Page 81 of Zorro

She was choosing him. Wanted him for something more than a brief few nights in Rio.

He closed his eyes, and the prickling behind them caught him off guard.

It hit all at once. Like a detonation under his ribs.

She was choosing him, and he hadn’t fixed a goddamn thing. He hadn’t bled for her. He hadn’t carried her through fire.

She just…took him, asked him for more.

That tore him open.

Flipped him on his ass. Twisted him into a pretzel. Sent joy screaming through him like lightning shot straight into his chest.

Fuck.

His lungs stuttered. His throat closed. His heart was a goddamn fist in his chest.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to fuck her. At the same time.

He didn’t know what she’d think of that, this big, mouthy Navy SEAL losing it all over her skin while he sank so deep into her body he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

But God, he wanted it. Wanted her. She saw him. She said yes.

That was all he’d ever really wanted.

God, she was beautiful. Soft eyes and a guarded heart and a body that moved like wildfire and medicine at once.

She had just given him everything.

She was asking him if he could give her something real in return.

He swallowed.

“Mateo?” she asked, her voice hushed, aching with her feelings for him, more proof of how serious she was.

“I…need a…moment. Please, don’t talk…don’t move.” His voice broke on the last word. His heart was in a goddamned vice. He didn’t dare look at her face, not sure how much longer he could hang on to the rising pressure in his chest.

“Mateo,” she whispered.

“Don’t say my name…like that…goddammit…woman. Call me fuckhead, asshole, hey you, anything but my first name.”

“What the—” she whispered, tender laughter slipping out, then her body softened, and she moved when he’d told her not to. She swarmed over him, right onto him, full length, grunting as she settled on his aching junk.

There were those eyes again…warm, sparkling, devastating him even more. “Don’t fucking look at me,” he growled, turning his head, struggling with the tightness in his throat at her dawning realization and the full emotions there.

Her fingers slipped between the mattress and his face. He couldn’t stop them. Moisture had built up behind his lids.

“Fuckhead,” she said softly, and laughter burst out of him as she forced his face toward hers. She kissed his closed lids. Her tongue tasted his tears as they slid down his face. “Listen to me, asshole, I haven’t been able to see straight since you exploded into my life…the eight of you filling up my hallway with your wounds and your laughter, and your shoulders still heavy from the heroic shit you’d just done. But for you all it was just another damn day.” Her breath hitched, and he gasped with gratitude. “Look at me.”

He opened his eyes, the flood of his salty tears a cascade. She let them fall like they were a benediction to her. Her eyes glowed, glassy with her own reaction to him losing it. He reached up and captured the back of her head, brought her mouth down on his with a soft sniffle. “Your bedside manner has improved considerably, Doc Sunshine,” he rasped, breaking the kiss, her breath puffing over him in a soft laugh, but her smile disappearing when he went back for more. She melted into him, and her own sniffle made his heart contract hard.

She lifted her head. “I’ll have to mark this day on my calendar. I made the amazing Martinez…speechless.” She pushed up on his chest, her eyes now filled with a warmth that melted him. “So, do you have any ideas?”

He cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb along her cheek.

“You tell me everything. I’m fucking nosy. I have to know what you think, how you breathe, how your heart works. I need to know who you were, and who you’re becoming in my arms, because I feel that, Everly. You’re changing. I want to catch up.”

His voice dropped further, quieter now.