Page 70 of Beyond Protection
"We should—" I started.
"Yeah," Eamon said. "We should."
Marcus called from downstairs about dinner, and the moment broke.
But I'd felt his thumb move against my skin. Felt him choose not to pull away.
That was enough.
For now.
***
I gave up on sleep an hour after I retreated to the guest room. Lay in bed staring at the ceiling while the new security system beeped softly every time the furnace kicked on or a branch moved past a window sensor.
My phone was on the nightstand. I picked it up. Opened the security app. Cycled through the feeds.
Back porch: Eamon's silhouette, standing at the railing, breath visible in the cold.
He couldn't sleep either.
I was down the stairs and out the door before I could talk myself into staying put. The cold hit immediately—December sharp, wet with fog, the kind that seeped into your bones. I'd pulled on jeans and sneakers, hadn't grabbed a jacket, and was already shivering by the time the door closed behind me.
Eamon turned. "Couldn't sleep?"
"No better than you."
"Not really my strong suit these days."
I crossed to stand beside him. Close enough to feel his warmth. Far enough that I wasn't crowding. The new camera was mounted above us, red light blinking. Watching.
"I can't do my job if I'm this compromised." His voice was rough. "Every time you walk into a room, I lose focus. Every time you smile at me, I forget to check exits. Every time you look at me like—" He stopped. Jaw tight. "Like you're looking at me right now."
I moved closer. Just one step. Just enough that our arms brushed. "Then maybe stop trying to do your job for a minute."
"Mac."
"I've been performing my whole life," I said quietly. "Every smile, every interview, every public appearance. Playing straightwhen I was dying inside. Playing fine when I was falling apart. Playing whatever version people needed so they'd keep loving me." I turned to face him fully. "I don't want to perform with you. I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want you to either."
"I don't know how to keep you safe while wanting you this much," he said.
"Don't stop wanting me." I closed the distance between us. Inches now. Close enough to feel his breath. "And don't stop keeping me safe. Do both."
For a heartbeat, he didn't move.
"Mac," he said again. This time it didn't sound like a warning.
It sounded like surrender.
I kissed him.
Closed the last few inches and pressed my mouth to his, tentative and terrified and done waiting. His lips were cold from the night air, slightly chapped.
For three seconds, he was still. Careful. Letting me lead.
Then his hand came up to cup the back of my head, fingers sliding into my hair, and he kissed me back.
God. Yes.
