For long moments, the room was nothing but the sound of their mingled breathing and the pounding of two hearts beating in sync.
Finally, he shifted just enough to look at her. His face was damp with sweat, his hair sticking to his temples, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were open and unguarded in a way she’d never seen before.
Izzy cupped his cheek, her thumb scraping over the stubble there. “That was…” She trailed off, searching for words that didn’t exist.
“Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking in a rare smile. “It was.”
She laughed softly, pressing her forehead to his. But even as her body basked in the afterglow, her mind twisted with questions. What did this mean? What were they now?
As if he could read the jumble in her head, he kissed her softly, tenderly. “Izzy, I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. Hell, I can’t promise I’ll even have a tomorrow. But right now?” His voice roughened, his gaze locking with hers. “Right now, I want you to know you’re important. You’re…you’re something I didn’t know I needed.”
Her chest tightened painfully, hope surging in her throat. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe this wasn’t just sex, wasn’t just adrenaline after danger.
That it could be more.
Her hand slid over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath her palm. “Then maybe we figure it out. One day at a time.”
His lips curved, soft and sure. He pulled her close again, wrapping her in his arms. “One day at a time.”
Wrapped in his embrace, Izzy let her eyes drift shut. For the first time in years, she felt something she’d nearly forgotten how to feel—hope.
And maybe, just maybe, love.
TWELVE
Steele pulled out his usual chair at the table and sank to it, never shifting his gaze from the big monitor on the war room wall.
“What are we looking at?” He aimed his question at Mason, who just studied the monitor for a moment, then shrugged.
Con stood at the head of the room with the same commanding presence he always carried himself with. But nothing on that screen made sense.
They weren’t looking at weapons schematics or satellite imagery. The screen displayed a chart with names.
Not their next targets—theirwomen.
“Are we looking at…” Steele shook his head to clear it, but the chart was still the same, “relationship intelligence?”
Con picked up the laser pointer and indicated to the top line of the graph. “Gentlemen, tonight we’ll be doing things a little different here.”
Sinner grunted as he entered the room last and ended up in the chair with his back to the door. “What is that?” he asked Steele.
He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Izzy’s name was fifth on the list.
Chase sat back with a groan. “Let me guess—this was Alyssa’s idea. She’s complained a few times about being stuck on base and now that it’s cold outside, we should be doing some ‘cozy’ things.” He made air quotes around the word.
Con eyed the group. “We have five women under our protection for an indefinite period. They’re away from theirnormal lives, out of their normal routines. It falls on the team to ensure they feel supported, not imprisoned.”
The top of the chart had words like snack, drink and color. Beside Izzy’s name he read the answers with extreme interest. He knew a lot about her, but he didn’t knowthesethings about her. He didn’t even know he was curious about them.
Dante leaned forward, his fingers resting on the table rather than the keys of his laptop, a sure sign he was intrigued by whatever Con was about to propose.
“What you’re all looking at is a chart containing the name of each woman in residence. And a list of their favorite things.”
Sinner sat back with so much force that his chair creaked. “What’s this have to do with the bachelors?”
“Nothing. But you’re going to sit here and learn a few things.” Con turned to the screen.
“How did you gather this intel?” Steele asked what they were probably all thinking.
