1. Novel

  2. Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

  3. Severed Heart: Chapter 28
Severed Heart (Ravenhood Legacy Book 2)

Severed Heart: Chapter 28

“SLIPPIN’” BY DMX croons from a nearby speaker playing background to Sean’s latest philosophical rant. One I’ve tuned out of from where I sit in a child-sized bean bag on Dom’s bedroom floor.
“You’re missing my point, man,” Sean argues while pinching the joint between his fingers. Ankles crossed, his dirty boots hang over the edge of Dom’s decades-old twin mattress. Perched against the wall at the head of it, Dom flips the page of the book in his lap.
“I don’t think you have a point,” I grumble, peering through the gap of Dom’s bedroom door to the vacant room across the hall. Tobias’s recent extended absences are more notable since he gambled his way into becoming a millionaire and forming Exodus. That power play starting a pendulum swing, its underside serving as the chopping blade now gradually lowering toward Roman.
With Sean stepping up and my current army positioned, I’m as comfortable as I can be leaving. Aside from the guttural ache for the woman somewhere in this house, that has me mentally pushing back the departure date further and further away. I’ve exhausted myself in the days since our fight to give her space. Continually running past my recruiter’s office to avoid the signature, pulling extra shifts at the garage, upping my workouts, as well as wearing my fucking wrist out in the shower—the usual.
Growing more and more anxious to get to her with every hourly chirp of my watch, my hope rides on that if we can work things out, I’ll be stationed close. Luckily enough, there are plenty of bases within driving distance, so I can keep a close watch on the club while lengthening our growing roster. Hopefully, while still earning the woman I’m growing desperate to claim.
That is if I can get her to give in. Aside from the physical, it’s been surreal to get so close to her. If the attraction wasn’t so fucking brutally apparent now, I might’ve been able to settle for our friendship alone. Now that it’s out there, I can’t let it go. The torture is evident in my obvious agitation in these last few days and only made more apparent when Sean brings his Zippo to the end of his newly rolled joint.
“Don’t light that shit while I’m in this room,” I snap.
Dom flips another page without looking up. “Don’t be a dick. You know his piss has to sparkle.”
“Is secondhand smoke a myth?” Sean quips with the click of his Zippo, running the flame teasingly along the joint. “Shall we find out?”
“Fuck you.” I stand to make a quick exit while giving him a withering look. Closing his book, Dom, too, glares at Sean, no added words necessary.
“Jesus, I wasn’t going to light it,” Sean says, ducking under our wrath-filled stares. “I was just fucking around.”
“Remember the last time you fucked around and ended up with a piss puddle in your panties?” Dom clips, rubbing salt in the long-healing wound between Sean and me, his brand of brash far worse than his aunt’s.
“Jesus, Dom,” I expel on exhale, shooting him a cutting look.
“Sorry, man,” Sean clips toward me, eyes lowering.
“It’s cool, brother,” I assure, after noting his long swallow. “I’m just in a shit head space tonight.”
His stinging eyes lift at my tone, holding mine for a beat before he nods.
“I think I’ll go for a run,” I give in an excuse to make my exit.
“Don’t stray too far,” Sean says, “we shouldn’t be long.”
Their mission tonight is to do recon for their upcoming heist. One I had a major hand in devising but am not allowed in any way to participate in. An order doled out by both King brothers because of how close I am to marching.
“I’m good. I’ll just catch up with y’all tomorrow.” As I start to make my exit, I spot the plastic-wrapped cap and gown hanging on the back of Dom’s bedroom door and glance at him. “Tobias coming?”
Dom lifts a shoulder without looking up. “Wouldn’t know. You talk to him more than me these days.”
Sean catches my gaze, giving me a subtle shake of his head that the subject of Tobias is off-limits. While Tobias might skip the ceremony to keep a low profile, I know he’ll be here to celebrate after in some way.
Closing the door of Dom’s room as they spark up, I stalk through the house, following the drift of French music to spot Delphine’s boom box on the ledge of the open kitchen window—a tape playing, pouring a melody through the open screen.
As I approach the sliding glass door, I spot dozens of drafts of the maps I requested on the table. The sight of what looks like endless hour’s worth of effort has my insides rattling. Confirmation that she’s been thinking of me since the night I scooped her from the kitchen floor for the first time in months. Gutted that I was the reason for her overindulgence that night as I tucked her in and whispered my promise. Knowing she heard me, her eventual return whisper saying as much as she called my name in summons just after I reached her bedroom door. It was all I could do to continue to give her the space she asked for. It was both brutal and beautiful to watch her realize her feelings for me. So much so it’s been a different kind of fucking hell delaying whatever decision waits for me on the other side of the glass door.
A door I’m stopped just outside of by the view that greets me. The tiny soldier that’s utterly captured me—mind and heart—sways in the middle of her yard, arms wrapped around her as if she’s self-soothing. Hands gripping her hips, her head is tilted skyward, and I quickly burn the vision of her into memory as I have so many others.
All images of the formidable, temperamental woman I knew now erased by the sight of her running off the pond dock and jumping into the water while plugging her nose like an eight-year-old.
Another image of her drip drying on the dock, just after, hand propping her head as my eyes traced the curves of her body a second before she turned back and beamed at me. The animation on her face as she watched her first movie in a theater. Telling stories across the firelight at the orchard. Playing Battle. Sharing snow cones while watching the sunset on my tailgate. Filling our days with simple things and enjoying simple pleasures as our feelings became anything but.
Years of memories between us now. Years together where we went from mentor and pupil to friends and to whatever she decides we are now.
Following her line of sight, I take in her view. Lightning flashes in the distance, defining the silhouette of the trees hovering over the wooden fence. A faint littering of stars twinkles just next to a looming storm cloud. Just below, a luminous half-moon sits nestled between the branches of a large oak. Thunder rumbles the ground for a few lingering seconds, and Delphine doesn’t so much as flinch. Lost in thought or some memory, she continues to sway, hugging herself in the middle of the yard.
The wind kicks up slightly as I, in turn, get swept away by the sight of her. And fuck, how I love the look of every inch of her. My attraction only amplified by the darkness she camouflages, which, to me, feels like a jagged turnkey, a key that lines up perfectly with my inner lock.
A turnkey who’s harnessed everything that resides inside me, which, by the second, feels on the brink of coming undone.
Leaning against the brick to the side of the door, I fall further with every sharp inhale of want, contented enough by simply watching her as the tips of her dark hair dance across the expanse of her small back. She’s dressed in white shorts and a tube top—both her shoulders and feet bare.
Even as I decide laying eyes on her is enough for now, I both feel and see it the second she senses me and looks over her naked shoulder.
“Tyler, it’s the perfect night!” she declares, subtly wiping her eyes, her voice tearful, which has my chest cracking wide open, confirming what I already know. It’s me she’s thinking of, and my imminent departure causing her tears. Certain of it, I also know it’ll be hell in making her admit it.
“Come, dance with me,” she urges.
“It’s about to storm,” I point out uselessly. She waves away my objection, but I stay where I am, knowing how dangerously close I am to my breaking point.
“Come,” she whispers. “Come dance with me, Soldier,” she urges, reaching out for me. Blowing out a breath of defeat, I push off my heels, head and chest buzzing with the feelings already bouncing between us.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” I admit, gripping her offered hand and halting her movement by pulling her into me. The impact of her hits me harder than I expected as I allow her to decide where my free hand will go. As she situates us, her hand grips mine before she rests our now threaded fingers against my chest and draws the other to rest on the small of her exposed back. When she begins to sway, I mimic her movement, inhaling her light musk, which catapults my thirst into overdrive.
Kicking myself in the ass for indulging her, I shadow her lead as light rain starts to fall. It’s the sight of Dom’s bedroom light going dark, and the rumble of his Camaro seconds after that permits me to get lost in her. The feel of her in my arms negates all fucks I have left to give in that respect as she hums, her light, airy voice vibrating along my chest. My entire body ignites as I press my splayed fingers into her silken bare skin and pull her tighter to me, stroking my thumb lightly down her spine.
“What is this music?”
Her sigh is breezy before she speaks. “A song I used to dance to with my papa. In the wildflowers.”
“It’s catchy,” I tell her, “I like it.”
She laughs lightly. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m listening. I’m trying to understand what the fuss is about.”
“It was a different time,” she utters as I pull her closer, taking liberties because while she might be buzzed, I’m already drunk on her. It’s while listening that my chest bounces at the irony. I lean down and begin to whisper in her ear.
“Oh, she was so beautiful, I dared not to love her. Oh, she was so beautiful, I cannot forget her.”
It takes a few seconds for me to realize she’s stopped dancing and is gaping at me. “You truly are fluent.”
“I have two French best friends.” I shrug. “So it made sense to opt for French instead of Spanish.” Though I don’t mention, I’m fluent in both and adding German by the day.
“It’s humiliating you can speak my language so fluently after such a short education while I’m still trying very hard to master yours,” she admits sheepishly.
“You’re succeeding.”
“Maybe verbally, but my texting is still terrible,” she whispers.
“It’s perfect to me,” I murmur, dropping my eyes so she can’t read what I’m hiding. Of what I’m becoming more certain of, especially after talking to my mom about what her ailments are, where they might stem from, and how. It’s a serious discussion we need to have, but the when of relaying this is tricky—along with her responsiveness to the conversation.
The moon sinks further between the branches of the oak as I glance away briefly to try to regain my bearings. The wind kicks up slightly, and the rain is still light, more of a drizzle lining our skin with droplets.
“Well, maybe one day, when you forgive me, you’ll let me practice my French with you.”
“I told you I will never forgive you,” she counters. “When are you leaving?”
“That hasn’t changed since our fight.” I grip her tighter. “The end of summer. Which is still months away, General. We have time to fish, swim, play Battle, and watch movies. Anything you want.”
“Imbecile,” she spouts, hurling the insult without giving a damn whether it hits or not. “Why, Tyler?”
“Stop. You understand why,” I scold, cutting the bullshit, and her eyes drop with that win. “You couldn’t possibly be reviving this argument because you’re going to miss me?” I ask, point-blank. One last stretch of my hand, of my fucking heart.
“Hmm, one less mouth to feed,” she jabs, her eyes lifting to mine as a soft smile tilts her lips. A smile that guts me. Another dismissal.
“As if you cook,” I jibe back, my tone lacking life before I press our tethered fingers into my chest. “Tu vas me manquer.” I’ll miss you.
She stills briefly, but I don’t miss it—the hesitation. We continue to sway until the song ends, and another begins to play. “So, what’s got you in the dancing mood tonight?”
“I don’t know,” she lies, “what puts you in a mood?”
“Lots of things,” I answer just as vaguely.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” she reproaches as we continue to hold each other like the world is fucking ending while making small talk. She’s lying about her mood, her eyes reflective of that as the need to confront her summons all the willpower I have left.
“Doing what?” I counter in a tone of clear condescension.
She looks up at me through thick black lashes. “Mimics . . . mimicking me.”
“Ah, well, you’re currently doling out bullshit like a Pez dispenser, so I didn’t think you would mind.”
She wrinkles her perfect nose, and the light smattering of freckles is more pronounced due to her short length of time in the spring sun—with me.
“What is a Pez?”
“A sweet candy that comes in small doses.” I widen my eyes. “Kind of like your good moods.”
“And you’re ruining it with your smart mouth,” she quips.
“Liar,” I rasp out. “You love my smart mouth. You love that I spar with you.”
A few beats pass as we stare on at one another, fully absorbed before she speaks, her tone clearly affected. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe I’ll miss my soldier.” Her voice shakes with the delivery, as does the last of my patience.
Unable to handle another second, I grip the back of her head and tilt her face up to mine. “How much?”
Her eyes search mine frantically, and I see a hint of fear before she tries to pull away from me.
“Tyler—”
“Tell me I’m imagining what’s been happening between us, and I’ll call you out on that lie.”
“You are.”
“God dammit, stop it,” I scratch out, gripping her tighter, “enough.”
She immediately starts spouting out some reasoning I know is contrived. “We’ve been spending much time together and have a very strong friendship and care for one another deeply. There can be nothing more. Don’t be an imbecile. You’re a young boy.”
I take her blow and rebound just as quickly.
“I’m both a man and the soldier you helped to create, and you’ve done an incredible job of ignoring it these last few weeks, fucking months, but I’m not alone in this anymore, even if you don’t want it to be true.”
“You’re doing exactly what I told you not to do that night,” she says adamantly, still trying to loosen herself from my grip.
“What night?” I ask, knowing exactly what night things started to shift and perking up at her mention of it. “And what was it you told me?”
“Not to make promises that you won’t keep. Saying things—”
“You heard me.” Her eyes instantly drop, confirming she heard the whisper I left her with the night of her date. Fire lights in my veins at the truth of it. “Nice try, General, but your most important lesson about being a watcher, an observer is pinpointing motive. If you ignore that you heard it, you don’t have to acknowledge it happened. You fucking heard me whisper those words to you and know I meant them,” I declare, cupping her face with my palm while bending eye level. “Are you drunk?”
“Why?”
“Are. You. Drunk?”
“Tyler, I—”
“Like I’d fucking care if you were.” I force whatever words she starts to convey away as I crush her mouth with mine, my kiss anything but gentle. Gripping her hip, I pull her fully into me, and she gasps against my lips, feeling just how fucking hard I am—everywhere—for her. Her return kiss is hesitant as I rebuke any resistance with the swipe of my tongue demanding entry, and she slowly, so slowly, opens for me.
Groaning due to the permission, I thrust in and feel her breath catch as I taste and explore, licking the roof of her mouth. Delving into every corner, I savor the feel of it, relieved by the fact she’s kissing me back.
She’s kissing me back.
Our tentative kiss turns wildfire as I dive in fully, my lust in overdrive.
Her moan vibrates my tongue as I groan in response, my body lit, every muscle coiling as I let myself go—fusing every thought, every fantasy, every single memory of her I can conjure into my kiss. Palming her ass, I lift her as she clasps her hands behind my neck, curling into me as I roll her against my length so she can feel what she does to me.
Rain begins to pelt the iron table feet away, the storm intensifying around us, mirroring the culmination of emotions inside me as I devour her, fusing them into the contact. Inhaling every one of her moans as fuel, I keep the connection, keeping the kiss going while refusing to let up.
Now that I’m positive it’s mutual, I’m not fucking letting it go. As if she senses that decision, she pulls back abruptly.
“Mon Dieu,” she pants against my lips before glancing around us frantically, “what am I doing? Tyler, put me down.”
“We’re alone, Delphine.” I blow out a harsh breath, not loosening my arms one bit. “Don’t pull away from me. Damn you,” I whisper hoarsely. “We both want this.”
“Are you crazy? Put me down right now,” she orders, more insistently, even as her eyes linger on my lips.
Seizing the moment once more, I capture her mouth, and her whimpered protest brings my cock to a raging status. The kiss cut far too short when she again rips herself away.
“Tyler,” she croaks, in a way I know her protest is hard won, “let me down.” Reluctantly, I release her slowly—keeping her close as possible as I do—so she can feel just how fucking much I want her. Her fast intake of breath my only consolation. Once on her feet, she turns abruptly to head back toward the house. Bending from the impact, I palm my thighs with a low “fuck” before she turns back to me on a dime.
“This never happened.” Her voice carries on the increasing wind surrounding us.
“Oh, it happened,” I snap, stalking toward her as she retreats, backing her against the brick of the house next to the open door. “We’re not breaking any fucking laws, and before you go spouting off about age and what’s appropriate, save your breath. I’m not listening to that bullshit.”
Chest heaving, her nipples spike through her dampening tube top as her body naturally draws up against me. The dim yellow porch light illuminating us enough to clearly see one another as I stand my ground.
“Denying it won’t make it true,” I whisper forcefully. “That kiss said differently, and you’re not going to convince me otherwise.”
She shakes her head incredulously. “You expect me to take this . . . you seriously?”
“Yes, and when I get back from—”
“Never.” She jerks her chin. “I don’t wait for men.”
“Then I’ll be your first because I’m worth waiting for.”
She gapes at me. “Confessions of a boy with misplaced affection.”
“Declarations of a fucking man who’s already matured beyond his years. I haven’t been a boy in a long time because my life and the people in it made it that way. And you know it, you fucking know it. Ask me in a year how I feel about you, and I’ll say the same, and the year after that.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she dismisses.
“I haven’t even begun because you’ve refused to let me, so why don’t you hear me out before you turn me down.” I swallow. The need inside to convince her to believe me has every word coming out raw and unrehearsed, never truly thinking I’d get the chance to utter any of them.
“There will be no other women for me because there is no other woman meant for me. I’m certain there is no other woman alive who will hear these types of promises from me because you’re all I want.”
She pauses, her eyes glazing over as she shakes her head in disbelief.
“Wait for me, and I’ll give you any life you can dream up.”
“One kiss and you think you have some say in my future and expect me to stay faithful?” She harrumphs. “You must be joking.”
“Look at me,” I snap. She does, her eyes searching, forever searching.
“Jesus, how you’re fucking tap dancing right now.” I hold her gaze. “We both know this isn’t just about the kiss, and this”—I gesture between us—“runs far deeper than physical. Trust me with your heart, trust me with that much. When I get back—”
“Non,” she clips. “I won’t entertain this, you, another second. You’re a boy, and I’m—”
“Call me a boy one. More. Fucking. Time,” I grit out in warning as irritation attempts to take the reins, but it’s my heart that grips it before firmly pressing it back under. “We both know I’m more of a man than any other fucking sorry excuse you’ve dragged into this house the last few years. And I only say a few because that’s how long I’ve been paying attention. Since the first time I truly saw you for who you really are, not what you hide behind or your cruelty and attention-seeking tantrums.”
Her body tenses with the insult as I press in.
“You were right. There is a side to me that exists that most don’t and won’t see.” I rake my lower lip as her eyes flare in surprise. “One I’ve been biding my time to introduce you to, but only if you finally saw me for the man I am. And you did, you have, maybe for longer than you’re admitting to yourself, but it happened.”
“Tyler,” she counters, as if reasoning with me, “you are a boy—”
Within a heartbeat, I’ve got her plastered to the side of the house, facing the brick. “I warned you,” I hiss, holding her in position with one palm while running the other along her smooth stomach as I dip to deliver another. “Mask off, Delphine.”
Rain ticks loudly on the overhang above us as I wrap her hair in my fist, gently pulling it to the side while I bite into her shoulder. Her answering moan spurs me on as I inhale her scent, flirting the pads of my fingers along the top of her shorts to make my intent known.
“Une si belle femme.” So beautiful.
Heart sputtering wildly as she sags against me, I force myself to further test the waters, unbuttoning her shorts and pausing to give her another chance to object. Her answering whimper has me sliding my palm into her shorts, my fingertips gliding into the silky top of her underwear and straight through her soaked slit. I don’t bother to hold my groan when I find her drenched and needy. Fast pants start to leave her as she arches her back, sliding her arm up to hook my neck while gripping my hair. To pull me closer.
Closer.
Permission.
Every single cell in my body ignites, white-hot fire roaring in my chest as I fight my instincts to go feral and devour her. Whispering my lips against the curve of her neck, I bide my time, calming myself to the point I can effectively speak.
“Every day,” I relay roughly, rimming her pussy before thrusting a finger into her. She buckles against me as I keep her upright. “For fucking years.” I bring the slick pad up to her clit, whispering it in tease before driving it back into her. “I’ve imagined touching you like this.” I bite into her shoulder a second time as she arches further against me in offering. “Kissing you.” I flick my tongue along the shell of her ear, palming her mouth to muffle her escalating moans to ensure she hears me. “Fucking you, making you come. Just the thought of stretching your pussy with my cock is enough to get me off.” Her moan vibrates my palm as she bucks her hips, and I massage her with my fingertips before plunging back into her insanely tight, wet heat.
“The idea of us coming together this way.” Lust coats every word of my admissions as she soaks my fingers, sinking against me, gasping against my palm. “It’s everything. You are all I want.”
Freedom zings through me as I start to kiss her neck, running my fingers back and forth, bringing her close until I know she’s agitated. Until her hips start to frantically buck for more friction. As I pull my palm away, unchecked, choppy moans begin to leave her as I escalate the workings of my fingers. Purposely stirring her up as my cock strains in my jeans, begging for some relief, for her. Denying us both but satisfied as she continues to writhe against me, I pull my soaked fingers out of her, cutting off her protest by pushing them through her parted lips.
“A boy couldn’t get you this wet. You won’t be fantasizing about what this man would’ve done to you had you shut the hell up.”
Stiff in surprise, she hesitates a beat before closing her mouth around my fingers and sucking with abandon. I curse, eyes fluttering when she adds her tongue. The swirl of it around the tips of my fingers has my control slipping briefly as I run my raging cock along her back. As she starts to shake in want, I pull my fingers out of her mouth.
Slowly turning her against the brick, I command her eyes, willing her to face the man doing this to her. Chest heaving, eyes wide, pupils dilating with desire, she gapes up at me. Into the wildfire that I’m sure reflects in my eyes as I suck on my fingers to savor what’s left. Once I’ve taken my taste, I palm the brick beside her head and bend so we’re eye level.
“I don’t live like a boy, think, act, or fuck like a boy. So, it’s probably best that you brush up on that definition before you ever think about applying it to me again.”
Gripping her hip, I yank her bottom half flush to me, flipping up her tube top and exposing her breasts before running my calloused palm over them—stroking her pebbled nipple deftly before roaming to the other. With my open hand, I run back and forth between her perfect tits and peaked nipples, getting lost in the sight of her silken skin. In the look of her, submissive and wanton beneath my touch as her eyes hood into silver slits.
As close to naked as I can get her where we are, I put enough space between us to slide my hand into her shorts before flipping my wrist to thrust my fingers into her soaked pussy. Adding my thumb, I start to slowly massage her clit as she shakes under my touch.
“Ah, mon Dieu,” she cries out, her back arched against the brick, body drawn taut, arms dangling lifelessly at her sides. Keeping my fingers going, I dip and pull one of her pebbled nipples into my mouth, sucking feverishly before lapping at it with my tongue.
Gasping, she clutches my head to her chest as I slowly fuck her with my hand, biting lightly at her nipple before soothing it with both lips. I work her just enough to keep her on edge and wanting. Enough to keep her focused on my touch but aching for more. Aching for me.
When I pull away, leaving both of her perfect tits soaked with my kiss, I stare down at her with every bit of pent-up desire I’ve been shielding for far too fucking long. Her silver-gray stare remains latched to mine, feeding the lightning buzz now ricocheting between us.
Free hand roaming, I greedily cover every inch of her exposed skin. Running my fingers along her throat, palming her shoulders, her breasts, her torso, and her stomach.
“Do you feel beautiful, Delphine?” I whisper as she arches into my every touch, responding eagerly to every single movement, body drawn just as tight as her pussy is around my fingers. Lips swollen from our kiss, she watches me lick my own for remnants of her taste.
Dying to sink to my knees for more, I’m too entranced by her response to give up a second of it. Slowing my fingers, I again palm the brick next to her, leaning in as she writhes under my touch.
“Look at me, baby,” I murmur with every ounce of the love I feel. “Look into your soldier’s eyes, listen to his voice, and you’ll see just how beautiful you are to him. You’ll understand what touching you like this does to him,” I order as her body hums against mine with need for release. “You’ll realize to him you are anything but poison.”
Her eyes eagerly soak in my expression as I slow my touch as she chases it with her body. In and out, I stroke her intimately with my fingers as I beg her to see what’s in my eyes, my heart.
“Can you sense what’s happening inside me? How good this feels for me because of how beautiful you are inside and out? Answer me,” I order, rimming her again, tracing her soaked entrance before extending my finger as far as it can go. I’m rewarded with an entire body shiver. “Tell me, can you see how beautiful you are when you look at me?”
“Oui,” she croaks. “I see, Tyler,” she rasps out, her eyes watering as I hesitantly withdraw my fingers. She mewls in protest as I slowly lean in, brushing her lips lightly as I unbutton my jeans. Her eyes drop as I take one of her idle hands and cover my heart while taking her other and guiding it into my boxers to wrap it around my cock.
“Yours,” I declare. “This”—I cover the hand on my heart—“is yours, and this”—I squeeze the hand now holding my cock and thrust it a few times into her firm grip—“also belongs to you.”
Her silver eyes shine brighter before she releases her fearful tears while I do all I can to quiet them, banish them.
“Utterly and entirely yours,” I whisper in offering as she stares up at me, her lips parted, her return expression granting me my answer before I ask the question. “Tell me, beautiful,” I ask her, as tears spill over her cheeks, “is love lying to you right now?”
Her answer comes out in a croak. “Non.”
Our pull magnetic, I dip just as she lifts, and our lips meet in a soul-rending kiss. We take our time exploring, discovering, and feeding, our tongues dueling in a perfect mix until we’re gasping, and our hands are eagerly mapping the other. When I pull back, I don’t stray far, our foreheads touching. Chests still heaving, I lower her top and refasten her shorts while feeling her watchful eyes on my profile. Meeting them, I rebuke the guilt I see starting to threaten.
“All you should feel, or that I hope you feel right now, is safe,” I murmur, “worshipped and beautiful. I want to give that to you and so much fucking more.” I press my forehead gently into hers. “What’s happening here, what’s happening between us, started pure and remains pure.” I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “It happened gradually and naturally. Neither of us forced this. Just . . . wait for me. I can’t be here for you while I’m gone, but I’ll come right back to you.”
She refutes my words. “I’m not your problem, Soldier.”
“No, what you are, is my fucking reason,” I declare, pulling back slightly to command her eyes. “My reason to fight and my reason to come home. You are home. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“You say these things, but you don’t know what your life will become.”
“I know what I want it to be,” I utter. “And I’m standing here telling you that whatever happens outside of us will revolve around the two of us, not the other way around if you let this, us, happen.”
She shakes her head adamantly. “You’re going to become something you cannot deny or push aside for something as silly as a woman. Tyler, your future is so big—”
“You’re not just any woman, never have been or will be for me, and I know fucking well what promises I can and will keep, especially when it comes to you. Don’t presume to tell me how to think anymore. You’ve done enough of that. Not when it comes to this, anyway. This is where I prove to you that a man can be worth waiting for. I know a part of you believes me. Trust that part because I know you trust me.”
Dipping, I press one more kiss to her lips and look her right in the eyes with a soul-deep declaration. “Your soldier. Loyally and faithfully yours.”
She softens against me, even as she gives an incredulous slight shake of her head. “Tyler—”
Kissing her one last time to quiet what I can of her fears, I pull away and fasten my jeans, slowly inching backward to the fence as my entire being lights with fury that I’m no longer touching her. But I can’t have her the way I want to tonight. I’ve come on too strong already, and I want to let the idea settle. I want it to be her decision if we get more physical. Our eyes remain locked like magnets, even as I land on the other side of the fence. I revel in the fact that she’s staring after me in the way I’ve been praying for while considering my words, considering us. So, when she opens her mouth to speak, I beat her to it.
“It’s already done,” I declare vehemently. “It’s done, Delphine.”
Tearing my eyes from her, I turn and stalk home, my chest alight with that truth.
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