Chapter 22
In all the years of wanting this, I’d never once thought I’d actually wake up with Mallory Monroe in my arms. And yet, there she was.
Long legs tangled with mine. Hand gently curled on top of my bare chest. Full lips parted just slightly, making her look more defenseless than I’d ever seen her before.
Not that I’d never seen her sleep. There’d been plenty of missions where we’d slept by each other, and other nights where I’d struggled to focus on our surroundings instead of her when it was my turn for watch.
There were even more nights where we’d fallen asleep near each other on my couch, but never like this.
But with every one of those nights, she’d been tense. Ready for anything.
This Mallory was different.
This Mallory—
My head slanted as I caught sight of something wholly unexpected, my hand slowly moving toward the object as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
Being mindful not to wake her, I carefully hooked my finger around the thin gold chain she’d been wearing for months now, and lifted the attached object that had slid free from her shirt.
A gold band.
Identical to the one I’d spent too many minutes and hours gripping over the past three months, all while it’d felt like my world was crumbling around me. And she’d been wearing this around her neck the entire time.
This Mallory was full of surprises.
“That’s private,” she whispered, her voice soft and husky from sleep.
My gaze darted to her, taking in her peaceful features and the slow, even rise and fall of her chest. Her words were the only indication she was awake.
“I can see that,” I mumbled as I spun the ring between my fingers before gently laying it down. “All this time?”
She hummed in acknowledgment, but didn’t otherwise answer. Still, the worry and wonder that poured from her was so potent, it was as if she’d voiced them.
“Mine goes where I go,” I answered her unspoken question as I began trailing my fingers up and down her back.
At that, she tipped her head up, her chin resting on my shoulder as she searched my eyes. All that curiosity and vulnerability bleeding into hers as she waited for me to explain.
“It’s in my truck because I’m not home.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “And if you’re home?”
“I’m usually gripping it like a lifeline,” I told her honestly. “Trying to figure out what to do. Trying to remember. Trying to hold onto the only part of you I had.”
Her head moved in as much of a nod as she could manage in her position. “I, uh . . . I found a picture. Of us.”
My hand stopped just as I began making my path up her back. “Of—in Aruba?” I clarified.
She swallowed thickly as she adjusted herself, pushing up just slightly and somehow making it so that she was lying even more fully on me.
“Yeah, we, uh . . . we must’ve just eloped.
” Before I could ask how she gathered that, she explained, “I’m holding my hand up and wearing the ring.
You’re kissing me.” Her head tilted. “Well, the corner of my mouth.”
“Can I see it?” I found myself asking, desperate for this new piece of that night.
A humming sound of confirmation built in her throat. “I stared at that picture for hours. Every day.” The confession came out hushed, almost ashamed. Her stare had fallen as she’d spoken, but that didn’t take away my view of her or her slightly darkening cheeks.
When I spoke, my voice was a wry rumble. “Is that right?”
Her eyes rolled. “Don’t go reading into it.”
“Oh, I’m reading into it, Peach.”
A deep sigh left her as she planted her hands on my chest, forcefully pressing all her weight there and pushing a wheezed laugh from my lungs as she prepared to climb over me.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I twisted us so we were lying side by side, facing each other, and felt the corner of my mouth tick up because she’d let me move her. She could’ve easily fought against me and maybe even succeeded in getting off the couch, but she’d allowed the movements.
Not only allowed them, she’d melted into them.
This Mallory . . .
“I need to go,” she said in a way that let me know she was perfectly content to stay right there.
I just nodded as my hand trailed up higher and higher until I was tracing her jaw with my fingers and savoring that nearly inaudible inhale that was sure to be my ruin.
Openly loving each other might be new territory for Mallory and me, but I still knew her. I knew she was addicted to her routines, just as I knew she didn’t need to look at a clock to know the general time.
Just another thing her dad had ingrained in her.
Cradling her cheek in my hand, I slowly passed my thumb across her bottom lip as I asked, “We going for a run, or getting ready for work?”
“I need to go for a short run,” she said, putting the slightest emphasis on the first word, even as she shifted deeper into the couch, into me. “You need to go to your own apartment and get ready.”
I tipped my head closer, holding her stare as I rumbled, “Or we could stay. Delay the morning for a little while longer.”
Her eyes widened in something like realization, stopping me before my lips could capture hers. Because it wasn’t just understanding in her dark blue eyes, it was longing and desire, unease and worry.
“Mallory,” I began, leaning back just enough to better study her expression, “that isn’t what I meant. Married or not, we won’t sleep together until you’re ready. And even when you are, I assure you, the first time I sleep with you won’t be on a couch.”
If I hadn’t been so close, if it hadn’t been Mallory, I might not have noticed the initial clash of relief and insecurity that swept across her features, only to immediately be replaced with shame and panic.
Panic that twisted through my chest and gripped my heart when she tried to hide it behind all those walls before her expression abruptly fell.
Full lips slightly parted. Eyes wide and vacant, as if she was seeing something that wasn’t here.
And it felt like I couldn’t breathe because there was no logical explanation for her reaction.
Mallory didn’t panic. Not only that, but panic wasn’t an emotion that should pour from anyone being told they weren’t going to be pressured into sleeping with someone.
“Mallory—” I choked on her name, on the plea twisting up my throat, as the black hole of a night that was Aruba ripped through my mind.
Pushing onto my elbow, my hand fell from where I’d still been cradling her face as denials swirled and that grip on my heart turned lethal.
It felt like my pulse was racing, and yet, each sluggish, pained thump of my heart felt like more of a struggle than the one before it as I searched her blank stare.
No, no, no.
I wouldn’t have.
Married or not, I wouldn’t have. Not when we were both black-out drunk. Especially when it was the woman I’d been waiting over a decade for, and who I knew had never given herself to anyone.
But when Mallory blinked, the slightest bit of hope snaked through my veins at the relief and gratitude and awe swirling in her blue depths before they focused on me.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
All those tiny fragments of hope vanished in an instant as dread pooled low in my gut.
“I should’ve told you,” she went on, voice thick with that earlier shame I’d gotten a glimpse of as she shifted to sitting, forcing me to do the same.
“Yesterday . . . or back then. I don’t know, but I should’ve told you.
” Her stare briefly darted away from me as her voice fell to a repentant whisper. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”
“No.” The word dragged from the depths of my soul, a weak plea for her not to confirm what I was already agonizing over. My head slanted but couldn’t seem to continue shaking. “No, I—no.”
“Gray—”
“I asked you,” I seethed as I pushed from the couch, only to roughly shake my head as I fell right back to what I’d been saying.
“No, I . . . I wouldn’t have—” Driving a hand into my hair, I gripped tight as I softly begged, “Mallory, please tell me I didn’t sleep with you—that I didn’t take your virginity—that night. ”
She swallowed forcefully, her slender throat moving with the action and capturing my attention.
And that simple movement was all the answer I needed.
That dread raced through my veins, consuming me until I felt sick. A weak sounding laugh slipped from my strained lungs as I staggered back a step. “No wonder you hated me.”
“That isn’t—okay, it was partially from that, but I hated myself more. It was mostly everything that followed—everything we’ve already gone over,” she argued. “I was more humiliated by what happened.”
“Humiliated?” I repeated on a disbelieving scoff.
“Mallory, you were wasted. You were too vulnerable to say no! I—” My chest pitched with my next exhale, and I let my head drop in shame.
When I spoke again, my voice was softer, my words wrapped in sorrow.
“I should’ve taken care of you, and I didn’t. ”
“But you did.”
I drew in an excruciating breath and forced my stare up to see Mallory’s head tipped to the side, her eyes not quite meeting mine as she continued on a whisper.
“What you said a little while ago, about how the first time you slept with me wouldn’t be on a couch?
” Red crept into her cheeks as she cleared her throat.
“You said something similar that night. Not that I knew—not that I remembered—until just now.”
Blue eyes finally met mine as she explained, “You were trying to stop me from, uh”—her gaze danced over my bare chest and torso—“from undressing you. You told me, ‘The first time I get to sleep with you isn’t going to be on a night that you’ve been drinking and might regret.’”
“And I still slept with you,” I reminded her through clenched teeth.
Mallory drew in a breath to respond only to press her full lips firmly together. Just as my own mouth parted to apologize for what I’d done, she breathed, “Because I said the only thing I’d regret was another day without you.”
Even with all her shocking confessions yesterday, her words still stunned me into silence and forced my aching heart to pump faster and faster before I managed to shake my head again.
When I finally managed to speak, my words were low and rough with remorse, like glass over gravel. “I still should’ve waited. I should’ve—I know better. I should’ve taken more care with you.”
Heat burned in her cheeks as her stare fell away again. But the sight of this fierce woman once again looking so unsure of herself wasn’t what had my body locking up. It was her breathless, “You did.”
She didn’t just remember the lead-up. She remembered everything.
And I had nothing. Nothing other than the brief glimpse I’d been given yesterday, when we’d made it into the room.
Even with the initial relief that swam through my veins at her assurance, my jaw ticked as something like jealousy wove deeper because I would’ve given anything to remember that night—our night.
And why couldn’t I remember that night?
Mallory, I’d understood. She never drank. But I was always careful. I had to be in case anything happened.
Granted, the entire team had relaxed our drink limit while in Aruba, but still not enough that we wouldn’t be able to do our jobs if necessary, and definitely not to the point where an entire night went missing.
Over the months, I’d tried making myself believe I’d loosened up even more since Mallory had been drinking with me, but I knew that was wrong. I knew I would’ve been just as careful. Maybe even more so, because I would’ve been watching out for her.
Except, I hadn’t.
Closing the small distance between us, I crouched in front of her and waited until those blue eyes locked on me.
Sliding my hands up her thighs, I held her tightly as I spoke.
“I should’ve stopped us because you deserved more than a forgotten night.
You deserved everything, and I’m sorry. Regardless, knowing what happened doesn’t create expectations. Last night didn’t create expectations.”
Her brow furrowed just slightly, but I continued before she could ask.
“We won’t sleep together until you’re ready. And if you decide you’re not ready to fall asleep next to each other, then we won’t repeat last night. You’ll go back to your room, and I’ll stay on the couch.”
A nearly imperceptible hum of understanding rose in her throat as her eyes darted between mine, studying them. “And if I want my condo to myself?”
My chest tightened at the thought, but I just forced my head into a subtle bob as I thought of how to answer. “People don’t usually live apart when they’re married, Mallory. If that’s what you want, then you should go through with annulling our marriage.”
“I think after everything yesterday, you know I don’t want that.”
“But you don’t want to live together,” I countered.
Her head tilted as she continued studying me, her expression giving nothing away.
“I didn’t say that. I was seeing how far you were willing to step back.
” A wave of unease passed across her features and was gone just as quickly before she conceded, “But it is sudden, especially after . . .” She blew out a quick breath.
“Well, after everything. And I don’t know how to do this. ”
Surprise pulsed from me at the last admission.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard Mallory admit she didn’t know how to do something.
Instead of pointing that out, I asked, “Define this for me.”