.
Because that’s what she needs—someone who’ll stay quiet while she lets it out, someone who’ll hold her steady until her voice stops shaking.
When she’s finally done, I slide my hand up her neck and cup her face, thumbs brushing the curve of her jaw.
Her skin’s soft and damp from the shower, her eyes searching mine like she’s afraid of what I’ll say next.
“You don’t have to do better, Sawyer.You already said you love me.That’s all I need.”
“Is it?”I ask, feeling the tension rise and desire spark to life between us.
My body is hard, my cock aching for her—it always is.
But tonight is all for her.I go at her pace and at her say so only.
“Not really,” she whispers.
My breath hitches.
