Chapter 12 #2
I capture her mouth again, swallowing whatever she was going to say next. My thumb traces patterns on the skin just above her waistband, and she shivers, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling hard enough to send sparks down my spine.
This kiss tastes like coming home and falling off a cliff at the same time. Like every good decision and every terrible one I've ever made. Like eight years of wanting someone so much it physically hurt, and finally—finally—being allowed to touch her again.
Rachel's hands slide under my shirt, palms hot against my ribs, my back, learning the contours of muscle and scar tissue. Every place she touches burns. Every breath she takes against my mouth makes me want more.
I've been in firefights that required less control than this.
Combat situations where split-second decisions meant life or death.
But nothing has ever tested my discipline like keeping this at kissing when every cell in my body is screaming to take more, claim more, make sure she knows exactly how much I've wanted this.
"Stop treating me like I'll break," she whispers between kisses. "I'm stronger than you think."
"I know you are," I manage. "That's not what scares me."
"Then what does?"
"Breaking you anyway. Wanting you so much that I stop being careful." The words come out rough, raw. "I left eight years ago because I loved you. Because loving you could get you killed. And now I'm back, and nothing's changed except I want you even more and the threat is worse."
She pulls back enough to meet my eyes. Her pupils are dilated, lips swollen from kissing, breathing ragged. Everything I never stopped wanting stares back at me.
"I'm trying to keep enough distance that I can still think tactically, still do my job. But you're making that impossible."
Understanding dawns in her expression. "That's why you keep pulling away."
"Yes."
"What if I don't want distance?" Her hands slide up to cup my face, forcing me to maintain eye contact. "What if I don't want the operator? What if I want the man who loves me?"
The question destroys the last of my resistance.
I kiss her again, harder this time, pouring eight years of wanting into the contact. My hands frame her face, tilting her head to the angle I want, and she opens for me immediately. Her tongue slides against mine and I groan into her mouth, the sound embarrassing and inevitable.
Rachel makes a matching sound, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer even though there's no space left between us. I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine, feel the rapid beat of her heart, feel her breathing change as the kiss deepens.
My hands slide from her face to her waist, pulling her harder against me.
"Colton," she gasps against my mouth, my name a plea and a demand.
My mouth moves from her lips to her jaw, down the column of her throat, tasting salt and skin and Rachel. She tilts her head back, giving me access, her breathing ragged in my ear.
"Eight years," I breathe against her neck. "Eight years I've wanted this. Wanted you."
"Then stop holding back." Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me impossibly closer. "Stop thinking. Just feel."
I kiss her with all the hunger I've been suppressing since I showed up in her yard. Since before that. Since I walked away thinking distance would keep her safe and instead spent every day of those eight years wanting her.
Her fingers trace the line of my spine, and I have to break the kiss to catch my breath. We're both panting, both trembling.
"I never stopped," I tell her, forehead pressed to hers, my voice barely recognizable. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day."
Rachel's eyes are bright when she looks at me. "Then stay. Not for the mission. Not to keep us safe. Stay because you want to. Because you choose this. Choose us."
Before I can answer, before I can promise her things I have no right to promise, my comm unit crackles to life.
"Stryker, Kane needs you in operations," Mercer's voice cuts through the moment like a blade. "We've got movement on Kessler's location. Committee surveillance van spotted near the airfield where we extracted Rachel and Lucas."
Rachel's entire body goes rigid when I set her down. "What happened?"
I key my comm. "On my way."
When I look back at Rachel, the moment is gone. The woman who was wrapped around me seconds ago is replaced by the mother calculating threats to her son, the survivor processing new danger.
"I need to go.” I tell her. “Kane’s waiting. Kessler's team was spotted near the airfield where we flew out of. They're following our trail, checking locations we used during the extraction."
She nods, understanding written across her face.
I force myself to step away, still tasting her on my lips, still feeling her body against mine.
Kessler's getting closer. The timeline for ending this just accelerated.
I head toward operations, but the truth I just admitted to Rachel echoes in my head with every step. I never stopped loving her. Not when I left. Not during the eight years away. Not now.
I'm choosing her. Choosing us. Whatever comes next, I'm not walking away again.