Chapter 28 #2
He lowered her foot and took her hand in both of his. “None of this is your fault. I’m so proud of you for escaping. I’m just angry any of this happened.”
She nodded, wishing she could banish the tears from her eyes. “I knew you’d try to look for me. I just . . . I never anticipated you’d succeed.”
He jerked back his head. “Damn, why you gotta do me like that?”
She laughed, and the amusement she felt was like calming balm on inflamed skin. “Well, clearly you proved me wrong.”
“Probably won’t be the last time,” he said with a shrug. Some of the playfulness left his eyes, and his forehead creased. “I want to know everything, Mol. Everything you want to talk about, that is.”
“I jumped from the balcony,” she said. “Then escaped through the forest. After the guards, two of them, found me in the cave, I attacked them both. I hit one in the head with a rock. Then his friend got a log to the face.”
A rich, full laugh shook Atlas’s shoulders. “Remind me never to piss you off.” His expression turned serious. “You did good, babe. I hope you know that. You fought and you survived. Now you never have to worry again.” He kissed her knuckles. Heat, even hotter than her bathwater, spread to her toes.
Protectiveness was thick in his voice, but more than that . . . promise.
Her heart wanted to know more, to ask him if dating was in their future, but she couldn’t talk about anything serious right now. Not until she got rest and could form coherent thoughts.
“Why don’t you chill for a while longer? It’s practically morning, but maybe we can get a few hours of sleep and order breakfast. How’s that sound?”
She sat up. Cold air hit her skin. She cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek. His sharp whiskers tickled her lips, but she loved the texture. “Sounds perfect.”
“Do you need anything?”
She shook her head.
“All right. I’ll come back to check on you in a few minutes.” He left the bathroom.
She lay back in the tub and let the warmth surround her once again. The hot water was amazing for the body, but Atlas . . . he was good for the soul.
Sunlight hit Atlas’s face, making him squint and regret not checking the curtains for any potential leaks before passing out.
Molly’s soft, warm body molded against his chest. Her legs were intertwined with his, her hands squished between her naked chest and his, and her face burrowed against his clavicle.
Her breath fluttered against his skin, assuring him she was still asleep. Luckily her back was to the window, so the rays wouldn’t disturb her.
He glanced at the bedside clock over her shoulder. They’d slept for several hours and soon it’d be lunchtime. The scent of the hotel’s shampoo floated to his nostrils from her hair. The strands had dried and no longer held seawater, smoke, and terror.
After she’d gotten out of the tub, he’d bandaged up her feet and helped her into bed. Ten minutes later, he got out of the shower to find her fast asleep.
He fought the impulse to stroke her silky hair and kiss her forehead. She’d been through hell and needed all the sleep she could get.
Which made him wonder—what did she need?
Aside from sleep and food, he had no idea.
The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted to meet that need. He wanted to get her safely to the US and spend time with her now that he was off duty awhile.
But hell. He had to ask her what she wanted and needed from him first. If anything. With that thought firmly in mind, he tucked the blanket around her and inched off the bed. He’d slept in boxer briefs, and it took him a minute to find his joggers and a long-sleeved shirt.
In the living room, he ordered room service, then fixed himself a coffee.
Sitting in one of the chairs near the window, he took in the brilliant sun climbing high over the ocean. An ocean he’d boated on to find Molly. He would’ve gone to the ends of the earth if he hadn’t known she was on that island.
Now, the sun, birds, and puffy white clouds made the previous night seem like a lie.
He checked his phone and saw a text from Rogue. He sent him a quick message telling him they were awake but wouldn’t be leaving the room for a while yet.
“Good morning.”
He lowered his phone at the sound of Molly’s sweet voice and took in the beautiful sight before him. Her blond hair surrounded her shoulders and framed her face. Her skin was pale and discolored from the bruises, but if he didn’t look past that he’d drive himself nuts.
Despite the bleary gleam in her eyes, she looked more like herself.
“Morning. I ordered you some food. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
She placed a hand on her flat belly. “Ohmigod. I’m starving.”
He got to his feet and offered her his chair. “Enjoy the view. I’ll make you a tea. Earl Grey?”
“Yes, please.”
He went to the kitchen, plopped a tea bag into a mug, and poured water from the still-hot kettle over it.
In the chair, she curled her feet beneath the T-shirt of his she wore. Hell, as much as he liked seeing her in more-flattering garments, there was something sexy about a woman in his shirt.
No, not a woman. This woman.
Molly.
He carried the steaming mug to her, and she smiled and accepted it. “Thank you.”
He took the chair next to her, crossing his ankle over his knee and reaching for his coffee. “How do you feel today?”
She wrapped her hands around the mug, balancing it on her knee. “Okay. I slept well.” Her eyebrows raised. “How’s Wraith? Ohmigosh, I can’t believe I didn’t ask about him sooner.”
“Don’t sweat it. He’s doing well the last I heard. Not happy to be in the hospital, I’m sure.”
She flattened her lips. “You said he was shot in the leg. Was it broken?”
“No, I don’t think so. But he lost a lot of blood. I plan to swing by the hospital later if you feel up to it.”
“Of course.” She lifted the mug to her lips, then set it down again. Her eyes darted nervously, and a blush momentarily tinted her cheeks. “I guess I should look at flights back home now that, well, things are settled.”
Fear sent his head on a turbulent ride. He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and folded his fingers against his jaw, aiming for an ease he didn’t feel. Previously, they’d talked about him having work to tie up after Rex was handled. He’d said he’d then have a few weeks or longer off.
They’d decided to talk about it after, and now . . . Christ, maybe she wanted space. How the hell was he going to—
“And you?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
Indecision burrowed deep in his gut. If she wanted time to herself that was fine, but he couldn’t pussyfoot around. He needed a direct order from her.
Once he made his intentions clear, she could decide if—or when—things between them went further.
He took the mug from her fingers and set it on the table along with his, then leaned forward and grasped her hands. “Molly,” he said, tasting the soft cadence of her name. God, he could say her name a million times and never tire of it—never tire of her.
Her golden stare slammed into him with awareness. The embers in her eyes rekindled. He’d been afraid they might never return after what she’d endured.
Her lips parted as if eagerly waiting for his mouth.
Agitation tensed his shoulders, but he forced himself to stay focused on her pretty eyes. The eyes that’d completely dismantled him when he stumbled across her at Rex’s fucking house in the jungle.
“I know you’ve been through a lot,” he began, clearing his throat. “I understand if you need some time. I want you to know that I’m here . . . whether you want me to wait, or be in your life now. Either way, I’ll take it.”
She swallowed. Slowly, she peeled her fingers out of his grasp and stood, then climbed onto his lap. He leaned back on the chair, circling his arms around her waist and holding her against him.
His heart expanded. This was what he wanted. Day in, day out. Molly.
She placed her hand on his cheek and gently stroked the bristles he’d forgotten to shave.
“I don’t need time away from you, Atlas. If anything, I’ve learned that’s the last thing I want.” Her attention shifted out the window, and she bit down on her lower lip. He couldn’t help but sense the dreaded but.
“I feel like I’m a mess right now. I-I know I just need to process things, and that might be too much for you—”
He caught the back of her neck, forcing her gaze back to him. He shifted her on his lap so she was straddling him. “Dammit, Molly. I don’t ever want you to think I can’t handle what you’re going through. All right? Nothing’s changed on my front.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Even if I have PTSD in the shower?”
He didn’t smile back because none of it was funny. He brought his forehead to hers. “I can live with showering together.”
I can’t live without you.
She chuckled. “I guess that’s a positive trade-off.”
He caught her wrist gently, careful of the abused skin, and brought her palm to his lips. “I’ll do whatever you need, baby. You give the order and I’ll take the shot.”
Her smile grew. “You’re like the most badass combat guy in the world, and you’re telling me you’d take an order from me?”
“Yup. Order me to kill, order me to fuck, just don’t order me to leave. Can’t promise I’ll do that easily.” Having stripped away his invisible Kevlar, he prayed he hadn’t said too much.
He wanted Molly. He didn’t want her under duress.
She surged forward, bringing her lips to his. Her sweet scent filled him. His hands wandered to the gentle swell of her hips, and his body responded tenfold. Her chest pressed against his, and he felt her nipples through the thin material of her shirt.
Need burned his nerve endings. His cock sprang against his joggers. It took everything in him not to carry her to bed—sex wasn’t what she needed.
She pulled away and her hair fell in a long curtain over her cheek.
He brushed it back and skimmed his fingers over her delicate neck. “What do you think, Mol?”
She settled her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not sure if I can tell myself what to do, let alone you,” she said with a chuckle.
“All right.” He placed his hands back on her hips. “Let’s chill in Panama for a few days. Why don’t I get us a private short-term rental near the beach? After all, I never got to see your bikini.”
She laughed, joy twinkling in her eyes. “Well, unfortunately I’m going to look like a kid’s splatter painting in my yellow bikini and colorful bruises. But time on the beach sounds heavenly.”
Fuck, he hated the bruises. He’d seen enough of them while helping her in the tub earlier. He’d never get that image out of his head.
“All right. Panama for a few more days, then we’ll head back to the US. Sound good?”
She nodded. Her fingers toyed with his neckline. “Then what?”
The innocent inquiry brought with it a world of other questions. He had the answers to them, but maybe she pictured a different outcome. Didn’t matter. He’d always bare his heart to Molly, whether he was left gutted or not.
“I remember you mentioned you lived with your parents before coming here. I’ve got a place in Pittsburgh. So I guess you’ve got two options.”
Her gaze flew to his, widening. “Are you asking me to move to Pittsburgh?”
“I’m asking you to move in with me.”
She blinked.
“We can take things slow. Once I talk to Rogue I’ll know more about my schedule, but I’m pretty sure I’ll have a month off. Plenty of time to take a trip to Illinois for your things and to beat Brad’s ass.”
Molly’s head fell back, and a laugh rolled from her throat. “Atlas! You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. I won’t kill him though”—he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck, then found his way to her lips—“unless you order me to.”
“I most certainly will not,” she said with mock scorn, but she melted against him.
He let his tongue sweep inside her mouth, tasting her one more time. He stopped before he got out of hand.
“So,” he said, pulling away and swooping her hair into his fist, giving it a gentle tug toward him. “Whaddya say about my place?”
Her expression turned dreamy and her smile shone so bright, she rivaled the sunlight outside their window. “I say yes.”
Gratitude exploded inside him. He picked her up with her legs wrapped around his waist, and they kissed in the brilliant rays.
They still had some things to figure out, but one thing was for sure—he’d fallen for Molly. And every time he looked at her, he fell for her all over again.
Life was fucking good.