Page 26 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

His big, capable hands cupped her face, his palms rough against her cheeks, so warm it was a shock against her system that felt as if she’d been cold her whole life.

“He has you, Taylor, and you have what it takes to make the difference, sugar. I believe it down to my bones.” He gently tucked wayward strands behind her ear, his expression full of tenderness and understanding, as if he had a direct link to the lonely, vulnerable little girl inside the woman who, not once in her life, ever asked for help.

Her autonomy was her badge of courage, and it fucking sucked.

Leaning wasn’t something she did. But when his breath escaped on a pained sigh and his deep, aching voice continued, she simply gave herself up to it, to him.

“Take what you need. I have so much to give. I’ve held onto it thinking if I admitted it, if I let it go, there would be nothing left inside me anymore. ”

His truth turned her inside out, and her heart simply slid into those safe, grounded hands.

She collapsed into the aching comfort of his embrace, buried her face against his neck, and broke down crying, deep, convulsing sobs that wracked her entire body.

He wrapped his arms securely around her.

Taylor huddled in his arms, pressing her face against his jaw.

Her breath catching on another soft sob, she wound her arms around his neck, crowding him, leaning into him, grasping a handful of his T-shirt and holding onto him.

Shifting his hold, he slid his arm under her knees and rose, lifting her effortlessly against all that flexing muscle, settling her securely in his arms. “Hang on, darlin’,” he murmured huskily. “I’ve got you.” He tightened his hold around her back as he carried her to her bed.

Taylor hung on and now she was crying, not only for Ansel, for Emil, but for this man.

This devastating bastard who simply held her without consequence, without pushing, without trying to take any of her control, his breaching tools, his body, his warmth, and his honesty that scored her walls so easily, she barely felt the scrape.

They shuddered through her body, one desperate emotion after another ripping through her.

He sat down. Bracing his back against the headboard, he swung his legs up onto the mattress, keeping her secure in a tight embrace.

She lay in his arms, a haven against a world that had taken so much yet had now given her this man against some pretty steep odds.

She purged, long and hard, then taking a deep, cleansing breath, Taylor shifted her hold. He didn’t say anything, just continued to rub her back until she lay emotionally exhausted against him. He inhaled deeply.

Her breath caught and held, much like her stuttering pulse and the squeeze of her heart that yearned for all the things she’d grown up without. All the things she swore she didn’t need in her life, but Boomer made her believe were possible.

He shifted, stretching out beside her, with half his body pressing against hers and a thigh resting heavily between her legs.

He stared deeply into her eyes, so intuitive and determined.

“Seeing into another person’s soul takes courage,” he said and cradled her cheek in his big, warm palm, gently allowing her to confront the emotional connection between them that scared the living daylights out of her.

“I look into your eyes, and I see a little girl who’s carried a wealth of emotional burdens for too many years now and a woman who is afraid that vulnerability makes her weak.

Fuck that shit. You’re allowed to feel the way you do.

We are all allowed that, no matter who or what tries to take it away from us. It’s ours, always.”

When she met that gaze, she saw him . Not just his strength but the fracture lines beneath it. She saw a man who had also lost, who had also grieved in silence, who had also been told he's too much or not enough.

She brushed his jaw. “I see it in you, too. The pain you carry.” He closed those startling green eyes and nodded. Quietly. That unshakable stillness again, solid with handholds that never wavered. Gott , how could she not want this man, want to climb inside him?

“This isn’t about me, sugar. It’s about you and your family. Again, take what you need.”

It was those words that she found the hardest to trust in, even though her heart wanted so badly to believe in Boomer, the honorable man he was, and the promises he made.

Tears gathered in her throat and stung the backs of her eyes.

Not wanting him to witness her weakness, her greatest fears, she slid her palms over his silky, close-cropped hair and brought his mouth down to hers.

She kissed him deeply, hungrily, desperately, striving for mindless pleasure to chase away her doubts and uncertainties.

Sliding her hand down his belly, she cupped his erection in her palm and stroked him through the soft cotton of his sweatpants.

She felt him grow and harden from her touch and started to move over him to straddle his waist, needing him in ways she couldn’t define.

Physical need was a given, but it was all the other emotional chaos swirling within her that made her feel as though her carefully guarded life was spinning out of her control.

He didn’t groan. Didn’t surge toward her. He just held still. Like he was holding the line not just for himself but for her, too.

He caught her around the waist before she could crawl on top of him and eased her back to his side. She made a small sound of frustration, and he deliberately slowed their kiss, soothing rather than arousing her with the slide of his lips against her soft, yielding mouth.

Then he grasped her wrist and rested her palm right over his rapidly beating heart and held it there. He ended the kiss and nuzzled her cheek, her hair. His shaft pressed against her hip, but it was obvious to her that he didn’t intend to do anything about that particular discomfort.

“Just let me hold you, Tay,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’ll give you anything, you know that, but not that, not now.

” He released a ragged breath. “I want you. That’s not in question.

But I want you to want me, plain, simple, decisive.

Not because you’re hurting. Not because you don’t know what else to do with all that pain.

” His words were compressed and fierce. “Anyone can fuck, Taylor. But I’m not interested in anyone .

I want you, and when I fuck you, I’m going to fuck you all the way. ”

She looked at him, stunned. She had never heard that kind of ownership without control. It made her feel powerful, seen, respected. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “We have eight hours before the op, and I need you.”

She’d always believed being seen meant being used. That vulnerability would be exploited or met with silence. But Boomer didn’t take. He didn’t turn away. He just…stayed, and somehow, that terrified her more than anything.

This was what it meant to be loved for all of her. Not just the part she could control. Not just her competence. But the part she fought to hide. If he saw it all…if he held it…maybe she wouldn’t need to hide anymore.

She couldn’t ignore his tender offering.

He wanted to hold her. When had anyone ever just held her, without the pretense of anything more?

How did this incredible man know exactly what she ached for, right when she needed it the most?

Tired of pretending that she could face the world alone, she sank against Boomer’s side, rested her cheek on his chest, and absorbed the comfort and affection he so selflessly offered her.

She closed her eyes, and as he held her in his embrace, she let his strength take over.

Then she lifted her head. “Carter?”

He murmured, his breathing evening out, slipping into slumber, “Darlin?”

“Will you come to lunch with me on Saturday, if that fits into your schedule and you can get away?”

His arms tightened, and he made a soft sound in his throat. “Taylor…I’d be honored.”

She sank into him, gave him her body, her fears, her tears, and let the world float away for a little while. It would soon be time to face it once again. But this time, she would have him, Boomer’s quiet presence, to hold her.

The world above was a cathedral of stars. Silent. Empty. Cold.

Boomer pulled the mask over his face and adjusted the strap with practiced efficiency. Every movement had purpose. Check rebreather. Check gear seal. Check strap tension. No hesitation, but plenty of distractions.

Fuck , his mind wouldn’t play along.

He should’ve been focused, emotionally sterile, hardwired into the op. His headspace before a mission was normally silent. Locked. All systems green.

But this op was a goddamn echo chamber.

Taylor.

Her name pulsed under his skin like a second heartbeat. Not just her body, though he could still feel the shape of her against him, the heat of her pressed to his chest, her breath stuttering in his arms,but her soul . Raw. Open. Wrecked.

She’d given that to him, and he took it, held it close to him. Still not sure he wasn’t going to fuck this up, but unable to retreat now.

She hadn’t run her mouth or begged or tried to control the narrative like some people did when they were scared. No. She folded into him. Gave him her grief, her guilt, her fear, and it had leveled him.

He’d slept beside her, and yet it felt more intimate than anything he’d ever done naked.

When she’d touched him, cupped him like a woman starved for solace, his whole body had gone tight and hard.

He’d wanted to flip her, slide deep, make her feel good in every place that had been carved hollow by other people’s failures.

But she hadn’t needed that. Not then. Not from him. Not like that.

He wanted real with her. Not just contact.

Connection.

Last night had been the closest he’d ever come to it.