Georgetown

December 2016

If it was nine a.m. here, then it was six thirty p.m. in Afghanistan, which meant maybe I was actually eating at the same time Nate was. Of course, he’d be having dinner, and I was fiddling around with a stack of pancakes, but still, it was kind of like we were eating together.

“Which is why she’s specializing in charity work. Aren’t you, Izzy?” Serena’s tone demanded my attention.

I blinked, looking up from my breakfast plate, and found Serena arching an eyebrow at me from across the diner table.

“Right. Yes. Exactly,” I agreed. This was supposed to be a double date, and I wasn’t holding up my end of the deal. I glanced from Serena’s current boyfriend, Ramon, to the friend he’d brought for me.

Shit. What was his name? Sam? Sandy? Shane? Something with an S. It wasn’t that he wasn’t cute. He had nice brown eyes, smooth bronzed skin, and a handsome smile. It was just . . .

I was hopeless.

“I love that you’re focused on charity,” he said, offering me a toothy smile.

“And you?” See? I could keep the conversation going. His dark brows knit. “I’m in tech, remember?”

Serena kicked me under the table.

“Of course!” I shot my sister a glare. “I just meant where you saw yourself taking your career in that particular industry.”

“Oh.” He smiled again. “I’m really focusing on the financial market, and how to make banking more accessible in remote locations . . .”

Remote locations like where Nate was. My thoughts drowned out his monologue.

God, what was wrong with me? It had been months since I’d been able to maintain a relationship, and here I was again, choosing the thought of Nate over an actual guy. Maybe that was what had gone wrong with Nate’s last relationship too. He’d been seeing someone for a couple of months there, and for a minute, I’d wondered if we’d actually take the trip we’d booked to Fiji in June. And fine, I’d been jealous too. Super healthy.

Our letters had shifted to emails in the eighteen months it had been since I’d seen him, and even those had been less frequent since he’d deployed yet again. I’d lost track of which number this was.

My phone buzzed on the table, and Serena tilted her head at me as I picked it up to check for a text. Nope, just an email. I had Google Alerts set up to send once a week, and it was just this week’s articles.

But it wasn’t. My heart stumbled at the subject line. Nathaniel Phelan.

I stopped breathing and stabbed at the smooth surface of the phone like it would make the application open faster. He was fine. He had to be fine. Him not being fine wasn’t an option. And yet I couldn’t breathe.

As I clicked the link, a dull roar filled my ears as an obituary site loaded.

No.

My world couldn’t exist without him in it somewhere.

I blinked as the article appeared. Alice Marie Phelan. I skimmed the obituary, my stomach lurching three-quarters through. Survived by her husband David and only son, Nathaniel.

Nate’s mom died. According to the obituary, her funeral, a graveside service, was at four p.m. today.

He was going to be devastated.

“I have to go.” I grabbed a twenty out of my purse and threw it on the table, already running for the door before Serena could even call my name.

At 3:44 p.m. that afternoon, I stumbled out of the car I’d rented at the smallest airport I’d ever seen and popped open the umbrella I’d brought with me. I’d only had an hour to get changed in the only available hotel room in town—which had also been the most expensive—but at least I’d had a black dress in my closet ready to pack in my carry-on. Getting a flight out? Now that had been . . . tricky. But I’d made it.

I would have thought that December in Illinois meant snow, but freezing-cold rain pelted the umbrella as I rounded the front of the sedan and stepped into the cemetery. My heart pounded as I headed for the small crowd gathered nearby, my heels sticking into the brown grass with every step.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fumbled getting it out of my jacket. A text previewed on the screen.

She chose now to be concerned?

I shook my head and shoved my phone back into my pocket.

People moved forward, and I followed the sea of umbrellas, eventually reaching the back row of what looked to be a split configuration of about three dozen folding chairs set up at the edge of the last row of tombstones.

I glimpsed brightly colored wreaths and an elevated closed casket under a wide green canopy ahead of the chairs as the crowd continued to shuffle its way down the aisle, some taking seats on either side and some continuing on, only to turn at the end and loop back around.

They were paying their respects to the family.

My stomach churned with nausea, and I strangled the umbrella handle as I considered for the first time that I might have made a mistake. I’d been so concerned with trying to get here in time that I hadn’t considered that maybe I shouldn’t be here.

There was every chance Nate wouldn’t want me here, every chance that he already had someone here. It wasn’t like he’d called me.

Or maybe Nate himself wouldn’t be here, and I was walking into a crowd of complete strangers.

Either way, I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.

Maybe just picking a seat was my best option.

My pocket buzzed again, and I yanked my phone free. Another text came across the home screen.

I typed out a quick response.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and hoped that would be enough to keep her from freaking out.

“Damn shame,” a woman behind me said. “Alice really was an angel.” “That curve has always been dangerous. Carl told me the tire tracks showed the Marshall boy was on her side of the road,” another added, her voice lowering as we passed the third row of water-covered seats. “Hit her

head on.”

She’d been killed in a car accident.

“Look at those two,” the first woman said with a sigh. “They can’t even stand next to each other up there.”

I glanced over my shoulder as discreetly as possible and saw a woman with a lone streak of gray in her auburn hair leaning to the right and looking past me.

“You and I both know that boy hasn’t been home since he left for the army,” the friend responded. “Always was a wild one.”

“Can you blame him after the way David . . .” She trailed off. “Well, none of us really did anything for him, did we?”

I leaned to the right, searching past the half-dozen people ahead of me. And I saw him.

My chest threatened to cave in, but I forced myself to breathe. Nate stood stoically at the edge of the canopy at the end of the aisle, rain falling ceaselessly, soaking into his hair and black trench coat. He nodded at something the woman in front of him said, then shook the next man’s hand as she moved on, turning to the left to do the same with someone I couldn’t see.

I couldn’t take my eyes off his profile as the line moved steadily onward. He showed no emotion as he greeted each person with the same robotic motions, his head forward, and the vacant expression on his face physically hurt my heart.

The older man ahead of me turned to Nate. “I’m sorry for your loss, son. Your mother was a gem.”

“Thank you,” Nate answered, shaking the man’s hand, but there was no intonation in his voice, no life.

The man turned across the aisle, and I stepped forward into the place he’d vacated, tilting my umbrella backward as I looked up to Nate.

“Isabeau?” His red-rimmed eyes flared as they locked with mine.

“I’m so sorry about your mom, Nate.” I lifted my umbrella to cover both of us.

He stared at me in silence for the span of a lengthy heartbeat, then reached for me and tugged me close. His arms banded around my back, and I felt the strain in every tense line of his body as my cheek rested against the chilled, wet lapel of his coat.

“I came as soon as I knew,” I whispered.

He must have dipped down, because I felt his chin bob against the top of my head, in front of where I’d pinned my french twist into place. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you after,” I promised.

“Stay.” His arms loosened, and when I moved to step back, he caught my free hand and pulled me to his left side, clasping his frozen fingers with mine before greeting the next mourner.

I held the umbrella over him the best I could. There were only a few people left, but I offered them each what I hoped was an appropriate nod of thanks as they offered condolences for a woman I’d never met.

A woman Nate had loved wholeheartedly.

The last of the crowd passed through as the minister took his place under the canopy, and I faced a man I didn’t need to meet in order to know he was Nate’s father.

Nate was a few inches taller, but they had the same nose, the same facial structure, and even though his eyes were darker than Nate’s, they were infinitely colder as his gaze narrowed on me.

“If we could all be seated,” the minister said. “We’ll start in just a few minutes.”

Nate put himself between his father and me, then took the aisle seat, cringing when I sat on the metal chair next to his. “I’m sorry. You have to be freezing.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Water soaked into my wool coat as I shuffled the umbrella, trying to keep him covered. He reached across my lap for my hand, and I gave it, holding him tight.

“They only had one canopy,” he said, facing the minister. “And I thought she should be the one covered.”

“You did great.” I rubbed my thumb over his frigid skin, wishing I had another way to warm him.

“How did you know?” He glanced my way.

“I set up a Google Alert for your name,” I admitted. “But I set it for weekly. I should have set it to daily, and then I would have known sooner. I would have been here sooner.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” He squeezed my hand. “And if I’d been able to think about . . . anything for the past week, I probably would have called you, but I don’t think I realized how much I wanted you here until I saw you.” His gaze shifted forward to the casket. “She was in a car accident and died instantly.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “So it’s good that she wasn’t in pain.”

“It is,” I agreed, unsure of what to say, or why the chairs beside me were empty. “But I’m still sorry you lost her.”

“I can’t talk about her. Not up there. Not anywhere. I just can’t.” “So don’t.”

He nodded, and the service began.

It felt short, but I only had my grandparents’ to compare it to. Nate’s aunts spoke, and his father recited a verse, but Nate shook his head when the minister looked his way. The wind picked up, numbing my face as the service drew to its conclusion.

I stood when Nate did. Moved when he did.

Went wherever he did.

It was just us and the people I assumed were immediate family by the time the grounds crew was ready to lower Nate’s mom into the ground.

Nate’s body stiffened as his father approached us next to the casket.

“We’re going to have to talk about the farm.” His father planted his feet in front of Nate and leaned in. “No more avoiding me, boy.”

His tone told me everything I needed to know about their relationship.

“Is there anything you’re scared of? There has to be something, right?”

“Sure. Becoming anything like my father.”

Wasn’t that what Nate had said that day on the beach?

Nate let go of my hand and lifted his arm in front of me, gently pushing me backward.

“Now isn’t the time, David,” one of the aunts said, the older woman snapping her umbrella closed now that the rain had passed. Her hair was black like Nate’s, and the set of her shoulders told me she wasn’t a fan of Nate’s dad.

I lowered my umbrella, too, pressing the button to close it as the tension thickened.

“When else are we supposed to talk about it?” Nate’s dad snapped. “He hasn’t said a single word to me since he got home, and we all know he’s headed back to Afghanistan tomorrow. Are we going to talk then?”

Tomorrow? My heart sank.

“It’s no secret that she left the farm to him,” his other aunt said, coming to stand next to her sister. “We’ve all seen the will.”

“It should be mine,” his father argued, but Nate didn’t move a muscle. “I was her husband.” When he couldn’t provoke a reaction from Nate, he turned to me. “Maybe your pretty little girlfr—”

“Don’t fucking talk to her.” Nate took a step forward, simultaneously urging me farther back.

Oh shit. In all my years of knowing Nate, I’d never seen him angry.

“He speaks!” His father threw his hands up like he was thanking God. “You ready to talk about the farm now? It’s been my home far longer than yours.”

“I have nothing else to say to you.” Nate backed up, his arm still extended in front of me, keeping a barrier between his dad and me.

“Or you could just run away like you always do!” “David!” one of the aunts chided.

“Just stop into the goddamn lawyer’s office and sign the deed over to me,” his dad commanded, his voice icier than the weather. “It’s the least you can do after not bothering to come home and visit her for the last five years.”

I gasped.

“Izzy, I’m going to need you to step back,” Nate warned, in a low, lethal tone I’d never heard before.

“Nate?” There had to be a way to postpone whatever confrontation was looming until they buried his mother, wasn’t there?

“Please.” He didn’t take his eyes off his father.

I did as he asked, retreating a handful of steps for that very reason. If Nate wouldn’t look away from his father, it meant he’d been given grounds not to in the past.

“So nice to everyone but your own damned family.” His father glared at Nate. “Just sign the deed and go back to your new and better life. We both know you don’t want it, and you sure as hell can’t run it.”

“You’re right. I don’t want it. But I’m not signing the farm over to you,” Nate replied, his arms loose at his sides.

“So you’re just going to kick me out?” Nate shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Color flushed his father’s cheeks.

“It means that you can live in it for now.” Nate shrugged.

“For now?” His brow furrowed, and his hands curled into fists. My pulse jumped.

“For months. For years. Who knows. But one day I’ll sell it.” Nate’s voice lowered, and even the groundskeepers stopped what they were doing to watch. “And I won’t tell you, won’t warn you.” He shook his head. “No, I want you scared. I want you to wake up every single day and wonder, worry, if today is the day that what you did to her comes back to haunt you. I want you just as anxious as she was every single night, waiting to see what kind of mood you’d be in when you got home, waiting to see if she’d be your punching bag or if you’d reach for me.”

My stomach fell to the ground. Nate had boarded our flight with a split lip four years ago. What had he said about the wound? About the split knuckles?

It won’t exactly be the first time someone has swung for me, and at least this time I’ll be armed. He’d been talking about his father.

“And my biggest regret isn’t that I didn’t come home to visit,” Nate continued. “She knew I’d sworn to never breathe the same air as you ever again. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t get her to leave, too, no matter how hard I tried.”

“You little shit.” His father lunged, and before I could shout, Nate caught the fist swinging in his direction.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to hit me now.” Nate’s knuckles turned white, and his father yelped, yanking his fist out of Nate’s grip. “I’m not a scrawny teenager anymore. I’ve spent years ending bullies just like you. You can’t scare me anymore.”

His father’s eyes widened as he cradled his hand, backing away from Nate slowly. “You’ll regret that.” The frost in his voice made me shiver.

“I doubt it.”

“You want to swing on me, don’t you, boy?” A corner of his mouth twisted.

“Yes.” Nate’s arms fell to his sides. “But I’m not going to. That’s the difference between you and me.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Nate’s father spat on the ground, then turned and stalked away, heading for a blue F-150 parked along the curb.

Holy shit. This was how Nate grew up, and somehow he’d turned out like . . . Nate.

He pivoted slowly to face me, and for a second, I didn’t recognize him. This man wasn’t the Nathaniel I knew. I had no doubt that the man in front of me had been to war, that he’d seen things, done things, I’d never fully understand.

And yet, I wasn’t scared of him.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

I nodded, and his hand gentled as he set it on the small of my back. We walked silently to the sedan I’d rented, because for once, I was at a loss for words. There was a tension in him, a restlessness I didn’t know what to do with. I was out of my depth.

My phone buzzed rhythmically, and I reached for it out of habit, but my fingers were stiff with cold, and I accidentally answered and managed to hit the speakerphone instead of end. “Mom, I’ll call you—”

“Tell me you did not leave a date with a promising tech developer to chase after that soldier, Isa, or so help me—”

I stabbed at the screen, taking the call off speaker, and I lifted the phone to my ear. “Mom! I will call you later.” My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Nate heard that.

“You’re showing a serious lack of judgment with your choices.”

“They’re my choices to make. I’ll call you when I’m back in DC.” I hit the end button with more aggression than necessary and chanced a look up at Nate. “I’m so sorry. She’s . . . my mother.”

His jaw flexed. “Nothing to be sorry for. She didn’t say anything about me that isn’t true.”

“She doesn’t even know you,” I argued as we reached the car and I traded my phone for the car keys.

“Where are you staying?” he asked, then scoffed. “I don’t know why I asked. There’s only one hotel in town.”

“I’m in the presidential suite,” I answered, opening the door I hadn’t bothered to lock. “It was all they had left.”

His tan jaw flexed as he nodded.

God, my entire body, as cold and waterlogged as it was, hurt for him. “I can stay.”

He looked back at the grave site. “No. I’m thankful you’re here. Really, I am. But I just want to be alone with her for a little while.” His mouth twisted in a grimace. “If I can get my aunts to leave.”

“Okay.”

“I hate that you saw that.” He wouldn’t look at me.

“I hate that you went through it.” His coat was soaked through as I reached for his forearm, desperate to touch him, to comfort him in any way I could. “Tell me what you need, Nate.”

“If I figure it out, I’ll let you know, Izzy.” He walked away, and I let

him.

I tied the belt on my robe, then ran my brush through my wet hair as I walked back into the bedroom of my hotel suite, finally warm enough to feel my toes.

Serena had already called to apologize for accidentally telling Mom about my hasty exit at breakfast, but I wasn’t mad at her. My mother? That was a whole other story. It felt like she’d kicked Nate when he was already down, though I knew she’d been aiming for me.

There were no words for the way my chest ached for everything Nate had been through today, and my utter, complete uselessness to save him from any of it. Not the loss of his mother. Not the cruelty of his father.

I sat on the edge of the bed and checked my phone, hoping for a text or a missed call, some sign that he wasn’t going to spend tonight alone, when his emotions had obviously been flayed open and left bleeding. A sigh ripped through my lips at the blank screen, and I swallowed the knot in my throat that instantly formed at the idea of him spending the night with another woman.

Get over yourself. He wasn’t mine. Not like that. And I could hardly begrudge him any measure of comfort he could find. I put my brush on the nightstand, next to my ADHD medication, then picked up what was left of my room service tray from the polished expanse of the dining table. I’d devoured the cheeseburger the second my meds wore off about two hours ago. Opening my door, I set the tray down in the hallway and moved quickly to get back into my room so I wasn’t seen out in just the thigh-high robe, but the ding of the elevator down the hall caught my attention.

Nate stepped out of the elevator into the hallway, shoving his hands through his wet hair, still dressed in his suit from the funeral.

Our eyes met and held as he came my way, his strides eating up the distance between us with single-minded focus. My pulse jumped into a thundering beat. The hours we’d been apart hadn’t done anything to quell the restlessness in him. He still walked that dangerous edge between whoever he’d been when he lived here, and whoever he was now . . . whoever the constant deployments were turning him into.

And in the seconds it took for him to reach me, I realized it didn’t matter which version of him I was getting. I was inextricably linked to every single one of them. The guy he’d been when he lived here had been the one who’d pulled me from the plane crash. The one he’d grown into had knocked me off my feet in Georgia. And the man he was now . . . the one who made my heart simultaneously race and yearn for him—

Oh, God.

That feeling in my chest . . . I was in love with him.

And he was going back to Afghanistan tomorrow.

My feet shuffled backward into my room, but I held the door open for him, and he followed me in, smelling like rain and the faint remains of his cologne.

“I need . . .” He turned toward me as I closed the door, and the turmoil in his crystal-blue eyes nearly brought me to my knees. “I just need you.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“Izzy.” It was both a plea and a warning as he scanned the length of my body and shifted his weight. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable; it was the same way he’d looked at me on my birthday last year. “I don’t think you understand—”

“I know what you’re saying,” I whispered.

Our eyes locked, and a second later, my back was against the door, and Nate’s mouth fused with mine.

He tasted the same, but the kiss was nothing like the ones we’d shared before. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, like every problem he faced could be forgotten if he simply lost himself within me. I kissed him back just as hard, showing him I could take whatever he wanted—needed—to give.

He’d never hurt me, nor would he ever push me any further than I already wanted to go.

And I wanted him.

His lips were chilled but his tongue warm as it twined with mine. All of him was cold and wet, his clothes no doubt soaked all the way through to his skin. His hands skimmed the outside of my robe, and then he gripped the backs of my thighs, lifting me against the door so our mouths were level.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on, winding my arms around his neck as he kissed me harder, deeper. Rainwater dripped from his hair and down his cheeks, but that didn’t stop us. My teeth scraped his lower lip, and when he moved to draw back, I sucked his tongue back into my mouth and relished in the groan that rumbled through his chest.

Need raced through my veins like lava, flushing and heating my skin

—even my thighs, which took the brunt of the cold from his sodden suit.

He shifted, carrying me without breaking the kiss as he crossed the suite. But he didn’t take me to the bedroom. My ass hit the dining room table as I fought with the wet fabric of his tie, finally loosening the knot enough to get it over his head. I shoved the wet jacket from his shoulders next, and it hit the floor with a thwack.

“Drop your legs,” he ordered between deep, drugging kisses.

I unhooked my ankles and let my legs dangle over the edge of the table.

“Perfect.” His hands stroked up my thighs, under the cloth of my robe, and my stomach fluttered. I knew exactly what he could do with those hands, those very talented fingers, and I was more than ready.

But the touch I so sorely wanted didn’t come.

I unbuttoned his shirt with fumbling fingers, too eager to keep my mouth on his to bother looking at what I was doing. After finally undoing the last one, I tugged the shirt free from his pants and somehow managed to unfasten the buttons at his wrists while his hands kneaded my thighs. He kissed my mouth, my cheeks, my neck, while I tugged the reluctant, clinging fabric of his shirt from his body.

Then I pulled back and looked at him.

“Nate,” I whispered, awestruck by the body he’d honed to utter perfection. He’d put on muscle over the last eighteen months, his torso still carved, his abs still ridged to mouthwatering magnificence, but now there was simply more of him. The deep fuck-me lines that ran down the edges of his stomach begged to be traced by my tongue. I jerked my gaze up to his. “You’re incredible.”

“You’re all I want.” He cupped the back of my neck. “It doesn’t matter how far I go or how long I’m away. I dream about you. Even when I know you’re with someone else—”

“I’m not,” I assured him, shaking my head.

“Or when I’m with someone else—” he continued, and my heart stuttered.

“Are you?” I leaned away, bracing my palms against the table as I waited for my heart to beat regularly again. He wasn’t mine. I wasn’t his. That was the agreement we’d made.

And yet he was always mine. I was always his.

“No. Not in over six months.” He looked at me, and for a heartbeat, I cursed this bond between us, the irrational jealousy that had gripped my stomach when I’d read that particular letter about the woman he’d been seeing. “But even then, as much as it makes me an asshole to admit it, you were all I wanted, Izzy.”

“I know.” I nodded. “It’s the same for me.”

He crushed my mouth to his, the kiss softer than before, but just as deep, just as powerful. It robbed me of my breath, my thoughts, and any inhibitions that might have lingered.

Then he leaned over me, lowering me until my back rested on the table.

“I want to see you,” he said before kissing me again.

My hands found the belt of my robe, and I tugged, letting it fall open, just like the first time he’d put his hands on me.

He lifted his head, and his gaze roamed my naked body, lingering on the parts he’d never seen before. “Holy shit are you just . . . perfect.”

“You said that last time.” I grinned and tried not to fidget under the heat of his gaze.

“Nothing’s changed.” His eyes met mine, and the need I saw there made me melt, relaxing completely on the table. “I’m going to kiss you, Isabeau Astor.”

I smiled even wider. “You’ve said that before too.”

“Yeah. I know.” He flashed a smile, and his dimple appeared for a second before he grasped my shins, then bent my knees as he put my feet on the edge of the table and spread my thighs wide enough for his shoulders to—

Oh God.

I sucked in a breath as he set his mouth on me, skimming his tongue over my entrance and up to my clit. It felt so damned good that all I could do was cry out, my hands grasping at his head to pull him closer.

“You taste like heaven,” he said, and I lifted my head long enough to lock eyes with him as he lowered his mouth again, sending a bolt of pure pleasure spiraling through me.

He was the hottest man I’d ever seen, and he was mine to touch tonight.

My head fell back as sensation ruled my body. Every lick of his tongue made my back arch. Every time he sucked my clit between his lips, I trembled. When his fingers slid inside me, first one, then two, I couldn’t help but rock back against him, seeking more, demanding it with my moans.

He pinned my hips to the table with his forearm so I could only take what he wanted to give, and then he drove me toward madness. He teased when I wanted him to take. He flicked when I wanted him to linger. He took me to the edge of orgasm, when I could almost taste how sweet that release would be, only to lessen the pressure before I tumbled over.

“Nate!” I tugged on his head as the delicious torture began again.

“What do you need, Izzy?” he asked, blowing softly against my heated

skin.

I gasped, my back bowing. “I need you!” In every way possible. It was

the closest I could come to letting him know how I felt.

“Like you’ll scream if you can’t have me?” He flicked his tongue over my clit.

“Yes!”

“Like you’ll die if you have to take one more breath without me inside you?” He looked up at me, his eyes holding me as a willing prisoner.

“Yes.” It was a whisper.

He nodded. “Good. Because that’s exactly how I need you.” He lowered his head between my thighs, and the world around us disappeared. There was only his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, building my pleasure with expert care, coiling that exquisite pressure in my stomach until my entire body went taut.

Then I snapped, release rushing through me with so much power that I screamed. It could have been words. Maybe his name. Maybe just a cry. Noises were a dull roar around me as wave after wave arched my back, and before I realized what was happening, that pressure coiled again as he worked me right to the brink of a second.

“You!” I demanded, my nails raking through his hair. “I want you, Nate.”

He dragged my body to the very edge of the table. I vaguely heard the sound of a buckle, the rip of foil, and then the thick head of him was right there at my entrance.

His hand braced his weight beside my head, and he rose over me, his beautiful face hovering just above mine. “Tell me this is what you really want.”

“I already said I do.” I cradled his cheeks, memorized everything about the way he looked right now. His blue eyes were crystal clear, his pupils near blown, his cheeks flush with color. And he was right . . . I would die if I had to take another breath without feeling him inside me.

“Say it again.” His jaw flexed, and his hand gripped my hip.

“I want you, Nathaniel,” I whispered, leaning up to kiss him. “So take

me.”

He held my gaze as if there was any chance I’d change my mind, and

then he pushed in, and in, and in, consuming every inch of my body, and

then demanding more, until there was no me. No him. Only us.

He stretched me to my limit, and we both moaned.

He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t need to, not when I rocked my hips against his and kissed him. I was more than okay. I was fucking fabulous.

His hips withdrew until he was almost entirely out of me, and then he drove back in, and I cried out, my arms wrapping around him as he started a brutal, perfect rhythm of slow, hard thrusts.

“We. Should. Move. To. The. Bed.” His words were punctuated with each swing of his hips.

“Bed later. Harder now.” It was all I could say. He’d robbed me of all the other words that weren’t his name.

“We can do this again, right?” he asked against my mouth. “Not just on the table.”

“As many times as you can take.” How he could string together a coherent thought was beyond me. I locked my ankles around the small of his back and rocked up, meeting every thrust.

“Challenge accepted.” He grinned, and his dimple appeared. My heart jolted with how much I loved this man.

He kissed me deep, his tongue rubbing against mine with the same rhythm as his body took mine, driving me toward another release. We strained and gasped. We came together again, and again, and again, and somehow each time he slid home was better than the last, until my body teetered on the edge of an abyss, strung so tight that my breath came in little keening pants against his lips.

“Fuck, you feel so damned good,” he said, his breathing just as ragged as mine. “I’m never going to get enough of you. The way you squeeze me. The way your skin feels against mine. The way your eyes darken. Yes, just. Like. That.”

He reached between our bodies and gave me exactly what I needed, sending me hurtling into oblivion with the next thrust.

I came apart, unraveled, and was remade all within the same breath, with his name on my lips and his back beneath my fingers. The high was incomprehensible, unfathomable, indescribable, and all I could do was ride the waves as his hips swung wildly, chasing his own release as I found mine.

He shuddered above me and came with a shout of his own, catching his weight before he even had the chance to crush me once it was over.

We stared at each other, neither of us able to catch our breaths. Both watching the other as though they held the key to the very universe. Slowly, I fell back into my body and let my ankles fall from his back.

“As many times as I can take,” he said, his mouth curving into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. “That’s what you said, right?”

I nodded.

“All we have is tonight.” His brow furrowed, and I knew what he was saying.

This didn’t change things. Our timing still wasn’t right. He was going back to his unit tomorrow, and I was flying back to DC.

“Then we’d better make it count.” I stroked my fingers over his cheek. We did.

But I still cried when I boarded my flight the next day.