Page 77 of Zorro

“You shouldn’t exist,” she whispered, the words spilling raw. Her fingers traced the hard, beautiful line of his jaw. “Not in this world. Not in mine.”

His eyes stayed on hers, fierce and steady. “Then maybe it’s time we built a new one.” He drew her against him like he couldn’t stand the distance anymore and buried his face in her hair. “Lay with me, cariño,” he murmured. “Rest now. Let me hold you. I need to hold you.”

She didn’t hesitate.

She curled into him, tucking herself against the solid wall of his body, her hand over his heart. His warmth soaked into her skin like sun through glass, and for a moment, just a moment, she let herself believe in this quiet. In this man. This amazing man she wasn’t quite sure she deserved.

That thought caught her off guard. It flickered, quick and instinctive. Her old wound surfaced beneath the softness. She pushed it down. Not now. Not here. But it didn’t vanish. Would it ever?

Building a new world? God. What would that take? What would that cost?

Did she have that kind of courage?

Not the kind that made her run into fire. Not the kind she summoned when her hands were slick with blood and someone’s life was slipping through her fingers.

No. This was different.

This was asking whether she could be the kind of woman this man needed. The kind he had every right to expect.

Could she rise to meet him on even ground?

Could she be like Pippa, Izzy and Helen? Could she be his partner, like those women who had fiercely chosen their men?

Her breath caught. He pulled her closer, chin brushing her hair, his arms tightening just enough to remind her that he was still here.

Her thoughts spun briefly, too big, too fast, too hopeful, before they dissolved into the steady rhythm of his breath against her skin. Her own breath followed, syncing to his, instinctive and slow.

For the first time in her life, she slept beside someone not because she was numb or exhausted, but because she was held.

Not certain. Not whole. But willing.

She absorbed the solid, aching feel of his powerful body, still humming with the energy that thrummed through his veins, and felt the shiver of it slip into her like current, curling low in her belly, and it made her want him all over again.

Not physically, although God, just the scent of him made her mouth dry and her core ache.

No. Mateo.

Zorro.

Could he possibly…oh God.

Her breath caught, a sharp hitch in her chest.

Could he have fallen in love with her back in Niamey? When she’d been fractured.

Scared. Bitter. Blaming. Needy in a way she still hated to admit. At her worst.

How could that have happened?

She closed her eyes, but it was already too late. The thought had taken root, and with it came the truth she’d been outrunning since she met him.

She didn’t just give in, she unraveled. Quietly. Entirely. Like surrender was a truth her body had been holding longer than her mind could bear.

She loved him.

She was deeply, utterly in love with him, and she couldn’t pretend otherwise. Not after this. Not after everything.

In this brave, uncertain world he’d offered her, this world of risk and joy and terrifying openness, she had no idea how to carry that truth. No idea what it meant to live with it.

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