Page 116 of Mercenary
“Yet.” She squeezes my hand, and I feel it in my heart. “I’m going to teach you how.”
“Madelyn . . .”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Jesus Christ. Afraid of you?”
She grins at me and I’m at a complete loss of words. And the truth is, I’m not afraid. I’m petrified. I parked on the beach with the intent of fucking her. I waited eighteen hours to get up inside her. My panic growing instead of fading now that the danger is over.
Only to discover I’m facing a new threat. A beautiful, kind, loving woman I have no business being involved with.
She squeezes my hand once more. “No one is here. We’ve the beach to ourselves.”
“You’re safe,” I gruffly reassure her.
“So are you . . .” she answers with another reassuring squeeze of my hand. “With me.”
Goddamn it, I think but even my silent curses have softened.
I let her take charge, leading me down to the water and encouraging me to kick my shoes and socks off so I can get my feet wet. I let her wrap her arms around my shoulders and pull me in for a kiss. I let her go where no woman has been before. No one except her. I let her . . . in.
Our tongues collide and dance. Warm and so damn sweet. I never want our kiss to end.
The tide rolls in, knocking her off her feet and abruptly interrupting us. But I hold her steady.
“Why don’t we lie on the beach, just out of reach of the tide?”
I nod and allow her to tug me along to the spot she has in mind. “I think I’m going to love Florida,” she murmurs, settling herself onto the ground and patting the semidamp sand beside her.
Love. There’s that word again. I never understood what it meant until her. And worse than that is love at first sight. Because fuck me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I loved her from the moment I saw her carrying grocery bags into her trailer. And truth is, the next day when she shared with me that it was her birthday, after I kissed her—I’m a guy who doesn’t do kisses—I should have realized it then.
And it’s because I love her, I can’t let this go any farther. I’ve got to let her go.
I sit down beside her and study the horizon. How the sun now seems to be at a standstill, struggling to rise up beyond the gulf waters.
“We need to talk,” I begin.
“Talk?”
“Yes,” I gruffly reply.
“About . . . us.”
“Yes.”
She sighs. “I’m listening.”
I scowl.
“But before you try and crush my heart, you should know that I love you. It’s always been you, Declan. Ever since our first kiss—”
“You’re not thinking about the future. You deserve happiness, baby. You have ambitions like school.”
“I am considering my future.”
“You’re the opposite of what I am. Kind. Gentle. Forgiving to a fault. Far too trusting.”
“You promised.”
