Page 21 of Freeing Savannah

She turned the clip over again, and without thinking, lifted her hand to fasten it in her hair. “How does it look?” she asked, mostly to break the silence that had wrapped too tightly around her ribs.

He studied her for a long second. “Like moonlight piercing the darkness.”

Her breath caught.

And for the first time in a very long time, she felt the unfamiliar rush of something warm in her chest.

Safe.

A silent exchange passed between them, their gazes meeting and holding. Hers, however, held a fragile sheen of tears, which she valiantly struggled to keep from falling. An undeniable magnetic force passed between them, an invisible current that irresistibly drew them closer. She found herself leaning in towards him, a subtle shift in her posture that she was powerless to stop. She tilted her head back, a lump forming in her throat, her pulse a frantic tattoo against her ribs as she anticipated what came next. Drawn as if by an invisible string to her, his hand rose in a slow, hesitant gesture.

But then he suddenly stopped, retreated a step, and let his hand drop down to his side. The connection didn’t simply fade; it violently fractured, exploding into a million tiny pieces at her feet. A forceful severance that left her reeling from the impact.

He cleared his throat, the sound raspy and low, before saying, “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll make a reservation for dinner downstairs for us.”

A deep breath helped her shake off the feeling of rejection, though the bitter taste of disappointment still lingered. The image of kissing Sawyer, a sweet, forbidden fantasy, had continuously haunted her thoughts since she had reunited with him yesterday. Apparently, it was a daydream she could cherish but never truly experience. Had their reunion just been the day before? Though they’d flown overnight, the lingering effects of their departure made the day feel continuous, a blur from one moment to the next.

Exhaustion hit her like a wall, sapping all her energy. “That sounds good,” she said, her tone more despondent than intended.

He started to speak, but stopped, his eyes fixated on her, the silence heavy with unspoken words. His expression flickered with a fleeting emotion she couldn’t identify. He retreated another step. “I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

“All right.”

When the door clicked shut behind him, a wave of despair washed over her, and she let out a defeated breath. If she couldn’t rein in her turbulent emotions, the next three weeks stretched before her like a bleak, unending desert.

CHAPTER 7

Voodoo wasn’t usedto feeling off-balance.

He’d faced challenges that would break most men. Been shot at. Sliced and stabbed. And nearly died more times than he’d like to think about. But the years of disciplined training, etched into his very being, provided a reliable foundation upon which he could always depend.

But here, across a candlelit table in one of the most opulent restaurants he’d ever seen, with Savannah looking back at him like he was something worth remembering . . . it was a different kind of battlefield. Softer. Quieter. More dangerous in all the ways that mattered.

The black sleeveless dress, so simple yet elegant, highlighted her beauty with its clean lines and soft fabric. Rather than relying on embellishment, the dress, by its very simplicity and the way it clung to her curves, managed to accentuate her beauty to a degree that no amount of elaborate decoration ever could. His reaction to seeing her when she opened the door was completely unexpected, even to himself.

Sunlight-kissed waves of hair framed her shoulders, and the subtle femininity of her makeup complemented her radiant features. But it was her mouth that drew his attention. Theglossy red was so alluring; he’d never wanted to claim a set of lips more.

It had been a struggle to calm his racing heart . . . and his raging dick.

Now, the glow of candlelight danced across Savannah’s face as she laughed softly at something he’d said. It wasn’t a big laugh, more a breathy exhale, but it lit her up in a way the chandelier overhead couldn’t compete with. For a second, Sawyer forgot they were in one of the most expensive hotels in Paris and not sitting cross-legged in a treehouse behind his childhood home.

“Hard to believe we’re here,” she murmured, swirling her wine.

“You always wanted to see the world,” he said, watching the way her fingers brushed the edge of her glass. “Just didn’t think I’d be coming along as backup.”

Her smile was almost shy. “Maybe I wanted backup all along.” She took a sip of her wine, her eyes catching on his tattooed forearm exposed from under his rolled sleeve. “I’ve been meaning to ask . . .”

He raised a brow.

“‘Voodoo.’” Her smile was curious, not mocking. “You don’t seem the bone-rattling doll-stabbing type.”

He smirked. “That depends on the mission.”

She gave him a soft laugh and waited.

Voodoo looked out across the glitzy room, letting the memories creep in before speaking. “My first deployment as a SEAL, my team got stranded in a jungle hellhole halfway across the world. Everything that could go wrong . . . did. Communications, supply drop, even the evac plan. It felt cursed.”

She stilled beside him, sensing the shift in his tone.

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