And I almost tell her.
In Afghanistan, there was an incident. IED, ambush on a high mountain road, and in the middle of the attack one of our jeeps went down a three-hundred-foot cliff. The driver managed to jump out, but the guys in back were lost. As it tipped before my eyes, the passenger door had a hand.
Yeah, a hand. The hand shot out through the open window and I grabbed it as the soldier jumped out, bracing his legs on something inside to get some force. Our eyes met.
It could have gone either way. Life or death. Success or failure.
His body smashed against the edge of the window, ribs squished like thick toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube. He later had massive internal bleeding but my grip on his forearm – hard enough to dislocate his shoulder – kept him from tipping over that edge.
The jeep nearly dragged him down.
Impulse and training and sheer will kept him alive. The jeep almost took me down, too.
And right now, Lindsay looks an awful lot like a random hand poking out of an open window on a bombed jeep that is about to go over a cliff.
We are naked, standing before each other, hands on her heart. The look on her face says so much.
Rescue me.
Love me.
Don’t leave.
I’m damaged.
Don’t shame me.
I’m sorry.
“How do you know?” she asks. “How do you know what I should or shouldn’t feel?” Her voice is so soft. There’s no challenge. No anger. Just a gentle request that I answer the mystery of the universe.
No pressure, right?
“I don’t claim to know you better than you know yourself, Lindsay.” I look down at our hands, together against her fine skin. “But I know that if you harbor shame inside you for how you’ve treated me, let it go. Let every fucking drop of it go. That’s not a burden you need to carry. All the shame is on John, Stellan and Blaine.”
She flinches at their names.
I reach to her chin and tip it up, so her eyes meet mine. “You are my world. My soul can release when I’m with you. My blood runs free and wild when you’re near. We’re meant for each other, my love.” Emotion chokes my throat, my heart slamming against my chest, trying to get out and hold hers.
She does not look away. Her fingers lace through mine, her tips digging into the sweet spot above her heart, her shaky inhale seemingly endless.
“I love you, Drew. I never stopped. It was just the pain of what I thought had happened that held me back. It consumed me. It blocked out everything else in the world. Now that I know the truth, I feel like I can see the sun again. I can breathe again. I can live.” She closes her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I can love.”
Her eyes fly open and lock on mine. “I can love you.”
Four years.
A bolt of pain shoots through me, paralyzing my heart. She finally trusts me. After all this time, all this heartache, so many years of struggle and hard work, I’m getting what I want.
Her.
Honesty is the best policy, right?
I need to tell her the truth. My truth.
But it sticks in my throat, choking me.
“I love you,” I rasp, the words pushed out of me so hard the air lifts tendrils of her hair, making them float. She gives me a kiss, her hands tightening around my shoulders, and I hug her back. She loves me. She trusts me.
Those bastards didn’t win.
Bzzz.
“Fucking phone,” I mutter, actually grateful for a break from Lindsay. the dissonance between our professions of love and my inner turmoil too much. I check the screen. Gentian.
Your suit is out here. The bathroom’s clear if you need to shower, he texts.
I make a sound close to a grunt. He’s ready to run a presidential campaign single-handed.
Tks, I type back.
And then I’m on top of Lindsay, my hands on her neck, my thighs on either side of her hips, my chest rubbing against her breasts, the friction of skin against skin generating an impulsive energy that fuels me.
“I am dangerously close to having your father not only fire me from managing security for you, but if he finds me in your bedroom, my ass will be kicked thoroughly.”
She pinches the ass in question. “You could totally beat my daddy in a cage fight.”
I kiss her and laugh at the same time.
“Not something I really want to test out, Lindsay,” I say, pulling myself off her, grateful to have a distraction. Sliding into my shorts and sweaty t-shirt, I watch as she crawls under the covers, her gorgeous shoulders peeking out over the top of the sheet.
I sigh.
I plant my hands on my hips and think for a few seconds. My phone says it’s 5:21 a.m. To be safe, I should get out of her bedroom by six. Meeting’s at seven, here at The Grove in the senator’s office, so it’s a fifty-fifty chance whether he’ll be here in person.
I need ten minutes to shower. Ten to shave.
Fuck it.
I grab my shorts and pull them down. The waistband snags on something hard.
I’m naked in three seconds, slithering under the sheets as Lindsay squeals.
I silence her with a kiss.