Page 32 of Holding the Line

Marsh’s grin was crooked, a little shy but proud.“Looks good, right?”

“You’re standing.”

“I am.”

Eli scrambled off the bed, but didn’t move toward him, he stopped and looked his fill.“And it looks better than good.It looks fucking fantastic.”

They met in the middle of the room, Marsh’s arms closing around Eli’s waist as Eli pressed into his chest.Eli couldn’t help but rub his face back and forth against Marsh’s strength, loving the growl of appreciation that rose in his man’s throat.

“This is so much nicer standing up,” Eli murmured, his hands sliding around Marsh’s back.“You’re ridiculously tall, by the way.”

“Six-three, baby,” Marsh said against Eli’s hair.“And you fit me just right.”

They lingered in the embrace until Eli pulled back slightly.“So, what’s the verdict?Any pain?”

Marsh shook his head.“Discomfort sometimes.But the fit’s good now.You were right.Again.”

Eli beamed, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously.“You’re buttering me up.”

Marsh chuckled.“Maybe.”

They moved to sit on the bed, shoulders brushing, and Marsh reached to take his hand.

“I ran a search,” Marsh said, his voice dipping serious.“White.Colonel Adrian White.”

Eli flinched slightly.“You ran a background check?”

“Yeah.I needed to know who we were dealing with.Who you were dealing with alone up til now.”Marsh rubbed his jaw.“The guy’s record is clean—too clean.Commendations, spotless service reviews, fast-tracked promotions.But there were gaps.Places where files should have been but weren’t.Mentions of misconduct investigations that suddenly stopped.And a few sealed entries marked ‘CLASSIFIED—REDACTED.’Someone’s been cleaning up after him.”

Eli nodded slowly, hands twisting together.“They always did.No one ever believed me.”

“Well, I do,” Marsh said flatly.“And Bateman has the full SITREP.The whole team knows now.If White so much as sneezes in our direction, we’ll know it.”

Eli looked away for a moment, swallowing.“What will Bateman do with the info?”

“Monitor him.Spread word through our networks.Make sure no one gives White an inch.And if he comes close to the Ridge again—he won’t leave the same way he came.”

Eli looked down at his hands, then back at Marsh.“Thank you.I mean it.That ...that means more than I can say.”

Marsh gave him a long, steady look.“Duh.”

Eli snorted.

Marsh gently gripped his chin, making it impossible for him to look away.“You don’t protect something unless it matters.And you matter.”

Eli’s breath caught.“So, what now?”he asked quietly.

Marsh caressed his face, then dropped his hand.“There’s a phrase in the military—’holding the line.’It means standing your ground no matter what’s coming.You brace for the storm, prepare your defenses, and wait.Not because you’re afraid, but because you refuse to fall.That’s what we’re doing, Eli.We’re holding the line.

Eli leaned in then, brushing their noses together.“I’m glad I found you, Marsh Clarkson.”

Marsh kissed him—slow, reverent, yet hungry.Eli melted into it, hands threading through Marsh’s hair as if anchoring himself there.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling in the quiet, Marsh gave him a teasing look.“How glad?”

Eli laughed softly.“Depends.Are you going to kiss me like that every day?”

Marsh arched a brow.“Only if you keep looking at me like I invented gravity.”