Page 65 of Dagger

“The woman in the bar,” she said, slower now. “The redhead?” The confusion continued. “Oh, for God’s sakes, Dagger…Piper McDonald. She’s with the State Department. She negotiated my contract. I was with her when you walked in.”

Nothing. Just a shrug, easy and unconcerned. “All I saw was you, babe.” He paused, gaze steady. “Everything else faded.”

Her breath caught.

She hadn’t expected that. Not after everything. Not after the brutal things she’d said, the doors she’d slammed shut, the way she’d cut him off like a blade to the bone. Still… this man, thisfucking man,had only seenher.

She had to look away, even if just for a second.God, she could barely breathe at the depth of his support.

Even in the face of her venom, her grief, her fire, he’d never flinched. Never faltered. He just kept showing up, quiet, constant, unwavering.

What kind of man does that?

Dagger. That’s who.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about women across America or the world,” he added, voice rough with heat. “You won’t be waking up anytime soon with my whole fucking team.” He shifted checking his dive watch. “Babe, we have to go. Shower time.”

“If we do it together, it’ll save time.”

He grinned against her skin. “Are you turning into a SEAL babe? Evasive maneuvers, always locked and loaded.”

She laughed, a sound that came freer than she expected. “You saying I’m a threat?”

“Deadliest one I’ve ever faced.”

She smiled, but her heart tugged. He meant it as a tease, but there was something in the way he said it, like he saw all of her. The sharp edges. The fire. He didn’t flinch. He called her dangerous, but not like a warning. Like a vow.

“I know for a fact Navy SEALs aren’t crybabies,” she said, grinning. “So, pull up your big boy tactical pants. The only easy day was yesterday.”

His grin curved slow and dangerous. “You’re rapidly becoming my high-value target.” His voice dropped, teasing but edged with heat. “Someone else better pull up her sassy pants, there’s a bullseye forming.”

Something warm fluttered low in her belly.God help her.

She reached up, cupping his jaw, her fingers gentle against the stubble-rough line of his cheek. Her voice softened, barely a whisper.

“I know from experience… your aim is always true.” She paused, her thumb brushing across his skin. “That bullseye?” Her eyes met his. “It’s over my heart.”

He didn’t speak, not with words. Instead, he kissed her. Deeply. Intimately. With a tenderness that undid her. There was no hunger in it, no urgency, only forgiveness in every press of his mouth, in the quiet weight of his body against hers, in the slow, reverent sweep of his tongue.

Just like that, her walls cracked again.

Tears stung her eyes, soft, silent things she didn’t try to hide this time. She curled her fingers around the chain of his tags and held onto him. Because somehow, in that kiss, he told her everything she hadn’t known she needed to hear. The musical clink of his tags made her breath catch. When he pulled away, her fingers didn’t stop playing with the tags, light, rhythmicmovements over his chest, like she needed the feel of him to ground her.

The cold press of steel against warm skin sent a shiver through her fingertips, that sharp clink echoing in her bones like memory. Steel on steel, metal and man. The simplicity of his identity, the complexity of who he was. Strength on strength. God, it did something to her.

She bit her lip, letting the tags slip between her fingers again, the chain rasping softly against his chest.

“These are supposed to be about service, duty, honor,” she murmured, voice low and rough with heat. “But fuck me, they’re just plain sexy on you.”

His body tensed slightly beneath her touch, and the tags shifted, cool metal catching the rise of his chest with every breath.

Her nipples peaked against his hot skin, awareness flickering through her like a live wire. Her clit throbbed, a low pulse that made her fingers tighten around the tags.

She traced one, thumb brushing over the embossed lettering, the worn edges, the way they rested right over his heart. “They sound like weight. Like presence. Like you.”

He still didn’t speak, not with words. He just leaned in, mouth finding her neck in a kiss that was slow, deep, and reverent. Forgiveness. Desire. Everything.

Her chest tightened again, not from sorrow, but from heat, from want, from something that felt far too close to need.

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