Page 56 of August

“So have you.”

He shrugged. “I feel useless as shit.” He took a seat next to her and opened the foil. “You made naan?” he said, leaning forward and diving in. “Seriously?”

She chuckled. “It’s pretty easy actually.” She took a piece for herself and ripped off a chunk of the warm, moist flatbread.

August scooped chicken and rice into his mouth and closed his eyes in appreciation. “Damn, this is exactly what I’ve been missing the last two years.” He opened his eyes and his heated gaze ensnared her attention, making her heart pitter-patter in her chest.

“Really? Just the naan?” she asked tentatively. Seductively.

His mouth lifted at the corner and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “’Course not. I missed the tikka masala, too.”

She tipped back her head and a laugh rolled out. “You’re terrible.” With an elbow propped on the table, she pointed a finger at him, and his hand closed around hers before she could put it down.

With his large palm snuggly over her hand, her breath stilled. August’s eyes never left her face. Their emerald hues swirled with a mixture of feelings she couldn’t read. Passion? Lust? Regret. That was definitely there.

“I’ve missed you, Gigi. I missed you when I went on that fucking mission. I missed you in the jungle. I missed you more when I got back on American soil. And it gutted me when I found out you were engaged and I’d have to continue to miss you for the rest of my life.”

Her bottom lip went slack. His words slammed into her like darts being fired at a corkboard, each one disarming her. She swallowed, but the ball of remorse in her throat wouldn’t let her move her tongue.

“Gigi.” The syllables came out heavy. Pained. As if it took all his strength to utter her name. “I’ll never leave again. I don’t know what we have here,” he said, flicking his gaze around the dining room. “But I know I want more of it.”

“Me, too.” It was all she could muster. What else could she say?

Oh, god, August. I’m falling for you. No, I already fell for you. So hard it hurt. And now I can’t stop the gravitational pull that might impale me. Because lord knows I’m going to get hurt if something happens to you...

He winked. “Eat up. I’ve got dessert.” He released his hold and went back to his food. Her cheeks flamed at the implication and a deep tingle settled low in her abdomen, wanting release.

Then pain weaved through her chest, its merciless bites threatening to steal her happiness, warning her that this couldn’t last. That all the sex in the world couldn’t promise tomorrow.

That whatever this was between them could end as fast as it had started.

And leave her with a gaping hole in her chest.

CHAPTER 18

August sat in the living room with the lights low. The reflection of the room shone in the large windows, and the inky blackness outside was peppered with small lights from buildings and cars.

After dinner, he’d swooped Gigi to bed. He hadn’t been able to wait another minute to get her naked and touch her. To kiss her body. To have her sing as he licked and toyed with her. Afterward, he’d sunk into her slick wetness and his brain had melted into nirvana.

Christ, everything about Gigi was perfect. Life with her was fucking perfect. Minus the fact that they were running for their lives and the cartel was trying to kill the woman he loved—

No. Don’t go there, you moron.

He couldn’t love Gigi. Well, sure, he could. There were a lot of things he could love about her. Her smile, her cooking, her laugh, the way she fit against his body like a perfectly carved sculpture God had designed only for him.

Sure. He could love Gigi. If he let himself. If he wasn’t careful. If... things were different. Right now, he needed to keep her safe and bury her ex-fiancé.

Once he did, she might not want anything to do with him. She might hate him for the animal he was. Might see him for the ruthless killer he could be when necessary.

And if he wasn’t guarded against the crushing blow of her abandonment, he’d fucking drown.

Sad. At some point in the last few days, he’d become a pathetic sap.

With the force of a tornado memories swept in. Memories of the unrelenting, humid jungle. Anxiety clenched the muscles in his neck as his body relived the severe dehydration that’d almost killed him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, but the onslaught of insects buzzed in his ears, nipped at his flesh, waited to eat him alive.

Screams. Violent, terrified screams ripped through his head.

Rough hands dragged him through the thick foliage, taking him to what he’d assumed was his execution but was actually his salvation. A helicopter. The whomp, whomp, whomp of the blades was engraved in his psyche. Still rang through his dreams.

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