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“It’s in my nature to be protective.” His hand cups my chin, and I lift his palm to my lips.
“That’s why you were so good in security.” If I’m honest, I resented him—or, well, not Fisher, but the entire security requirement. Hated it at times. I still want to believe I don’t need protection. Countless hours on the mat, self-defense tactics, knife skills, time on the gun range, all of that was done to eliminate any residual helpless feelings. And I was at the top of my class at Quantico and Langley. Not many can say that.
As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “I trust you can handle yourself now. But it’s still in me to want to protect you. Today…I lost it. I went from thinking they had you and were going to contact us with threats, to thinking they would kill you without brokering a deal, to wondering if you staged it all so you could re-visit Killington or that maybe you engineered Talbot’s death.”
“What?” Absentmindedly, he rubs my back, calming me, but I’m stuck. “Talbot died? How?”
“The news blip I heard didn’t say.”
That man took campaign contributions from shady sources. Who would—
“He was eighty-three,” Fisher says, filling in my thought. Right. It doesn’t mean anything. “Getting back to the conversation at hand.” He pauses until I return his gaze. “If we’re going to be together, I think I need for us to be a team. Not just on this operation, but moving forward. I can’t just have you out there, not knowing anything. And I know that’s not fair, but—”
“Fisher.” My voice has a parental quality to it that surprises me. “Agency first.” It’s more of an FBI mantra, but a version applies to the CIA, to the military—heck, he’s got it tattooed on his body.
He blinks. He glances to his arm, possibly having similar thoughts to mine.
“We’re going to need to insert a tracking device in your molar.” The warmth of his hand envelops the back of my neck. “Or maybe under your skin.”
Now I’m grinning, because he’s being silly, but I also kind of love how his silliness makes me feel. Like he needs me. Like maybe he loves me, too, and this isn’t temporary at all.
“I’m serious. I’d prefer to be your partner on ops, but if that’s not always possible, I need to be able to find you.”
I rest my forehead against his and inhale deeply. There’s no cologne, not even a trace of soap smell. It’s all Fisher. My fingers scrape along his unruly beard as warm sensations unfurl within my chest. And when I pull back and look into his eyes, that thought, “I love you,” returns.
“Military couples survive with one person away on a mission. We can, too.”
“Mmm…true. But we’re not a military couple. The CIA can benefit from couples. They have plenty of officers pose, like us.”
“You’re serious about this?”
He takes my hand and flattens it against his chest and covers it with his own. “Sophia, I’ve never been more serious in my life. About this. About you. I love you. And if I’ve hesitated at all in telling you that, it’s only been for self-preservation.”
My chest quivers and I suck in air.
“But the only way I can do this is if you’re all in. You can’t shut me out. If we’re going to be together, you’ve got to let me in. Your side project. Your life. I don’t need to run things, but I need to be by your side, as a teammate. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.”
“Crazy?” Yes, it’s a lame response, but he’s taken my breath, my words.
His lips press against mine. Softly, once, twice. Then harder. His tongue slips between my lips, and I curl against him, welcoming the comfort and the warmth.
He breaks the kiss, and his palm cups my chin. “You are remarkable. Determined, capable, intelligent, driven. You’ve had my respect since the first month I met you, and you defined your boundaries and worked hard at overcoming the shit that happened to you.” His chest rises as he inhales deeply. “I can’t tell you exactly when I fell in love, but I can tell you that I’ve never felt what I feel for you for anyone else. I’m not an expert on relationships. Sure, I’ve had them before, but never one that lasted. And the cards are stacked against us. Your family, our careers, our backgrounds…none of it’s ideal. But I want to be there for you, with you, for as long as I can be. When I met you, my future was my career. You’ve flipped it. Now, I don’t care about a future unless you’re in it.” He dips his head and presses his forehead against mine, skin to skin, noses side by side. “But you have to let me in. Otherwise, I’ll lose my sanity.”
I push back, just a few inches, enough that I can look him in the eye, sniffle, and hate that I do, because it comes across as weak. “I don’t have a choice about letting you in. You’re already in here.” I pat my chest, and he raises an eyebrow. An argumentative eyebrow. “I’ll tell you everything. All my theories.” I let out a sigh. “My work that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. But I don’t need for you to protect me.”
“I know.” He breathes out the admission, but those dark eyes drill deep. “You’re skilled. Trained. I get all of that. But sharing the load strengthens us. That’s why teams are stronger. It’s not that any one man can’t do it alone, but we’re a helluva lot stronger as a team.”
His long fingers curve around the back of my neck, below my hair, and I close my eyes, leaning against him. A calm washes over me, settling the emotional tidal wave. A sense of peace drifts through in its wake.
“I didn’t try to do today on my own.”
“I know.”
“I love you too.” Those dark eyes take me in, and I swear, his warmth penetrates my heart. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.” It’s something that’s probably obvious, but at the same time, I need him to understand I don’t say those words lightly.
His large palm cups the side of my head and brings it down to his shoulder. The beat of his heart vibrates through me, soothing me. I nuzzle his neck, breathing in his musky scent, while holding on tight.
He drops his lips to mine. The deep, sensual kiss is like a match to tinder. I twist in his lap to deepen our connection and straddle him. His fingers glide up my back, finding the skin below my shirt, the touch sending the small hairs along my arms rising to the sky. I grind against him, earning a low moan as we kiss. Need grows deep within me. He tugs at my shirt, and I dutifully lift my arms. It’s up and over my head, thrown somewhere behind me, and his teeth graze my neck. His hands cup my breasts, lifting them to his mouth, and sucks on my nipple. I let out a loud groan. I tug on his shirt, wanting it off, needing skin on skin.
