If You Run, I Will Follow
Triumph
Much as he hated to admit it, exhaustion began to suck him under.
She couldn’t be in a much better state. He needed to feed her, get her into bed, curl around her, and let nothingness take them for a while.
Tomorrow, or rather today, would be another soul-sucking day, and they both needed to be well-rested for the inquisition Chief Hammerling was bound to put her through, despite Cruz’s promises that this was an off-the-books, relaxed discussion.
Mentally, he grunted. As if. When was the FBI ever off the books or relaxed?
He didn’t want to, but he ended the kiss. Gently, he brought her hands down to let her arms hang loose at her sides. Resisting enfolding her in his arms again was painful.
“Food. Bed. If you want to sleep alone, you can have the guest room, and I’ll sleep in Trip’s room. No pressure, but I would much rather sleep with you.” He went for lighthearted. “I’m kind of used to it now.”
“Food,” she confirmed. “Bed. With you,” she agreed. “I’m kind of used to you too.”
He nodded. “Meet you out in the kitchen. Food’s here.”
It took effort to leave her there, but he did.
As he was midway through unpacking the food delivery, she emerged from the hallway, her damp hair in a loose French braid, a few wisps escaping as they dried.
She wore a pair of loose cotton pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt Francesca had picked out for her, and while no one would ever describe the outfit as sexy, she looked comfortable. That was sexy in its own way.
He could get used to this.
Wow. He really could. Nothing in his past suggested he was made for domesticity, other than that he came from a family that had lived in a house.
He wasn’t particularly close to his sisters—he saw them on the holidays, enjoyed being with their kids and their spouses—but he’d never once pictured them visiting him in that capacity.
Not. Once.
The thought of sharing a space with Glennon daily, never departing for his own separate space, should have freaked him the fuck out.
The thought of sleeping in the same bed with someone for the next thirty-plus years.
Sharing storage spaces. Their clothing next to each other’s in the closets.
Folding laundry that was mixed together.
He wanted it.
He was tumbling into a weird domestic fantasy of the laundry nonsense when a sound caught his attention.
The moan that came out of her as the flavors exploded across her tongue was absolutely obscene and put all his heroic notions of cuddling all night long to the test. Was it wrong to get hard from watching her devour something?
If it was, oh well. His body was all in.
After she’d eaten every crumb of the burger and wiped up every ounce of ketchup with her fries, she sat on the kitchen barstool, innocently sucking the grease and salt from the fingertips of her right hand. When she got to her thumb, her eyes happened to catch him staring.
Chuckling, she reached for a napkin to wipe her hands. “Apparently, I’ve lost track of all polite behavior.”
“Kitchen makes a good burger,” he said with a shrug. “But lord, I hope you enjoy everything you put in your mouth like that.”
Her eyes went wide.
Oh shit. Wrong thing to say. “Glennon—” he began.
She held up a hand. “It’s okay. I’m fine.
” She dropped her eyes. In a slow, deliberate motion, she lowered the napkin, carefully folding it along the creases, then placed it to the side of her plate.
With one hand, she obsessively smoothed out all the wrinkles, as if trying to return it to its original state.
She looked at him through her eyelashes. “I probably will.”
Part of him wanted to protest. Part of him wanted to haul her off the stool and put her between his legs right now.
But that would be a dick move, on multiple levels.
While he knew he was nothing like Guillermo, and he knew she did, too, the one thing he was going to let her lead on was the first time they did anything more together.
She was far too important to fuck this up.
Instead, he let the moment sit. People didn’t like silence.
They felt the need to fill it with all sorts of inane chatter, desperate for noise because a lack of it made them feel vulnerable.
Perhaps they thought that, with no words tumbling out of their mouths for people to listen to, it somehow made them unimportant.
Not Glennon. Like him, she understood the power of silence.
That it was strength, not weakness, to let a moment just be what it was without trying to make it something more.
Maybe part of that was the agent in her—always watching, always listening, always thinking.
But he thought it was more that her family had unknowingly trained her to be this way, constantly on the alert, listening to the subtext behind people’s words, planning her strategy.
All the things that made her a good undercover operative.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat, willing his dick to calm down. “Time for bed,” he finally said.
After clearing away the garbage and wiping down the counter, he took hold of her by the back of the neck and led her to the bedroom.
It took no prodding from him for her to crawl under the covers.
When he slid in behind her, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she passed out before her head hit the pillow.
But once he settled there, she wiggled her way backward, tight up against him.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, one arm banded around her waist and the other resting on her hip. She felt good in his arms. Right. Like she was meant to be there, and no one else would fit.
Although he was exhausted, his brain wouldn’t shut off. She hadn’t said she wouldn’t run. All she’d really done was explain the logical thinking process behind why she should. How did he keep her from leaving?
“Relax, Triumph.” Her groggy voice was muffled by the pillow she’d basically face-planted into. “I’m not going anywhere between now and tomorrow.”
How did he explain the worry he felt without pressuring her?
“Short of tying you to the bed, I can’t keep you from running.
And while I admit that particular activity sounds delightful all on its own, I do understand the impulse.
But know this.” He kissed her behind the ear.
“If you run, Guillermo won’t be the only one chasing you down.
” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then snuggled her in tight to his frame. “Sleep now, little spy.”