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“Fuck. Discreet.” He forced it out through tight teeth, if only to test if it’d bring on the storm again. Christ. Christ. It was a fucking Cat Five disaster. An intergalactic cataclysm. The Death Star, Krypton, Alderaan, and the Borg cube detonating inside him at once. Every pore in his body started sweating. Every molecule of air left his lungs. His heart, heaving hard, kept him going.
His heart.
His heart.
Pushing him closer to her. Tightening his arms around her. Pushing him…pushing him…
Until he was taking her mouth under his. Parting her lips with his. Sweeping his tongue inside, attempting to consume her just like she’d taken over him. Over all of him. His body. His spirit. His soul.
His heart.
When he finally thought he could attempt it, he dragged away. Even then, with just an inch of space between his face and hers, it felt like miles. How did guys do this when they had to actually leave for months at a time on missions? How the hell was he going to do this, just to get his ass back into the cottage to join Lino, Tait, and Kell?
But first things first.
And the answer he had to give her—had to give her—sure as fuck came first.
“I’m done hiding, Tracy.” One of his hands splayed across her back. He lifted the other to her face, pressing his fingers to her gorgeous skin, telling himself to memorize the shape and feel and warmth of her, only to realize he already had. Days ago. Days that now all seemed but minutes. Minutes he’d sacrifice his goddamn soul to get back. Why had he taken them all for granted? Why hadn’t he known?
Known exactly what his lips now confessed.
“I’m in love with you, Tracy Livia Rhodes.” His voice was a rusty sawblade of stark emotion, and he didn’t care. He cared about nothing but the woman in his arms. The miracle the goddamn universe had finally given to him. And yeah, he cared about telling her exactly that, in his clunky way. “I’m in love with you, and I don’t want to be ‘discreet’ about it. Ssshhh.” He emphasized the dictate by shoving his fingertips into her hair and yanking hard. “I know this is a shitty thing to lay on you right now. I know the timing couldn’t be worse, and that neither of us can do a goddamned thing about it. I know you can’t offer me anything more than what we’ve had this last week…which has been more than what I ever dreamed of.”
He only took a pause because he had to. Because getting the words out meant letting the feelings spill too. All the feelings. So many. Too many. They rushed him like an army of cosmic insurgents, hellbent on killing him with bullets bearing her name. Exploding with her magic, her life, her light, her passion…
And now, her tears. Streaming down her upturned face, each of them searing a hot, wet trail through his soul before hovering on her parted, quavering lips. “John…oh God…I don’t know…”
“But I do.” He stroked down her jaw and took her lips again, simply brushing them this time. “I do know, kitten.” With a thumb, he swiped the salty wetness off her upper lip. “And because I do…I’m turning your offer down. But I’ll still be watching, okay? Whatever bastard does get lucky enough to preserve your safety, he’d better be ready to answer to me for every fucking move he makes—keeping you safe, for me.”
A halting breath entered her. Exited her on a wet, sparse sob. “Wh-what…d-do you…”
“I’ll be waiting, Tracy.” He lifted his other hand, treasuring her face like a diamond in the setting of his palms. “You tell me you want me there, and I’ll be waiting the second you leave the White House. I’ll be waiting, ready to love you just as deeply and completely as I do right now.”
Her mouth fell open again. Not a single sound spilled out, which was probably a damn good thing. Right now, as he dropped his hands and turned away, only the endless crashes of the waves and the empty whisper of the wind felt like fitting music for the resigned decision of his soul—and the fucking eternity of torture he’d just agreed to put it through.
