Page 87 of Never the Same

He surrendered and let me raise his hand, and I brought his palm to my face—four fingers on my jawline and his thumb resting on my throat. I gradually unwrapped my hand from his forearm.

Just when you think you can have whatever you want . . . it’s taken from you. I thought back to his words in the gym, understanding what had to be in his head now.

He wasn’t angry or enraged. He was scared and hurting, unsure how to cope with all his emotions hitting him at once. First, he’d never thought he could have me, and he did. Almost every part of me in that shower, in fact. Now he was probably assuming he was going to lose me, and he didn’t know what to do or how to handle that.

I had to shut down his worries before they spun out of control.

“I’m yours,” I said steadily, standing my ground so he’d know I meant it. This me, old me, all of me.

His brows drew together as his gaze slipped to his hand holding me captive like I wanted him to. “No.”

Sensing he was about to pull away, I snaked my hand around his wrist, a request to stay in place. “Yes.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “No,” he ground out.

“Yes.” I could do this all day. Never back down. He had to know that. My stubbornness was innate.

“If there’s a guy—”

“There is one,” I shot back, burying my nails into his skin. “You. I’m falling for you. Fairly certain I felt the same way before now, too.” I stretched my neck out, angling my head, then guided his hand to travel the length of my throat to my heart.

He closed his eyes. “No, you’re just confused, and I crossed the line to make things worse.”

“My soul knows the truth even if my head’s been corrupted.” I threaded my fingers with his, keeping our hands on my chest. “You didn’t cross any lines. I pushed you. I left the door open, invited you in. The only one to—”

“I walked in, didn’t I?” His eyes flashed open, haunting and full of heat. “I got in that shower with you knowing exactly what would happen. That I wouldn’t be able to resist you.” He lightly shook his head, some of that anger-pain evaporating before my eyes.

He shifted our palms alongside of us and hooked his other arm behind my back, unexpectedly drawing me flush against him. The weight of his erection pressed into me, and I trapped a moan behind my lips.

He rolled his hips once. I rolled mine right back.

A heartbeat later, he cursed a mild expletive under his breath. “I was wrong. Angry. Maybe even scared.” He paused, exhaling deeply. “I take back what I said about the shirts.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, confused myself now.

“If you’re going to wear someone else’s shirts, then they’ll be mine. Only mine,” he said like a commandment etched in stone. “And if there’s a guy . . .”

I opened my mouth to interrupt yet again, but he slanted his over mine, catching my lip between his teeth.

He slowly let go and pulled his head back, and a pulse of hot need shot through me. What were we talking about, again?

“If there’s a guy, then I’ll fight for you.” He freed his hand from mine and brought it between us to cup my chin. “I may not deserve you,” he began in a strained voice, “but for the first time in my life, I’ve found someone worth fighting for. Worth losing everything for if I have to as well.” He pushed his hand into my still-wet hair and held the back of my head before setting his lips to my temple. “I have to at least try, or I’ll never know. I understand that now.”

He didn’t have to lose me or lose anything. How could I get him to see that without him questioning me, considering I couldn’t even remember what I did last week?

In tempore veritas. In time, there is truth. He’ll see soon. Heck, so will I. Because I will remember everything. And this time, no fake hate. Just authenticity. Just love.

Mouth to my ear, cradling my head as my body shuddered with his breath dancing across my heated skin, he whispered, “I never truly believed I was worthy of a second chance after everything I’ve done . . .” His voice fractured on his last word. “But if this is God giving me one, then who am I to say no?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Reed

I hung back by Ranger, holding his leash while remaining a good distance from everyone as they said their goodbyes.

Ryder, Alex, Hollis, and myself would be taking a military flight overseas, and everyone else would be traveling with Trevor to DC, including my dog.

Charleston International was a civil-military airport—having JB Charleston, a joint base, in proximity to our neighborhood was just one benefit of living in the area. Another? Having a pilot friend able to whisk our family and friends away on a moment’s notice. Well, if he wasn’t on an operation, but thankfully, Owen York had been home today.