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“I was afraid.” Kassidy swallowed. “I was afraid you’d give him away.”
Troy opened his mouth to protest.
“No,” she said. “I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t want him. And I know you thought I’d make a terrible mother.”
He couldn’t argue that. When she’d first showed up on his doorstep with Drake, that was exactly what he’d thought.
“I was terrified.” Her throat sounded clogged. “That you’d make me give him away to someone better. But I love him, Troy. I was there when he was born. I couldn’t bear to give him to strangers.”
Troy’s chest tightened. “We’re not giving him to strangers.” He leaned out to take her hand. “He’s my son, Kassidy. Of course I’m going to raise my son.”
She gave him a watery smile. Beside her, Mila wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Troy wanted to smile at that. Mila had been a rock today, and now she was getting sappy over a little baby. He swallowed a lump of emotion himself. He supposed he understood.
“You did good today,” he told Kassidy. “Really good. You kept your cool and helped save Drake’s life.”
A shudder visibly ran though her. He realized she was still pale, and there were shadows under her eyes.
“Get some sleep,” he told her. “We’ve got a nursery to plan.”
She managed a smile.
“And your room, too. I want you here as much as possible to help with Drake.”
She gave a rapid nod.
“We’re an unorthodox family.” That was an understatement. “But we are a family.”
“We can do better than we have in the past,” she said.
“Absolutely,” Troy agreed.
Kassidy slowly rose to her feet. “Okay. That’s good. I’m going to bed now.” She leaned over to give Mila a hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Get some sleep.”
“I will.” Kassidy gave a chopped sigh and left for her bedroom.
His gaze came to rest on Mila.
She looked back.
“You want to talk now?” he asked, even as his energy drained silently away.
“Are you ticked off at me?”
“Little bit.”
She’d taken an incredible risk. She’d ignored his direct orders in the field. They’d had a good outcome, but the end didn’t always justify the means. And the end could have been very different.
“Then, no,” she said. “I don’t want to talk right now.”
But she surprised him by rising, crossing the room and setting herself down in his lap.
His entire body sang in contentment. He settled an arm around her shoulders.
She peeled off her shoes. “Let’s argue later.”
“Later works for me.” He had no desire to argue with her just then.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he placed his palm on her warm stomach. She was so fit and tough, but she was still soft and smooth. How could anyone be such a perfect combination?
The curve of her backside was cradled in his lap, and it took about thirty seconds for his body to respond.
He rested his cheek against her hair and inhaled deeply.
“I know we always do this impulsively,” he said. “We don’t analyze it, and we don’t discuss it. But I have to say, all relevant facts considered, I really want to carry you off to my bedroom and make love to you for the next twelve hours or so.”
“Maybe we should discuss the pros and cons,” she whispered.
“There are a lot of pros.” He wrapped his hand around her rib cage and settled her more closely to his body.
“Such as?”
“Such as, you’re beautiful, you’re soft and sexy, you’re smart and funny and bold as all get-out. And I love the way you smell.”
She turned her face toward him. “I love the way you smell.” Her palms slid up his chest. “And I love the way you feel. So strong. You make me feel safe.”
“You are safe.”
She tilted her chin, and he kissed her mouth. She tasted amazing. He kissed her again.
“There are also cons.”
“Not tonight. The cons can sit this one out. The world can sit this one out. It’s just you and me, Mila.”
She smiled, her green eyes bright and deep as a glacial lake. “Okay.”
She pushed herself up and stood.
He took her hand. She snagged the bottle of wine.
On the way past the bar, he picked up a couple of glasses.
He locked the bedroom door behind them, hitting the switch for the gas fireplace. The spacious room was filled with a soft orange glow.
“Nice,” she said.
“You’re what’s nice.”
He set down the wine and the glasses and pulled back the covers on the king-size bed.
She followed him over, removing her T-shirt and dispensing with her bra. He pulled off his own shirt, unbuttoning his pants. Then he paused while she stripped off her socks and her jeans and stood there in her white lace panties.
“You’re gorgeous,” he told her, tracing a line from her neck to her shoulder and down her arm. “Can I just stand here and look at you for a while?”
“Sure,” she said.
He’d expected to be impatient. He was definitely aroused. But he didn’t just want sex here. He wanted more. He wanted to know her like nobody else knew her. He wanted all of her, body and soul.
She traced a scar that traversed his abdomen. He knew it was the most prominent one. She looked expectantly up at him.
“Car crash. Chasing a guy through downtown Munich.”
“Not a knife fight?”
“Knife fights are bad news. You want to stay out of knife fights.”
“Did you catch him?” she asked.
“I did.”
She traced another scar.
“My misspent youth,” he told her.
“Poor baby.” She leaned in to kiss it.
The warmth of her lips sent tendrils of desire skittering across his skin. He groaned and drew her into his arms.
“You feel even better than you look,” he said.
“So do you.”
“Kiss me.”
She looked up at him. “Sure.”
He brought his lips to hers, and the world truly did fall away. He lifted her onto the bed, stripped off the rest of his clothes, dispensed with her panties and drew her full-length into his arms. She was all limbs and motion, warmth and friction. He touched her everywhere, kissed her everywhere, watched the firelight play off the honey of her skin.
She was everything he wasn’t. Her hair was soft as silk. Her lips were like rose petals. Her soft breasts filled his hands, and her moist body welcomed him into the apex of heat and softness. He wanted to stay here forever. He wanted Mila forever.
There was no way in the world he could see giving her up.
Finally, they were satiated and still. He lay there beside her, then rose up on one elbow to gaze at her. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was even. If she wasn’t asleep, she soon would be.
He was in love with her.
He’d never felt it before, but he was certain of it. He wanted everything for her, nothing but the best. He wanted her to be happy and safe, and he wanted her to be close to him—to him and Drake—forever.
He didn’t know what to do about that, but there it was.
“You saved my son,” he whispered.
“Hmm?” The word was barely a breath. Her hand twitched but then went still.
“Thank you, Mila.”
* * *
Mila awoke feeling lighter and more confident. She emerged from Troy’s bedroom, hearing his voice coming from the kitchen. It was obvious he was talking to Drake.
She stopped in the doorway, leaning on the wall. “Morning.”
Troy smiled at the sound of her voice, looking up from his tablet. “Morning.”
She walked into the room.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“Love some.”
He rose to take a white mug from the bottom shelf. “Sleep well?”
“I did.” She stroked the top of Drake’s head.
He banged his heels against the high chair, selecting another round of cereal.
“Me, too.” Troy handed her a cup of coffee.
“You want to say what you’ve got to say?” she asked.
She’d ignored his orders last night, and he had a right to be annoyed. He’d said as much before they’d made love last night.
“It’s over,” he said.
“I don’t understand.”
Didn’t he want to lay down the law, tell her to never pull anything like that again?
“Let’s move on.”
“To what?” She didn’t want special treatment. If she deserved a dressing-down, she’d take it.
“Last night,” he said, his voice gentle, hand coming up to touch her cheek, “well, it made me realize...”
“That I can hack it?”
“That you’re one in a million.”
Her heart warmed. “So, you get it now? You see what I can do.”
