Chapter 11 #2
She drew a breath of his clean scent and an unexpected giggle bubbled up.
He turned his head to look down at her, amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. “You have something to share with the class?”
She giggled again. “I didn’t think you would be like this.”
“And that’s funny?” He twisted onto one side to study her.
“No. Your skill in bed definitely matches your appearance on the outside.”
His eyes gleamed—he liked her praise. But she also saw he was waiting for more.
She bit her lip to trap another laugh. “I was looking for any reason not to be attracted to you. I was determined not to like you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh really?”
“I was trying to come up with things to dislike.”
“What’d you come up with?”
“You know…halitosis, smelly pits. Hairy ass.”
He pushed onto one elbow to stare down at her. “You thought I’d have a hairy ass?” He twisted his neck, craning to look over his shoulder at his own carved backside and sending her into a spasm of laughter.
She reached around his muscled body and clamped one hand around the very smooth, very hard bun. “You’re not hairy. You don’t smell. And you don’t have bad breath.”
“Good to know,” he said wryly.
She smoothed her palm over his ass cheek. He did the same to hers, kneading it gently before giving it a light spank that made her breath stop.
They gazed at each other for a heartbeat as she thought about things she wanted to do to his body that she’d never done to any other man. His expression turned serious, cutting her intentions short.
She moved her hand to cup his jaw.
“I get it though. I was determined to not to like anyone. But I couldn’t help it with you.”
She felt something coming even before he began to speak.
“Her name was Melina.”
Ellory’s heart gave a painful squeeze. Whatever he saw on her face made him pause.
“I don’t have to talk about this.”
“No. I want to hear it. Go on please.” She smoothed her thumb over his stubbled jaw.
His nostrils flared as he drew a deep breath and continued in a quiet tone, like saying it too loud might shatter him. “She was a civilian intelligence analyst working with my SEAL team before I became Blackout.”
He shifted back slightly, gaze unfocused on a spot on the far wall.
“She was good at her job. Sharp. The kind of person who noticed patterns nobody else paid attention to. I was leading a task force. We didn’t work side by side every day, but when she brought me intel, I listened.”
A faint breath left him.
“One op, she pulled me aside before we rolled. She showed me movement along the planned route. She said it felt wrong. Too quiet in the wrong places, too active in others. She said nothing was concrete enough to justify scrubbing the mission, but it made her uneasy.”
His jaw flexed.
“I looked at the data with her, and while I could see she might be on to something, there was nothing concrete to go off, like she said. I told her to let it bake a little longer, to give the intel time so we could confirm before we redirected an entire convoy on a gut feeling.”
Ellory’s stomach wobbled as she felt what came next.
His eyes dropped, focusing on nothing.
“She didn’t argue. Just nodded and said she’d keep digging.”
A long breath moved through him, in and out in a swell that made his whole body move with it.
“The convoy rolled a couple hours later. Melina was supposed to go in after the territory was secured. But she slipped in and was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” His throat clicked as he swallowed hard. “It was an ambush.”
The air punched from her at the pain flashing across his handsome face.
“They’d mapped our movement better than we realized. Her vehicle took the first hit.”
She wanted to put her arms around him, draw his head down on her shoulder and cradle him through the obvious grief washing through him.
“By the time my team reached them, it was already over. The subsequent investigation cleared everyone, me included. Again, there was no actionable intelligence to support changing the route. They called it unavoidable.” A humorless breath escaped him.
“That word did a lot of heavy lifting in the report.”
His fingers rested loosely against her hip as if he needed something to anchor himself in the storm of his memories.
“But she’d seen it coming. Not all of it. Not the exact where or how. But enough to raise the flag. If I’d seen it sooner too, if I’d just listened…”
The quiet after the statement held more weight than the words themselves. She saw the guilt he carried. The pain of the woman he cared for—maybe even loved—dying because he didn’t have enough intel to make the call to change course and avoid the attack.
She waited out the silence even though she wanted to hug him tight and soothe him.
“After that, something shifted in me. I didn’t spiral out of control with my grief. I didn’t get reckless and hurl myself in front of bullets. I went the other direction entirely.” He settled his gaze on her again, steady but full of shadows.
She touched his hand and he laced his fingers with hers, his touch warm and rough.
“When an opportunity to recruit for Blackout came up, I took it. It was a desk job, plain and simple. Evaluating candidates, running background checks. Finding the right men for the fight instead of being the one shaping the fight itself. Or leading it.”
He shifted his shoulder. “On paper, it made sense to use my experience without putting me in a position where a call I made could cost…everything.” He faltered.
“Once I saw Blackout Charlie was down a man…something snapped. I didn’t just go back to the fight. I shut everything else off. Told myself if I didn’t feel, I wouldn’t lose anyone like that again.”
His jaw tightened.
“But I didn’t just make myself dead to the world. I stayed dead to my team too. Kept them at a distance when they’re the only ones who understand.” A beat passed. “I thought I was protecting myself.”
He met her eyes.
“I was wrong.”
She couldn’t stand it anymore. She cradled his face and locked gazes with him. “I don’t think she would have wanted you to live half a life, Angelo.”
Vulnerability flickered across his features before quiet acceptance settled there. Her chest tightened at the sight of the man who carried so much and still kept moving forward.
“You didn’t lose your nerve,” she whispered. “You made a decision in the middle of chaos and lost someone who mattered. That’s grief, Angelo. Not dishonor. It doesn’t mean you’re unfit to lead. It just means you carry the weight of it.”
Silence wrapped around them, thick and intimate. Ellory leaned in first, closing the distance, pressing her mouth to his with a tenderness that held everything unspoken between them.
The kiss deepened almost immediately, Angelo responding with a hunger that felt less like desire and more like release—years of restraint, guilt and loneliness unraveling in the space of a heartbeat.
His arms came around her, drawing her closer as the kiss turned urgent and desperate in a way that made her heart race. He murmured her name against her lips before capturing them again, and Ellory gave herself over to the warmth of him.
The world outside faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of their breathing and the way he held her like letting go wasn’t an option.
And when he drew her down with him, she followed him into the moment.
Into the solace they found in each other’s arms.