Page 45 of Wrecked With You

“I don’t need a nap,” I say, making him laugh. Or, at least, making him grin.

“I meant it about the coffee,” he adds, making us each a cup in the single-serve machine. “And the patio,” he says as he passes me a cup.

I follow him outside, then sit cross-legged at the foot of the double-style lounger. “Is this where we plan the real mission?”

He shakes his head as he sits on the edge of the lounge, close enough I could reach out and touch him. I want to, but I don’t. Both because we should be in work mode right now, and because I’m frustrated by my own desire. This low, buzzing need to reach out to him. To feel that connection that has been strangely, uncomfortably, amazingly growing since he waltzed into my house and convinced me that he truly wanted me on this job.

“What’s going on,” I press as he stays silent. “Are you worried about Thea? She seems—”

“I’m going to sign on at Stark Security.”

“Oh.” I want to say more, but every word I ever knew is stuck in my throat. “That’s great. You’ll be an amazing asset.”

“It occurred to me that they’ll probably match us up as partners. Especially after this mission.”

I lift a shoulder. “I suppose. Is that a problem?” I can’t keep the edge out of my voice. Or the anger out of the words that tumble out. “Because if you’re worried that I’ll get all possessive and strange just because we tumbled around naked, don’t worry. We had a good time, you’re a great fuck, and I’m sure you’ll be an awesome partner, too.”

A muscle in his cheek twitches, but his eyes are flat. At first he says nothing. Then he nods. “Right. Well, cool. I guess we’re good then. I hope we do work together. You’ve got serious skills.”

“Back at you,” I say, fuming a bit and hating myself for it. Why is it so easy to burst into a room I know is full of armed morons and yet I can’t manage to tell this guy that even though I don’t understand why, he means more to me than a casual fuck?

He hesitates, and I think maybe he’s going to say something. But then he stands and turns and heads for the door.

Good. Great. Terrific. Relationships are messy and complicated and confusing. Not something I’ve ever aspired to, and not something I need now.

Which is a big fat lie, and since my biggest rule is to never lie to Eliza or myself, I am all sorts of confused at the moment.

And that emotional status devolves into a whirlwind of hope and teenage-girlish angst when he stops at the doorway, turns around, and says harshly, “Fuck it.”

“Excuse me?” I snap back, but he ignores my tone, and thank God for that. He crosses over the flagstones in two long strides, grabs my upper arms, and hauls me to my feet.

“Hey!”

“Just let me get this out and then you can ream me nine ways from Sunday. But I’m falling for you, dammit. And I am this close—this close—to nailing that son-of-a-bitch Serpent. Which means I’m about to have a life again, maybe for the first time. And maybe I’m an idiot, but I want you in it. As my partner,” he says. “On the job and off.”

“Good God. Is this a proposal?”

He actually bursts out laughing. “If you could see your face.”

I reach for his hand. “Wait,” I say, though he’s not going anywhere. Maybe my face did look confused, but I guess I didn’t look terrified or horrified, because he seems to know I don’t want him to go. Hell, he seems to have figured it out even before I did.

“Wait?” he repeats, softer now. “What am I waiting for?”

“For my apology?” I draw a breath, then let it out slowly. “Everything you just said. Ditto.”

His mouth curves into a vibrant smile. “And I thought men were supposed to be the taciturn ones.”

“Yeah, well, how’s this. I’m sorry I played turtle and dove into myself. If you do something scary like pull out a ring, I’ll dive right back in again. But this—what you’re suggesting, I mean. Being partners in work and in life. Being together. Yeah. I don’t know why, but I want to try it.”

“Thanks a lot.”

I grin. “Fair enough. I do know why. It’s you. You snuck into my heart when I wasn’t expecting it. Wouldn’t be fair to kick you out without giving you a fair shot.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs me to my feet. “Emma?”

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.” And then, thank goodness, he kisses me.