Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I stilled suddenly on his chest. I looked up, meeting his dark eyes for the first time since we'd entered my apartment. His gaze held mine, steady despite the pain I knew coursed through him.
"I've decided to keep you," I announced, the words coming out blunter than intended, but no less true for their lack of finesse. "But if you ever lie to me again, I'll cut your balls off and feed them to you."
Rocky blinked once, twice, his expression shifting from surprise to warm humor. Then to an almost tender expression. The corner of his mouth quirked up, half-amused, half-serious as he nodded. "No more lies," he promised, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest beneath my palm. "Not ever. Not for any reason."
I searched his face for any hint of deception, any crack in his sincerity, but found none. Just exhaustion, pain, and what that looked remarkably like devotion shining in those dark eyes.
"Good," I said finally, my voice softer than I'd meant it to be. "Because I'm not going through this bullshit again. One heart-shredding betrayal per relationship is my fucking limit."
The tension between us shifted, electric and heavy. Rocky reached up with his good arm, his hand cupping my face with heart melting gentleness that made. His thumb traced my bottom lip, the callused pad rough against sensitive skin.
"I love you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "Have since I first saw you."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight. Before I could find the words to respond, he pulled me toward him, capturing my mouth in a kiss that started gentle but quickly caught fire. His lips moved against mine with hunger and reverence, and I melted into him, careful of his injured arm even as my body pressed closer.
The world narrowed to just this. His mouth on mine, his hand tangled in my hair, the solid beat of his heart beneath my palm. Whatever came next, whatever complications awaited us with Ghost and Vittorio and the aftermath of tonight's raid, none of it mattered in this moment. We had survived. We had found each other. And I had absolutely no intention of letting him go.
I pulled back from our kiss just enough to breathe, my lips still tingling from the pressure of his. His eyes, heavy-lidded but intense, held mine as I stood, taking his good hand in mine. "Come on," I said, voice rough with want. "Not doing this on my couch when I've got a perfectly good bed." I tugged gently, mindful of his injury as he stood. His height made me tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, and something in his gaze, open and unguarded, sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with… love.
My bedroom looked exactly as I'd left it that morning. My unmade bed, the purple sheets tangled from my restless night of worry, clothes scattered across the floor, all testament to my distress during the hours he’d been gone.
I guided him to the edge of the bed, easing him down onto the surface. The soft, morning sunlight filtering through my half-drawn blinds cast stripes across his skin, highlighting the contours of muscle and the shadows of old scars and new bruises. His bandaged arm stood out starkly against his tanned skin.
"Let me," I murmured when he reached for his belt with his good hand. I knelt between his legs, fingers working his belt buckle, then the button of his jeans. He lifted his hips to help as I tugged them down, my palms skimming his thighs.
Our first time together had been frantic, desperate—all clashing teeth and grasping hands and clothes half-torn off in the heat of the moment. Our second hadn't been much different, raw with the emotional aftermath of betrayal and a sort of truce.
This felt different. Deliberate. Like we had all the time in the world. Like a “happy ever after” might actually be possible.
I stood, pulling my T-shirt over my head and shimmying out of my jeans. Rocky's eyes tracked my movements, hungry but patient, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of my hip as I stepped between his spread legs.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.
"You're not so bad yourself," I replied, running my fingers through his hair. "You know, for an undercover cop or spy or whatever the fuck you are."
He smiled, that rare, genuine smile that transformed his whole face. "I just do what Tori tells me to. And I think we've established I'm whatever you want me to be. However you’ll have me."
"Just be you," I whispered, bending to press my lips to his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. "That's always going to be enough."