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“Sure is.”
I turned to Cope, who was looking at me rather than out the window.
“I’m proud of you, Ali.”
“I’m proud of me too.” I turned back to the screen when I felt the tension in the pedals tighten.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Bring it.”
He won the virtual race, of course, but I didn’t mind, because I’d won something too. I couldn’t say that every time I got near the windows, or in the elevator, or any other place where my fear of heights once crippled me, that it wouldn’t be a struggle. But today, I’d conquered those fears enough to something that I sometimes felt was more important to Cope than it was to me.
Later this evening, we were having dinner at his parents’ house, like we did every Sunday. Since we were celebrating Fisk receiving three life sentences after his conviction earlier this week, Cope had invited several of the men who had protected both of us through the final days of the mission that had begun so many years before. I couldn’t wait to see Buck, who had become like a brother to me. I’m sure Cope felt the same about seeing Irish.
“Hey,” said Cope, looking at his phone while I made us both coffee. “Stella said she’s going to be able to make it after all.”
I was anxious to talk to her about the book we’d been working on together—working title, Two Spies Who Took Down the Mole. Cope balked at the name, but I loved it. Ultimately, it would be up to the publisher to decide, if the book even got picked up. Something told me it would, though.
“We have some celebrating to do tonight,” Cope said when he climbed behind me in the tub that was almost identical to the one in the apartment I’d been staying in when we met. “I think we should start now, though.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.” I took his right hand and put it on my breast. When I reached for his left hand, he had it above his head.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered into my ear before nipping its lobe. “Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
26
COPE
I’d had it since the week after Fisk was arrested and I knew Ali and I would be free to live our lives without fear. I also knew by then that she loved me as much as I loved her.
“Open,” I said, holding the open box in front of her. When she gasped, I bent my neck and kissed the side of her face. “Will you marry me, Ali?”
“Yes,” she whispered, making me regret I hadn’t done this in a way that I could see her face.
I slid the ring on the third finger of her left hand. It was a perfect fit.
I set the box on the floor when she scooted away from me, got on her knees, and turned around. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. I pulled her toward me and kissed her hard. “I love you so fucking much.”
She stood and pulled me up with her. Dripping from the bath, we padded our way into the bedroom. When she rested against the pillows, I kissed my way from her lips down her body, stopping first at her breasts and then again when I reached the apex between her legs.
“Cope?”
I raised my head and looked into her eyes.
“Make love to me.”
I kissed my way back up her body and kissed her. I understood what she wanted. I wanted it too. I rested my elbows on either side of her neck and entered her slowly. My eyes met hers; I didn’t want to do as much as blink.
“I love you,” she said, as I began to move.
I rotated my hips, my cock filling her warmth, exploring, like I did with my tongue.
“Ali.” It was too much for me to hold back.
Her neck arched, and she met my thrusts.