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He winces, then squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I knew, when I gave the order, that I was sealing her fate, and that of her teammates, but I couldn’t hesitate. It was either their lives or those of the many thousands of civilians back home. It was supposed to be a straightforward mission. Only, they were ambushed.” His voice turns hoarse, as if it’s physically painful to relive what happened. “They were taken to the headquarters of the terrorists. We knew the leader of the insurgents was there. They were confident we wouldn’t take them out, as long as they had some of our team”—he swallows—“so I... I... “
“You had to capitalize on the element of surprise and take them out.”
My voice seems to cut through his thoughts. He opens his eyes and stares at me. “I’ve never told anyone the entire story.” He seems taken aback. Frankly, so am I. I hadn't expected him to share that with me.
"It must have taken a lot of courage to give the order.”
He straightens his shoulders. “I knew what had to be done. I knew it would hurt Ryot and, likely, destroy my relationship with him, but I did it anyway. And you know what? Faced with the same choice, I’d do it all over again. It was the right thing to do. That was my role. My job. To fight for the safety of those back home. I had to do what was needed, regardless of the repercussions.” He says the last few words with a touch of defiance. There’s a challenging look on his face.
Does he expect me to run screaming because he revealed himself as someone who gave the order that killed people, including those within his own family? Does he expect me to... turn down his proposal? I shake my head. That makes no sense, unless… He’s testing me? I thought I was pushing him to reveal his secrets. Turns out, he was pushing me, as well.
“I understand why you did it,” I declare.
“You do, huh?” His tone is disbelieving.
“You did your duty. You were put in a position where you had to make tough decisions. The kind that could rip you of your humanity. Yet, you didn’t back down. You didn’t blink. You made that choice, to bear the repercussions of your actions, so people like me could sleep peacefully in our beds at night.”
He searches my face, and must see something that reassures him, for his shoulders relax the tiniest fraction, “Thank you for understanding.” He clears his throat. “That’s the first time I’ve spoken to someone about it.”
“Thank you for sharing, it couldn't have been easy for you to do that.”
Our gazes meet, and hold. That old tension between us is back, with an added intimacy. Because he’s had his tongue inside me. He knows how I taste, how I cry when I come. The air grows thick with unspoken emotions. The way he’s looking at me, I’m sure he’s going to close the distance between us and kiss me, and I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from responding. Again. I need a little more time to process my feelings toward him. To understand why my body wants to obey his commands.
“So, that’s why you were letting yourself get beaten up by Ryot? You thought you deserved it? You were trying to give him a chance at payback?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Guilty as charged.”
“But you didn’t lose the fight,” I point out.
“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “I heard your voice urging me to fight. Turns out, I couldn’t let myself lose and lose face, not when my girl was in the crowd watching.”
A warmth pools in my chest... and also in between my legs. Oh, my god. That is the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me. Do I have that much power over him? It’s heady, and I like it. “Your girl, huh?” I murmur.
“Am I wrong in calling you that?” His voice drops an octave, taking on that hard edge which instantly sends liquid heat shooting through my veins.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, considering I’m still not sure if I like you.” I sniff. What a liar you are. Just because you say aloud that you don’t like him doesn’t make it true. Also, you don’t sound convincing at all.
"You don’t like me?" He smirks. And of course, he called me out. Can’t get anything past this guy, can I?
"No, I don’t." I tip up my chin. I have no choice but to continue this pretense, which neither of us believes in the slightest.
His grin widens. "That’s not the impression I got when you were wailing my name in my car earlier."
Once more, I flush to roots of my hair. "I... I wasn’t wailing,” I sputter.
"Funny, it sounded like you were positively screaming in pleasure."
I huff. "It’s not gentlemanly reminding me of that."
"But I’m not a gentleman. In fact"—he leans in close enough for our noses to almost bump—"I’m sure you don’t want a gentleman, do you?”
I swallow.
"You like the idea of a bad boy.”
My lips part, and air whistles out between my teeth.
He nods. “Ah, yes. Look at you, being excited. Do you like the idea of being disciplined? Do you want to be punished when you're bratty?”
