Page 84 of Reckless

Ghost closes his laptop, waiting until the room has mostly emptied before he gets to his feet. By the time we reach the doorway, it’s just the two of us.

“Ghost…”

He stops, but he doesn’t turn straightaway.

“Thank you.” He looks back at me, and my throat suddenly feels too tight. “Out there…” I shake my head, trying to find words that don’t seem big enough for what happened. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

His eyes hold mine. “No.”

One word—absolute—and it steals the rest of the air from my lungs.

“You could’ve…” I can’t finish it.

I don’t need to.

You could have died.

You killed for me.

You make me feel things I have never felt.

He closes the distance between us before I even realize he’s moving. Every step measured until he’s standing so close I can still smell the sharp bite of gunpowder clinging to the leather of his cut beneath the familiar scent that’s become so unmistakably him. His hand lifts slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, and his palm settles against my cheek.

Warm and steady.

My eyes flutter closed for the briefest second, leaning into the touch before I can stop myself. When I look back at him, something in his expression has changed.

The walls are still there, but they are just… not quite as high.

His thumb brushes slowly across my cheekbone. “You really don’t know…” His voice is rough enough that I almost don’t hear it.

“Know what?”

The corner of his jaw flexes like he’s arguing with himself. Like every instinct he has is telling him to swallow the next words before they ever reach me.

He loses the argument. “How much I care.”

My breath catches.

Neither of us moves.

My heart is beating so hard I’m certain he can feel it beneath my ribs.

His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes everything else disappear. It’s just…

Him.

Me.

And one impossible heartbeat that feels like it’s asking both of us the same question. Kiss me.

His gaze drops, just enough to find my mouth.

Mine follows.

I don’t even realize I’ve leaned toward him until there’s barely enough space left to breathe. Then Ghost blinks, almost like he’s remembered where we are. His thumb strokes my cheek one last time before his hand slips away. “I should’ve told you sooner.” The words are barely above a whisper. Then, he takes a step back.

And another.