The words are low, accusatory. There are so many emotions in his eyes, I don’t even know what to focus on. Betrayal. Disbelief. Resentment. But it’s the hurt that cuts me the deepest.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“You promised me.” He jerks his hand toward the couch. “We sat right here, and you promised you would never do it without my consent.”
“I had no choice.” My voice shakes. “I didn’t know they would let me go that easily. I thought we would all be killed.”
“You fuckingincitedme.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Growling, he drags both hands through his hair and spins away, keeping his back to me. He’s so mad he can’t even look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. I want to walk over and throw my arms around him, but I’m scared he’ll push me away.
He finally turns, and what I see in his expression goes far beyond anger and hurt. It’s fear. A fear so sharp, so real, it makes my stomach twist.
“You sacrificed yourself for me. Don’t you ever fucking do that again.”
“Gray—”
“No. I don’t need you to argue with me. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me you will never put my life ahead of yours.”
“You would put yours ahead of mine,” I point out.
“Because your life means more to me,” he snaps, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. “I don’t give a shit what happens to me. But you…” He trails off.
I swallow.
Silence falls. We stand there, both of us breathing hard. When I open my mouth to speak, he steps forward, tugging on my wrist to pull me toward him.
His arms come around me, holding me close. His chin rests atop my head. I feel him trembling as he draws a ragged breath.
“Promise you’ll never pull a stunt like that again. Promise, and fucking mean it.”
I hear how serious he is. I bury my face against his chest, inhaling his familiar citrus scent.
“I promise.”
I tip my head back, seeing the vulnerability swimming in his eyes, and it makes me cup his face with both hands. I wish I had the ability to ground him the way he grounds everyone else. I want to soothe his emotions.
He never lets anybody see him like this.
“I promise,” I repeat, then rise on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. It’s a gentle kiss. A promise he can feel. “I’ll never do that again.”
The tension snaps, and suddenly his mouth is on mine. My body comes alive, nerve endings firing as desire sparks beneath my skin. But I’m covered in dirt and grime, and when he slips his hands beneath my shirt, I break the kiss and pull back.
“I need a shower,” I say sheepishly.
He nods toward the private lav behind him. “Use mine.”
I hesitate. “I don’t have any clothes here.”
“Wear mine.”
A smile tugs on my lips. “I notice you’re not offering to join me.”
“I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” The intensity of his gaze robs me of breath.
