Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The bed was too damn small. Wyatt had been right to be concerned about them sleeping together.
Her body had been up against him all night.
Every time he stirred, he’d found his chest to her back, or her breasts smashed to his chest. He’d opted to keep his clothes on instead of changing into the sweats and tee in his bag, hoping the rough denim would be a better barrier between their bodies.
But when she woke him, moaning in her sleep as if she were dreaming about sex, he’d found his cock painfully hard in his trousers, anyway.
This was why they needed to sleep in his suite where there were two beds. It’d still be near impossible to be around her without wanting her sexually, but this was downright torture.
And heaven help him, her cotton PJ bottoms were thin, and the pink polka dots did nothing to prevent him from picturing what was beneath. It was almost worse because it enabled his imagination to run wild with inventive ways to remove her pajamas in under three seconds.
A few hours later, when the sun began to rise, the light slowly spilling through the windows, Natasha appeared to be having a nightmare. At the sight of tears tracking down her cheeks, Wyatt decided to wake her up.
He wrapped her tightly in his arms, the same way he’d always wished his mum would have done to comfort him after a nightmare when he was a kid.
In a soothing tone, he whispered, “It’s okay.
It was a dream.” He gently stroked her head and threaded his fingers through her hair. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.
A moment or two later, she tipped her chin to look at him, her green eyes glistening as she rasped, “I was reliving their deaths. I’m never able to stop him.”
Wyatt’s heart swelled, aching to take away her pain. He assumed she meant her team members who died, who The Knight had assassinated in 2018.
When his buddy Marcus, who’d once been Bravo Three, had died, it’d taken a long damn time for the pain to lessen.
“Have you gotten help? Talked to anyone about it?” He kept his voice low and soft.
She blinked away the rest of her tears and nodded. “It was mandated that I get therapy if I wanted to operate again after what happened.”
He maintained his hold of her, not ready to let go, not prepared to lose her.
“I was doing okay, but I think getting confirmation he’s still alive has brought all these feelings back up again.
” She licked a tear from her lip. “But I’m too stubborn to sit this out if you’re going to suggest it like Harper did last night.
” She reached between the tight fit of their bodies and placed a palm on his bearded jawline.
“There’s a chance I may not be thinking as clearly as I should be, though.
It’s quite possible you were right to yell at me for going into that factory alone even if I knew he wouldn’t kill me. ”
He agreed with her confession, but he also trusted her instincts. She knew The Knight wouldn’t take her out so easily. The man was an insufferable bastard, and he had a game to play.
“I guess that’s why I get a little confused being around you.
” Her eyes dropped closed. “You feel good,” she whispered.
“But also dangerous.” Her lip quivered as if fighting emotions again, and it shredded him all the way to his core.
“Apparently, I enjoy safety but also living dangerously. The CIA hires walking contradictions, and I’m that girl. ”
“Do I scare you?” Because I should.
“The way you make me feel does, but you also make me feel safe.” Her eyeliner from the night before was slightly smudged beneath her eyes, and when her long lashes lifted, her green irises shone with unshed tears. “I know I’m making absolutely no sense.”
She was wrong.
She made perfect sense to him.
Because he felt the same.
She was the sun he never knew he craved, and yet, he kept clinging to the familiarity of the rain.
“I’m sorry. You have a lot on your plate. And I don’t mean to be talking about this. You told me last night you’re struggling and—”
“And you’re struggling, too. We’re in the same boat.” His heartbeat kicked up the closer he brought his face to hers. “You don’t owe me any apologies. If anything, I owe you one because I can’t seem to get my head on straight.”
Because as much as he needed to stay focused on the case, on keeping Gwen safe, he couldn’t disregard Natasha, or how she seemed to ignite something inside of him he couldn’t even begin to explain.
“I’m going to do something I’ve never done.” She closed her eyes as if trying to maintain a sense of resolve. “I’m going to follow your team’s lead on this case.”
“You are?” This wasn’t the direction he’d expected the conversation to go, but maybe it was for the best.
“A new perspective and fresh set of eyes might prove valuable. I’ve been working this case for so long I feel lost. And the last thing I want is to get your people hurt because I’m not in the right state of mind.
” Her lids lifted. “If anything happened to you or your daughter, I’d never be able to live with that. ”
Now he was closing his eyes, his body growing still like he was stuck on freeze-frame mode.
How would he survive the constant state of worry that came with being a dad? The fear of something happening to Gwen was already unbearable.
He hadn’t wanted kids, or to marry again, for many reasons. But near the top of his list was this very issue—how would he forever ensure their safety?
How had Arthur done it? And he’d had three kids. The tattoo on the inside of his arm drew his eyes, and his stomach burned. He wasn’t cut out for this.
He didn’t play the What if? game when it came to his team and their missions. He didn’t think about dying. He was doing his job.
Losing a brother was hard, but like him, they were warriors. It hurt. It hurt beyond belief when one of them died. But that was the life they’d all chosen.
Having a child, or a wife, he’d lose his mind with worry on a daily basis.
“You’re quiet. Are you okay? Did I upset you?” Her hand connected with his chest where his heartbeat thrashed like a wild horse kicking its legs in the air out of fear.
“I can’t,” he sputtered as if she had a clue what had been going on in his mind. He eased off the bed and surrendered his hands in the air. “I just can’t.”
She sat and clutched the sheet to her chest, covering herself as if she were naked instead of wearing pajamas. “What’s wrong?”
He brought a palm to his mouth, trying to slow his pulse, to calm the hell down.
“Hey.” She dropped her legs to the side of the bed, released the sheet, and padded over to him.
“I-I don’t think I can do this.”
“Do what?” She grabbed hold of his forearm, forcing him to lower his hand from his mouth.
“Be a father.” He shook his head, his entire body tensing.
The nerves stretching. “I’ve only known about her for a day, and somehow I already .
. .” He brought his hands to his hips and bowed his head as he tried to gain control, to not be a damn coward.
He had to man up. “I can’t be anyone other than Echo One. ”
“Wyatt.” His name on her tongue should’ve eased him. The sound of her voice should’ve comforted him, but he was too far gone. Too out of bloody sorts to do or say anything.
“I can be a sniper. I can hunt and kill terrorists.” He pointed to his chest, hating the raw, scratchy sound that came with his words.
“I know how to do that.” He stretched his arms open wide as she stared at him with sad eyes.
“But I-I don’t know how to be a father, or how not to worry about something happening to her.
” His arms fell like hard slash marks through the air.
“And then there’s you. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.
” He turned and snatched his mobile off the dresser.
“What you’re feeling is normal. This is all new. You don’t need to feel bad about it,” she said as he grabbed his boots and worked his feet into them, not bothering to lace them up.
“I need some air.” He went to the door and threw a quick look at her from over his shoulder. “But maybe it’s me who shouldn’t be working this case.”