Page 195 of The Perfect Wrong

If I come home.

I already made the call while she was sleeping. Sex bawled me out like I knew he would, inventing several new colorful ways to say jackass in the process.

Still, he’s more worried about me missing D-day than any distracting fuckery I’ve gotten myself into.

Delia was waking up as the call ended, that worry I hate brimming in her eyes.

I still want to fuck her. Ialwayswant to fuck this chick, through tragedy and triumph, morning, noon, and night. But I want her heart to stop galloping first, and I want to taste her lips on mine without any salty tears mixed in.

“Dammit,” she moans miserably, shaking her head for the thousandth time. “What if this was all a mistake? Chris, I have a bad feeling. What if Dad flips out over us? What if she talks him into pressing like criminal charges?”

My finger crosses her lips. I push down gently but firmly, right over the seam of her mouth.

“Quiet, babe. You’re working yourself into a frenzy. What-ifs are never worth it. As shitty as this is, I promise you it’ll blow over.”

“But—”

“Delia.”

“But Chris...”

Moving my finger aside, I kiss her deeply, only pulling away when I’m confident she’s done worrying herself sick.

“Fuck crisis mode. We’ll get through this, and I don’t want you telling me anything different unless you want to talk about what we’ll do when I’m home—or why the hell you still love me after I’ve put you through the grinder.”

Her mocha-brown eyes heat, warming the frostiness of her face.

She loosens the death grip on my neck, dragging her nails softly over my skin.

Even when we’re under the proverbial gun, every bit of me bristles.

Delia’s touch makes my blood sing.

And that beautiful, mad music of ours is still there, even with the entire world turning against us.

I can’t help it.

Pushing her face to mine, our lips collide with a hot, desperate hunger.

Every kiss is medicine, and I know she feels it too.

We need the reminder.

There’s nothing—goddamned nothing—that’ll ever come between us.

Not my junkie mother and her poison.

Not her spineless dad.

Not the bullets, the hostages, the fear, the certain hell I’ll be facing the minute Enguard sends us charging up Joaquin’s ass.

When she’s trembling, her whole body begging for breath, I break the kiss and lay my hands on both sides of her head.

I hold her face just like that, steadying, urging her to look at me and justbe.

Be safe because you’re mine.

“You make it sound so easy,” she whispers. “I just need to know you’ll come home safe. I can’t handle this alone.”

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