2. Jon #2
“Food’s ready,” Blaze announces, piling juicy burgers onto a platter. “Come and get it before I feed it all to Jon. Man’s been eyeing these burgers like they’re intel packets.”
“Occupational hazard,” I call back. “Always hungry.”
“For more than just food,” Charlie quips with a meaningful glance toward Aria, who blushes beautifully.
The teasing, the way everyone has accepted Aria and Ember into our circle, fills me with warmth that has nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day.
Delta team has always been family, but seeing how seamlessly they’ve embraced the newcomers makes me realize how much I want this to work.
How much I want Aria to feel she belongs here, with us.
With me.
I hope I’m not moving too fast, but she feels like an inevitability, as if she’s already a part of me.
“To ‘The Little Matchstick Girl,’” Jenny raises her glass, her smile radiant in the golden light. “Ember and Aria, may you enjoy unlimited success.”
“And to Ryn’s fire-born art,” Blaze adds, nodding toward the candles that illuminate our gathering. “Turning broken things into treasure.”
Our glasses clink together, and the sound carries out over the ocean.
I watch Aria’s face in the flickering light, memorizing the way joy transforms her features.
Just hours ago, in the shop, I finally found the courage to kiss her—a moment I’ve imagined countless times but never thought would ever happen.
I’m glad I took the chance.
The evening flows around us in waves of conversation and laughter.
CJ leans back in his chair, the fading light catching the silver threading through his dark hair at the temples.
Our former Delta team commander still carries that unmistakable air of command.
His promotion to head Guardian operations left a hole in our team dynamic that Jenny filled seamlessly, but having him here tonight makes our circle feel complete.
“Like old times.” CJ’s gaze sweeps over all of us. “The whole team is back together.”
“Not quite like old times.” Jenny nudges him with her elbow. “I give the orders now, remember?”
“As if I could forget.” CJ laughs. “You remind me every chance you get.”
“Someone has to keep your ego in check.” Mac reaches for another beer. “Remember Bogotá? When you decided we should infiltrate that compound without backup?”
CJ winces. “That was?—”
“The worst call you ever made,” Jenny finishes. “We were pinned down for six hours.”
“And yet,” CJ raises his bottle, “we all made it out. With the intel. And the hostage.”
“Because I had a backup plan,” Jenny says smugly.
“You always do.” CJ’s voice carries genuine respect. “Why do you think I recommended you for Delta-One?”
Brett leans forward. “You never told us that part.”
“Some things are meant to stay between team leads,” CJ says, his eyes meeting Jenny’s in silent communication that speaks to years of partnership. “But tonight’s a night for truths, isn’t it?”
“Remember the extraction in Caracas?” Mac leans forward, elbows on his knees. “When CJ had to pose as a flamenco dancer?”
CJ groans. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”
“Some things are too good to stay buried.” Jenny’s eyes dance with mischief. “Especially the part where an arms dealer tried to seduce you.”
“Someone failed to mention in the intel briefing,” CJ says drily.
“Not my department.” Mac raises his hands in mock surrender. “Besides, you improvised beautifully.”
“That was the night I knew you’d be taking my job someday,” CJ tells Jenny, something like pride in his voice. “The way you stepped in when everything went sideways.”
“Only because you’d taught me how to think on my feet.” Jenny’s tone softens. “Delta team has always been more than just a tactical unit.”
“Family,” Blaze says simply, his arm draped around Ember’s shoulders.
“Speaking of family,” CJ turns to Aria, his expression warming. “It’s good to see you fitting in so well with this bunch of misfits. Not everyone can handle the Delta dynamic.”
“It’s—different,” Aria admits. “But in the best way.”
“We grow on you,” Mac says. “Like a fungus.”
“A highly trained, lethal fungus,” Brett adds.
Blaze keeps glancing at Ember with an intensity that makes my neck prickle with awareness. Something’s coming. During a lull in conversation, Blaze clears his throat, rising from his seat beside Ember. The sudden quiet draws everyone’s attention.
“I, uh—” Blaze rubs the back of his neck, uncharacteristically nervous. “Had something planned. A speech. But I’m just going to?—”
He drops to one knee in front of Ember, whose eyes widen. Her hand flies to her mouth.
“Ember,” Blaze says, his voice steady despite the emotion plain on his face. “You walked into my life, and somehow became the best part of it.”
From his pocket, he draws a small velvet box. The deck falls silent except for the crash of waves below and the soft catch of Ember’s breath.
“I had this made,” he continues, opening the box to reveal a ring that catches the candlelight. Golden veins run through the metal like Ryn’s kintsugi work—beauty created from broken pieces. “Because that’s what you did for me. Found the broken pieces and made them something beautiful.”
“Blaze—” Ember’s eyes shimmer with tears.
“I want to spend my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Ember whispers, then louder, “Yes!”
Blaze slides the ring onto her finger, then rises to gather her into his arms. Their kiss, tender and fierce at once, sends a cheer through our gathered family. Champagne appears, toasts are made, and the celebration takes on a new energy.
As the congratulations and toasts continue around us, my fingers twitch with the need to touch Aria.
To claim her in some small way. The impulse surprises me—I’m not usually possessive.
But something about tonight, about seeing Charlie and Brett together, about watching Blaze and Ember seal their future with a kiss, makes me acutely aware of what I want.
Who I want.
I catch Aria’s wrist, the delicate bones beneath my fingers making my throat tighten.
“Come with me.”
Her eyes meet mine, curious but trusting. She follows me to the far edge of the deck, where the crash of waves drowns out the celebration behind us. Stars reflect on the dark water, endless possibilities mirrored in the depths.
“Are you all right?” She studies my face in the dim light, her hand brushing lightly along my forearm. The warmth of her touch grounds me, but my pulse refuses to slow. She studies my face in the dim light, her brows pulling together in concern.
I nod, but it’s not enough. I need to say it.
“I’ve been thinking about that kiss. In the shop.”
“Me too.” Color rises to her cheeks, soft pink even in the moonlight, and it damn near knocks the air out of my lungs. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”
“I’ve wanted to for months,” I admit, my thumb tracing a slow line across the back of her hand. “Just never thought…”
“That I’d be interested?” Her laughter is soft, surprised, and tinged with a hint of shyness, like she’s testing the water before diving in. “I’ve been hoping you would for months. I just didn’t think you saw me that way. Not with?—”
“Charlie and Brett,” I finish for her, jaw tightening. “That’s been over for a while now.”
Her mouth parts, but she doesn’t speak. Her fingers twist nervously in the hem of her dress, and the gesture nearly undoes me.
“I just wasn’t sure if you were ready…” She bites her lip, and it nearly unravels me. That uncertainty, that doubt—like she doesn’t know how much I see her, want her. “For something else.”
That hits deeper than it should. This fierce, brilliant woman doesn’t realize how completely she’s undone me.
How often I’ve found myself watching the way her eyes light up when she’s focused.
How the curve of her smile ruins my concentration.
How the memory of her laugh gets me through the hardest parts of the day.
“I need to ask you something.” I reach out, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Anything.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” My hand stays at her cheek, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “I should have asked before I kissed you. Before I assumed?—”
“No.” The answer is immediate. Her lips tilt into a small, teasing smile. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Good.” The relief that hits me is hot and visceral, coiled low in my spine.
“Good?” she echoes, like she’s testing the word on her tongue.
I step into her space, one hand slipping to her hip, tugging her in until our bodies nearly touch. Her breath hitches. I feel it in the way her fingers grip my forearm.
“Yes.” I step in closer, my hand sliding to her waist. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move away. She lets me touch her like I have the right. “Because I don’t want to share you.”
“Do I dare ask—what that means?” Her tone is playful, but there’s a thread of hope running through it.
“I want you. Just you. Us,” I continue, voice dropping. “If that’s what you want too… Say it now.” I lock my gaze on hers.
“I’d like that.” She sways into me, hands sliding up my chest, looping behind my neck like it’s instinct.
I nod once, then let my thumb stroke the edge of her rib, just under the curve of her breast.
“Just to be clear,” I murmur, my fingers tracing a slow line along her waist, “if you’re not seeing anyone… I want to be the one who is. The only one who is. I’m done with the threesome thing, and I’m not interested in casual. Not with you.”
My thumb presses gently at her waist, drawing her just a little closer.
Her lashes lower as that sinks in, a flicker of emotion crossing her face—remembering what things looked like between me, Brett, and Charlie.
“I don’t want anyone else in it. Just you. Me. No additions.”
Her breath hitches. I lean in, my voice dropping to a rumble.
“This is you and me. No one else. If we do this, it’s exclusive. You’re mine.”
“Then, I’m yours,” she whispers. “Just like you’re mine.” She leans into me, hands sliding up my chest, locking behind my neck.
That’s all I need to hear.
She stares up at me, lips parted, breath shallow, eyes storm-lit with want and something deeper. Need, maybe. Or maybe it’s just mine, reflected back at me.
I don’t ask permission—I don’t need to. Not when everything in her body is already leaning toward me, drawn like a tide to shore.
I slide a hand around the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, tugging gently until her mouth tilts just enough. My other hand curves around her hip, anchoring her in place.
Our mouths meet in a clash of heat and hunger—no brush, no tease. Just need. Pure and potent.
She gasps against my lips, and I take advantage, sweeping in, claiming her in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and pent-up ache. Nothing slow about it. Nothing careful. This isn’t a question. It’s a fucking declaration.
Her fingers grip my biceps, nails biting through cotton, dragging me closer like she wants to climb inside my skin. Her body molds to mine, soft curves pressed tight to every inch of me. I groan, the sound guttural, ripped from my chest.
Her tongue meets mine, bold and unfiltered, a rhythm that sets my blood on fire. She tastes like wine and sin and the first damn breath after nearly drowning.
I press her back until her spine finds the wall behind her, my thigh slipping between hers. She arches instinctively, and the friction shoots sparks straight through me.
She moans into my mouth, breath hitching when my hand slides up her side, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through fabric.
I pull back just enough to breathe, our foreheads bumping, noses brushing.
“That answer your question?” I rasp.
Her eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide. “What question?”
I grin, breathless and wild. “Exactly.”
She surges up and kisses me again, deeper this time. Needier. Like she finally understands just how far I’m willing to go for her.
And hell if I’m not already gone.
I reclaim her mouth, my kiss harder now, more demanding.
Possessive in a way I’ve never allowed myself to be.
Her response is immediate, matching my intensity with her own.
Her hands aren’t idle, sliding beneath my shirt to trace the muscles of my back, nails lightly scoring my skin in a way that makes me groan against her lips.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire. I rest my forehead against hers, struggling to regain control.
“That wasn’t like the first one,” she whispers, a smile in her voice.
“No.” My thumb traces the curve of her lower lip. “But I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Just today?”
“Longer.” I laugh softly, caught. “Much longer.”
I’m not a man for casual flings—never have been. Even with Charlie and Brett, it was always more than physical. They were family, safety, and home. With Aria—I want even more.
Behind us, Delta team’s laughter carries on the night breeze. My family, her family now too. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges. But tonight, with Aria in my arms and the endless horizon stretching before us, I allow myself to believe in possibilities I’d given up on finding again.