“The two feelings don’t have to be exclusive.” He cupped her jaw, gauging if the simple touch was still too much. “I know you’ll always have my back. Your team’s back. But shouldering that much responsibility comes at a cost. And if you don’t want the price to be your soul, your sanity, you need to find a way to work it out.”
She toed the floor, shoulders stiff, her body looking as if it might break from the tension. “Is this where we go find a dive bar? Maybe start a brawl? Or are you suggesting we just jump straight to sex because if I remember correctly, most of the other guys on your team screwed their pain away.”
He snorted. “Trust me, if I thought sex was the answer, I’d already be grinding you into the bed. But that’s not what you need.”
She frowned, slapped him on the arm. “How do you…” She hiccupped, the last of her walls starting to crumble. “How do you know what…”
He stepped into her, one hand threading through her hair, holding the back of her neck as the other cinched around her waist, held her tight against his chest. She fisted his hoodie, twisting the fabric as she took a few shuddering breaths before the dam cracked, all that pain and guilt breaking free.
Coulter closed his eyes, holding her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, suddenly aware of how small she felt next to him. Which was odd. Despite him being six two, she was above average at five seven, had more strength than half the guys double her size, but here, now, she wasn’t the army sniper who’d battled her way through special forces selection — made a mark few women would ever achieve.
She was Neve Monroe. The woman he’d fallen hopelessly in love with.
He wasn’t sure how long they stood there before the shuddering ended, her head resting quietly on his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t talk, just held her, enjoying the simple pleasure of having her in his arms. Knowing how lucky he was to have another chance.
To finally show her how much he loved her.
It took a few more minutes before she seemed willing to move. Just a tilt of her head at first, then a shift of her weight as she eased back, eyes closed, looking so damn beautiful his heart stopped. Nothing but a dead weight in his chest.
He smoothed his palm along her neck to her jaw, thumbing away some of her tears, trying not to grunt when his heart kicked back up — beat so fast he could barely breathe. “God, you’re stunning.”
That earned him a tentative smile. “If you’re into red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose.”
He leaned down. “Hey. It’s just us. If you can’t let go in front of me, that says more about me, than you, sweetheart.” He dipped down, placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “And I happen to love red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose.”
She tightened her grip, holding him against her as their breathing mixed, the energy morphing into something deeper — something more dangerous than bullets and madmen.
Coulter squeezed her shoulder, stepped back and yanked his hoodie over his head followed by his tee. He shook out the tee, then handed it to her. “I only just put this on, so… We should get some rest.”
She stared at him, gaze raking over him, a small frown shaping her mouth when she paused on the bruising still coloring his skin. She palmed his chest, shuddering as his heart pounded wildly beneath her hand. “Coulter…”
“Ignoring the fact you’re not ready for anything remotely intense, not with your senses still dialed up to eleven, you’re also exhausted. We both are. Sleep. Then, we’ll see.”
A few more tears slipped free before she sniffled, nodded, quickly removing her clothes before dragging his tee over her head. Inhaling, she smiled, following him onto the bed.
He offered her his chest, laying his arm along her back. “Is this too much?”
She shook her head, her body trembling until she leaned into him. “It’s perfect.”
“Close your eyes. We’re safe.”
She burrowed into him, her hand resting over his heart. She started to fade, then pulled herself back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, sleep.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest, drifting off a second later, as if someone had flicked a switch. He drew her closer, listening to her hushed breath, how any tremors stopped the moment he rubbed her arm, or kissed her forehead.
The room fell silent, the soft weight of her body on his drawing him under. He drifted, distant sounds from beyond the door rousing him enough that he assessed the risk, then went back to sleep. Images flashed in his mind — Fraser looming over him, his knife glowing red in the flickering flames. Neve appearing over his shoulder. The echoed reverberation of the shot as Fraser’s head snapped back. The look of utter devastation on her face as Fraser collapsed on top of Coulter, the man’s dead weight crushing his chest. He called out, shoving at the corpse, when Neve shook him, snapping him out of the dream.
He reared up, taking her with him in a tangle of blankets and limbs. He panted through a few breaths, Neve’s hand landing on his chest. He snapped his gaze to her, everything fading into the curve of her mouth, the soft press of her skin as she cupped his face.
She leaned in. “You were shouting in your sleep.”
He gripped her wrist, held her hand against his cheek. “Just a dream.”
“More like a nightmare but… Are you okay?”
He nodded. A bit too fast, but she didn’t call him on it. “Got everything I need, right here.”
