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Fucking hell.
If peripheral neuropathy ever showed up in a human form, Mark was going to high-five it. In the face. With a chair.
It was so goddamned frustrating. Although right then, on the floor, his ego was bruised more than anything.
He’d felt the barest twinge of the motor nerve disorder when he started sparring with Jenna, but he’d ignored it. A lot of times, it never turned into anything more than the twinges. But sometimes, like right now, it reared its ugly head in the worst way. The muscle in his leg had collapsed, cramping and twitching and taking him to the floor before he knew it was coming.
It was everything he feared: one of his limbs stopping its correct function in the middle of a fight. What if it happened while he was on active status? While he was protecting someone? It could cost a life.
As much as he didn’t want to complete the conversation he’d started with Ian about his physical limitations, Mark knew there wasn’t much time left before his body made the choice for him. The knowledge burned like coals in his chest.
He looked up, expecting to find Jenna standing over him doing nothing short of a victory dance. And then he was going to have to explain to her what had just happened. He wasn’t looking forward to that.
But instead, he found her pale, her eyes unfocused and distant like they’d been at the Eagle’s Nest.
“No,” she whispered. “Oh no.”
“Hey, little librarian.” He reached up and took her hand. “I’m fine. This wasn’t because of you.”
She shook her head back and forth slowly. “I was hitting you. I’m so sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her words were shaky, broken. “Sometimes I just go into this zone and I don’t know what I’m doing and—”
She was really upset. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but she was sinking into panic, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
He put his other hand around her hips and pulled her down to the floor with him, shielding her from the impact before he rolled over her body. Pressure was sometimes the best way to short-circuit a panic attack, and the only thing he had to use at the moment was his body.
“Hey.”
She blinked up at him, awareness coming back to those brown eyes. “I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I—”
“Nope.” Although, he wished that were the case. “Despite your impressive skills, you didn’t do this. Sometimes I have… Sometimes I’ll just have a thing where one of my muscles misfires. I’ve been dealing with it for a while, and I never know when it’s going to happen. This wasn’t your fault.”
Some of the tension fell from her face. The knowledge she wasn’t at fault was sinking in. “Really?”
“Really,” he promised with a small laugh. “I was very much enjoying the fighting. My leg just had a problem. It was my own body that took me down. Not you.”
“Okay.” Jenna was biting her bottom lip, and the tiny motion made him even more aware of the position they were in. How soft and feminine she felt under him.
When she glanced at his lips and back up at him, he was done for.
Three full days being in this house with her, watching her be sassy, comfortable, and an absolute badass? Nearly every second had been a challenge not to kiss her.
Now, it would be damned impossible.
He moved closer, giving her every opportunity to pull away, but she didn’t. Those honeyed eyes dropped to his lips again, and that was it.
He kissed her.
Finally.
It felt like he was lit up within, along with everything else. Jenna’s lips were perfect, and kissing her felt like the missing piece of a puzzle.
She kissed him back.
God, this was everything he’d imagined. Jenna wasn’t shy or afraid; she was fire.
Her lips were soft and wet and open. Greedy. He loved it. He was greedy himself.
