“You don’t seem like a vanilla guy,” she teased, looking over the contents. “Maybe a carrot cake one?”
I shook my head, a smile tugging at my mouth. “Those were always Torres’s favorites. I swear, he had one every day for an entire year. I can’t stand the smell of them anymore.” It took me a second to realize she’d stopped breathing. “Izzy?” My gaze shot to hers.
“Torres. That’s your best friend, right?” Fear widened her eyes.
“Yeah. One of them.” I nodded, my brow furrowing at the look on her face.
“Oh, no. Did he . . . while you were gone . . .” She pressed her lips in a tight line, and the pieces clicked for me.
“No, Iz. No. He’s not dead.” I shook my head and squeezed her knee in reassurance. “He just had to give up the carrot cake cupcakes when he decided to go for Special Forces selection.” He’d spent the last few months trying to talk me into it, too, since I’d been wavering during the deployment.
Her entire body relaxed. “Okay. That’s a relief.”
“Fitz died, though.” I took the one that looked like lemon, making sure there was another just like it before lifting it from the box. Fitz would have gone for the chocolate. I breathed through the stab of pain I recognized as grief, then shoved it in the box with everything else.
“What?”
Shit. I should not have said that.
I paused in peeling the wrapper from the cake and found her staring at me. “Fitz. You met him—”
“On Tybee. I remember,” she whispered. “He . . . died?”
I nodded. “About a month in. There was a firefight—” My mouth snapped shut. Those were the things I deliberately kept separate, and here I was, shattering the only peace I had.
“Nate, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, lifting her hand to my shoulder.
“Don’t be.” I continued peeling the wrapper, concentrating on the sight of the cake and blinking away the memory of the blood pumping out of Fitz’s body. “You didn’t kill him.” The subject had to change immediately. “Which flavor is your favorite?”
Silence stretched between us.
I looked up and found her watching me with a look I’d never seen before. She looked like she didn’t know what to say or how to act, like I’d destroyed the ease between us for the second time that night. “Which is your favorite?” I asked again. “Movie time, remember?”
“Red velvet,” she answered, slowly taking one of those.
I put my cupcake down and then helped her off the counter, even though I knew she didn’t need it. Her curves slid against me as I lowered her to the ground, setting my body on fire, but the way her eyes darkened was even hotter.
We stood there for a long moment, my hands on her waist as she stared up at me, color rising in her cheeks, her chest rising and falling a little faster.
“Movie,” I reminded her—reminded myself.
“Right.” She drew her tongue across her bottom lip, and I bit back a groan. “Prepare for greatness,” she said and led me to the couch. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I savored the absolute peace.
I hadn’t ruined everything by keeping her out.
Two hours later, she looked up at me with expectation as the credits rolled. “What did you think?”
“I think it’s bullshit that they only got to see each other at dawn and sunset.” I glared at the screen.
“They win in the end,” she replied with a laugh, tucking one leg under her and turning to face me on the couch, her knee brushing my thigh.
“Doesn’t mean the years they spent like that weren’t bullshit.” I shook my head.
“Aw, Nate.” She grinned, taking my face in her hands and pulling my attention from the credits. “You’re a romantic at heart.”
I scoffed. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, Isabeau. Being romantic isn’t one of them.” There were only two people in the world I even remotely softened for. She just happened to be one of them.
Her gazed dropped to my mouth, and I fisted the cushion by her side to keep my hands from reaching for her. “You know what I’ve decided?”
“What?” My palms itched to feel the curves of her body.
She leaned into my space until her lips were only a matter of inches from mine.
Fuck, I was going to break. I could already taste her, already hear the little gasps she made between kisses. The memory of her had been my constant companion these last nine months.
“Fiji,” she whispered against my lips.
“I’m sorry?” The blood had definitely fled my brain.
“Fiji.” Her smile was contagious as she swung one knee over and settled into my lap, straddling me. “That’s where we should go for vacation. It’s warm. It has sandy beaches. It’s remote, so you won’t worry about crowds.”
“I like beaches.” The last time I’d been on one had been with her. My hands rose to her hips as arousal hummed through me.
“Good. Then Fiji it is.” She ran her fingers through my hair, and I leaned into her touch. Her lips ghosted across mine. “You can kiss me in the water.”
Yep. I was done for. The strands of my good intentions were unraveling by the second. It was all I could do to keep from flipping her back to the couch.
“Nate?” Her lips blatantly teased mine.
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
They were the same words I’d said to her back in Georgia, but fuck me if they didn’t sound a million times sexier coming out of her mouth.
I kissed her first and groaned when she opened for me. She was so damned sweet, her tongue rubbing against mine as I relearned every line of her mouth. Kissing her was just as explosive as I remembered, and a thousand times more addictive.
My fingers speared through her hair as I tilted our heads for the perfect angle, the kiss spinning out of control. Her breasts pressed against my chest. Her hips rocked over mine. Her breath became my own. This was exactly where I belonged, wherever she was.
The connection between us was as undefinable as it was undeniable.
“I’d almost forgotten how good at this we are,” she said between kisses.
“I thought about it every single day.” I angled her hips and rolled mine so she could feel exactly what I was thinking right now.
“I missed you.” She kissed my jaw, my neck, as her hands swept down my arms, then my torso. “And I know I shouldn’t have. That it’s completely illogical—”
I fisted my hand in her hair and brought her mouth back to mine, using my lips and tongue to tell her that I felt the exact same way. My fingers drifted from her hip to the small of her back, slipping under her shirt to stroke the hollow of her spine.
She gasped at the light touch, and I swallowed the sound.
“I bet you’re sensitive like this everywhere, aren’t you?” I asked, trailing my fingers up and down the smooth skin of her back.
“Why don’t you find out?” Her hands worked at her waist and her blouse fell open to the sides, revealing a pale-blue lace bra that cupped her breasts with an expertise that made my mouth water.
“Fuck.” The word escaped as a guttural groan. “You are so goddamn perfect, Isabeau.”