Page 55 of Eternal

She laughs softly, rolling her eyes, “Really? You can’t have it? Those blue eyes can get you everything.”

I drop my voice low, barely enough for her to feel the heat. “Not everything, unfortunately.”

She leans in a little, as if she wants to mess with me, and I can’t ignore the way my pulse picks up. “Oh, so someone’s smart enough not to fall for them?”

I can’t hold back my grin now. “Not smart. Selective .”

“You’re impossible,” she replies, laughing softly.

“You’re flirting back, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she picks up her spoon, but her fingers linger on it for a second too long. “I might let you eat here again.”

She is flirting back…

I lean back again, letting the warmth of her words settle in my chest. “Finally you asked. Yes, I'd love to be your husband.”

She chuckles softly, and that sound feels heavy in my chest. “ Stupid .”

Stupid.

Stupid.

Exactly what I fucking am at this moment. And the reason is standing right in front of me with soft and beautiful eyes and a smile that makes every cell in my body lean toward her warmth.

So yeah. I’m stupidly obsessed .

I watch her as she moves around the kitchen, clearing the table and wiping down the counters. I’m not sure why, but I’m restless. Something about tonight, about the way she’s letting me in, feels weird in my body.

I get up from my chair, stretching my arms above my head. She doesn’t notice right away. Instead, she hums to herself a song, lost in some tasks.

“ And she will be loved… ” It's so soft. Almost inaudible. Like she is in her own little bubble.

I don't even know the title of the song, I've never been into music. But it sounds good. It feels comfortable, like we’re normal people at this moment.

I move toward the sink, rinsing the dishes.

It’s not something I usually do, but something about it feels right, helping her, in whatever way I can.

I don’t need to make her feel like she’s doing everything.

I’ve watched her do it, been on the receiving end of her care, but tonight, it feels like I should be the one doing the work.

She turns to find me elbow-deep in suds, scrubbing at a plate. Her eyes widen, her lips curling into a small, amused smile.

And fuck , I want to kiss it.

“Look at you,” she teases, crossing her arms. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

I chuckle, keeping my focus on the plate, but there’s a warmth in my chest that I can’t understand.

What the fuck am I doing here? This is not a part of the plan.

“Husband and wife, remember? I'll always do the cleaning for my special partner.” The words slip out too easily. I don’t even know why I say them, only that something about tonight makes the idea feel less like a joke.

She rolls her eyes, but there’s affection behind it. “ Delusional .”

I finish the last plate and dry my hands, turning to face her.

I grab her by the waist and take her back to the sofa. I miss being able to look at her and talk to her closer.

She’s not like that when we’re outside. Not during missions, not during meetings with Vik and Kat.

Maybe it's because she's still thinking about Donovan? I don't know. But when she sits and covers her legs up with that same old cover of her brother, I can't look away and I forget everything about what led me to her.

Her braid looks so soft.

I shift a little, turning toward her. “You know,” I say, “last time, you were really patient with me... with the whole braid thing.”

She raises an eyebrow, glancing at me with a slight smile. “ Mmh , I couldn't say no. You came here with ice cream.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I'll bring more next time, I promise.”

But she’s already turning her head slightly, showing me the soft curve of her neck, the scar, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. There’s a silent invitation in the way she moves, and my fingers itch to touch it again.

I don’t say anything for a moment, instead, I simply move closer, settling behind her, my fingers brushing her hair slowly, feeling the softness beneath my touch. My breath catches a little as I start to gather the strands that fell when she started cooking.

“ I could ... try again, if you want,” I murmur, my hands hesitating as I begin to separate her hair, unsure if I’m pushing my luck.

She doesn’t answer at first, but I catch the slightest curve of her lips, that soft and small smile she’s trying to suppress. “Well, if you want to learn better…”

I take a slow breath, fingers slipping through her hair again, but this time it feels heavier, like I'm holding onto something I shouldn't even think about. “I always want to learn with you.”

The words catch me off guard as they leave my mouth, and when I hear them, I can’t stop the thoughts. There’s a part of me that wants to take them back, shove them down before they get any more real, but the truth is already there.

It's raw, and it scares the hell out of me.

It's like... I'm learning things I shouldn't be. Like, how it feels to have someone near me that cares. To feel safe when I shouldn’t. To want things I shouldn’t want. To feel her warmth, her softness, like she’s a part of me, a part of something good and I'm so fucking lost in it, I can't breathe.

I don’t do things like this. I don’t sit in dim rooms, braid a woman’s hair, and whisper things I don’t even know I mean. But with her, I do.

She’s doing things to me; small things, innocent things that feel like fire and ice. The way she smiles, the way she breathes, like she’s a person... a home, a warmth I never had. Something I never learned to want.

I can’t have this. I know that.

But when I’m with her, I want to pretend I’m someone else, someone who doesn’t have blood on his hands, someone who can be... Damir . Her partner. I want to pretend I can stay here, in this moment, for a little longer, before reality rips it all away.

My hands keep moving, mechanically, pulling her hair into a braid, but it’s not the task I’m focused on. It’s the feel of her, the way her skin feels under my fingers when I move them down, the way she breathes.

She stiffens briefly, a habit, a reflex maybe, but then, slowly, she melts into it, as if some part of her is too tired to fight it anymore.

And then she exhales softly.

Her shoulders relax under my touch, and I find myself lingering, my fingers brushing her neck, traveling down her back, not wanting to let go, not wanting to stop.

Soft . So soft. So real.

And then, the thought crashes over me like a wave, threatening to drown me: What if she’s not here tomorrow? What if I have to let her go?

The simple thought of it makes my stomach churn. I don't know what the hell it is about her, but it's too much and the idea of losing her makes me want to throw up. The craving to keep pretending, to keep feeling like this, makes me sick because I know it won’t last.

But for now, I can't let go. For now, I want her to stay. To let me pretend I’m not the monster I know I am. I want to be Damir with her . And that, that feeling... is more dangerous than anything I’ve ever faced.

“Your skin is so... delicate ,” I whisper. I don't even know why I'm saying this.

Her breath catches, and I can’t help but smile at the way she responds to my presence so subtly, but it’s there. She shivers slightly under my touch, her body reacting without her even meaning to.

“Do you always get this... relaxed when someone touches you, partner?” I tease, my fingers moving lower along her spine.

She lets out a soft gasp, her body stiffening for a moment before melting under my hands again. “No one touches me,” she says, her voice a little breathless,

I laugh low, pressing my lips to the side of her neck in a soft breath, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my mouth. “Perfect,” I murmured against her skin.

When I pull away, I catch her eyes in the reflection of the glass in front of us, a blue one in the hallway. There’s something there, softness , a vulnerability she’s trying to hide, but it’s all there, in the way she looks at me, in the way her breath quickens as my hands work.

My fingers find the knot in her shoulders, and I press into it with a gentle but firm pressure. “You don’t know how bad I’ve wanted to do this again, spending some time with you here,” I admit, my voice low, my fingers gliding over her skin like they belong there.

She makes a sound, half a sigh, half a moan, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “What was that? You like this?” and she nods right away.

“ Partner ,” I murmur, my voice soft as my fingers move lower, gently caressing her back. “You really don’t make it easy to keep my hands to myself.”

She sucks in a breath, her body tightening slightly when I leave her shoulders to finish the braid.

“You’re not making it easy on me either,” she says softly, a breathless hint of a laugh in her voice. I feel her shoulders relax when I put the braid aside and continue to move my hands over her.

When my fingers slide a little farther down, she shudders, her back arching slightly.

Her lips part a bit, and for a moment, she doesn’t say anything, she lets me work, her body relaxing under my hands, her head tipping slightly back as I continue, fingers gliding down her spine with slow strokes. Soft caresses.

“My back’s been killing me lately,” she admits, her voice quieter now. “You’re... really good at this.”

She’s killing me.

“I’m glad to be of service,” I reply, proud that I’m useful here. “But just so you know, I might keep doing this until you can’t move.”

She laughs softly, and I want to fight it, push her away before I get too deep, but I can’t, my gaze locks on her, the way she turns her head for me to see that vulnerable softness in her eyes.

And God, it's dangerous, so damn dangerous.

“I’ll add it to the kink list,” she says. “Massages until I turn to mush.”