Silence hung between us as she processed it.
“I didn’t want to bring it to you without understanding it first,” I added. “I’m not handing you half a threat.”
Her eyes moved to mine. Soft, steady. “You don’t have to filter the world for me.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t.” Honesty rang through her simple response.
“I’m not keeping it from you,” I said. “I just needed a night.”
“I needed one too,” she admitted.
Something flickered in her expression then disappeared. I almost asked. Almost pressed. But I didn’t.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said.
I lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Yeah, we will.”
“Do you think this is something we should share with Edwardo and my mom?”
I closed my eyes, shutting out everything I feared could happen. My family wasn’t clean. But did I think I should highlight more problems so her mom could share them with the FBI? No, not even a little bit. “Not yet. Let’s keep it between us.I’m telling you because we don’t keep secrets from each other.” I wouldn’t risk losing her that way.
There were things I didn’t have all the answers to. Darren’s murder. My family’s cover-up. Who actually pulled the trigger—was it Lorne? Adriana had seen him standing over the body with a gun in his hand—thankfully Lorne hadn’t seen her, or she could’ve been shot too.
I still wrestled with questions around what Mila had told me about that night. Could Dunn or someone he’d hired have done it? And why? What had Darren known that cost him his life?
It kept me up at night. Behind all of it was the fear that I would lose Mila. So many ways that I could. What if she got caught in the crosshairs? What if she found out it was someone close to me who’d done it? I couldn’t lose her. She didn’t know it, but she had more power in the relationship than I did, and that was dangerous.
The thought sat heavy in my chest. I looked at her beside me, and the fear didn’t lessen. It deepened. Like the only way to quiet it was to remind myself she was here. That she chose me. My hand moved from hers to her jaw, my thumb brushing just beneath her ear. I didn’t say anything. I just leaned in, needing to feel her answer without words.
She tipped her chin, brushed her mouth over mine once. Twice. The third time lingered, quiet and endless. And it unraveled me.
I leaned into it, turning fully toward her, drawing her in until her body lined up with mine. Her hands bunched in my shirt, pulling me with her as she shifted beneath me, rolling so my weight settled over her.
Everything else fell away—the warmth between us, the taste of her, the soft catch when my hand slipped beneath her shirt and found smooth, bare skin.
Her mouth opened for me, and I lost myself in the feel and taste of her. “Mila…” The word fractured against her mouth.
She answered by tightening her hold, her legs sliding around mine as her body lifted into me.
We’d had frantic, reckless kisses before, but today, there was no urgency. No sense of time running out. Just us, beneath the open sky, and the steady, grounding truth of her in my arms.
Her hand glided down my chest, slipping under my shirt. My breath faltered. She felt it, and a faint smile curved against my lips before they moved lower.
I steadied myself on one arm, careful with her, but she pulled insistently, drawing me down until there wasn’t space between us.
Above us, the sky stretched wide and endless, the silver pendant at her throat catching the morning light as it shifted. My mouth followed its path, pressing along her neck, her collarbone, breathing her in.
Her fingers tightened in my hair. A quiet sound left her, unguarded and real.
After that, there was nothing holding us back. Her warmth erased everything else.
Her eyes locked on mine, bright in the morning light, the noise of the world distant below. Like she wasn’t afraid of any of it.
I kissed her again, deeper this time, and we stepped past the edge together.
The space between us grew heavy, thick with want that coiled tighter every second. Every part of her pulled me closer. My hands traced her hips. Her breath caught, and she lifted into me like distance was unbearable. Mila was something I couldn’t turn away from—even if I tried.
