Page 10 of My Special Ops Neighbor (Neighborhood Hotties #4)

T he house felt impossibly quiet after the federal agents left.

Yvette stood in the basement command center, staring at the dark monitors that had been her window into Curtis's downfall just hours before.

The equipment hummed softly in standby mode, no longer tracking enemy movements or intercepting criminal communications.

The silence was profound after days of constant tension.

"They're really gone," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

Vincent appeared behind her, close enough that she resisted the urge to lean back against him.. "Curtis is in federal custody. His entire network is arrested. RareCore's assets are frozen, and the congressional investigation is already underway."

"I keep expecting another alert, another attack." She turned to face him, noting the exhaustion in his features that matched her own. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"There is no other shoe." His hands settled on her shoulders, steady and reassuring. "We won, Yvette. Completely and decisively."

The reality of it hit her all at once. For the first time in days, no one was trying to kill her.

No corporate assassins were planning their next move.

No federal bureaucrats were demanding impossible choices.

They were alone, safe, and free to be just Vincent and Yvette instead of tactical partners fighting for their lives.

"I can't quite believe it's over," she admitted.

"Believe it." Vincent's hands moved to frame her face, his thumbs tracing along her cheekbones. "You dismantled a billion-dollar criminal conspiracy using nothing but your brilliant mind and a laptop. You turned their own weapons against them and ensured that justice would be served."

"We did it," she corrected. "Your tactical expertise, your protection—I couldn't have done any of this without you."

"And I couldn't have done it without someone worth protecting." His voice grew rough with emotion. "Someone who reminded me what it means to fight for justice instead of just following orders."

The weight of everything they'd been through together settled between them—the fear, the danger, the absolute trust they'd built in each other. Yvette realized that somewhere in the chaos of the past few days, she'd fallen completely and irrevocably in love with this man.

"Vincent," she said softly, touching him. "Earlier, when we thought we might not survive the night, you said something about wanting to be partners in everything."

"I meant it." His eyes held hers with unwavering intensity. "Not just professionally, but in every way that matters. I want to build a life with you, Yvette. A real partnership."

"Even knowing that I come with enemies? That people like Curtis will always see financial investigators as threats?"

"Especially knowing that." His smile was fierce with certainty. "You've shown me what real strength looks like. What it means to have someone who makes you better instead of holding you back."

She loved that he said that. "I've spent my entire career trusting data over people because numbers don't lie or abandon you. But you've never once made me doubt that you'll be exactly where you say you'll be."

"Never," he promised.

"Then yes." The word came out strong and certain. "I want to be your partner in everything. Tonight, tomorrow, for however long we have."

When he kissed her, it was with the brutal intensity of a man who'd nearly lost everything that mattered. She responded with equal hunger, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed closer.

This kiss was different from their earlier encounters. There was no urgency born of impending danger, no stolen moments between crises. This was the kiss of two people who'd chosen each other completely, who'd fought for the right to have a future together.

"I love you," Vincent said against her lips, the words carrying the weight of absolute truth. "I love your courage, your brilliant mind, the way you refuse to back down when justice is on the line."

"I love you too," she breathed, feeling the rightness of it settle into her bones. "I love the way you see my strength instead of trying to diminish it. The way you trust me to be your equal instead of something fragile to protect."

He deepened the kiss, pouring three years of isolation and guilt into claiming the woman who'd given him back his purpose. When they finally broke apart, she felt light headed.

"I need you," she said, her hands working at the buttons of his tactical shirt. "Not because of adrenaline or fear or stolen moments, but because I choose you. Because you're mine."

"Yes," he said, his hands moving to her clothes with reverent urgency. "God, yes."

But instead of the violent coupling they'd shared before, Vincent took his time. He undressed her slowly, his mouth following the path of his hands as he revealed each inch of skin. When she stood naked before him in the soft glow of the emergency lighting, he paused to drink in the sight.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his fingertips tracing patterns of fire across her skin. "So beautiful, and so strong."

"Show me," she commanded, pulling him closer. "Show me what it means to be loved by you."

He lifted her easily, carrying her to the exercise mats where he'd first taught her to defend herself. The symbolism wasn't lost on either of them—this was where she'd learned to fight, where they'd first touched, where their partnership had begun to transform into something deeper.

"I want to make love to you in the place where I first realized how extraordinary you are," he said, laying her down with careful reverence. "Where I first understood that you didn't need my protection—you deserved my partnership."

His words sent desire flooding through her, hot and urgent and absolutely necessary. When his hands spanned her ribcage, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, she arched into his touch with a soft cry.

"I love the sounds you make," he murmured against her throat. "The way you respond to me, the way you trust me with your pleasure."

Vincent kissed his way down her body with patient thoroughness, worshipping every curve and hollow with his mouth and hands. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he settled between them with predatory intent.

The first touch of his mouth against her center made her cry out, her hips lifting as sensation crashed over her. He used lips and tongue to pleasure her with patient intensity until she was trembling on the edge of climax.

"Please," she gasped, her hands clutching his hair. "Vincent, I need—"

"I know what you need," he said against her slick flesh. "Let me give it to you."

He slipped two fingers inside her while his mouth focused on the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her see stars. The dual stimulation was perfect, building the tension inside her like a coiled spring until she thought she might shatter from the intensity.

"Come for me," he commanded. "I want to feel you fall apart before I make you mine."

The combination of his words and the perfect pressure of his fingers sent her over the edge with shattering force. She came with a broken cry of his name, her body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure engulfed her and she went under.

Before the aftershocks had faded, he was moving over her, settling between her thighs with his weight braced on his forearms. When he entered her with one smooth thrust, they both groaned at the perfect fit.

"This is what love feels like," he said, moving with deep, measured strokes. "This connection, this trust, this absolute certainty that we belong together."

She met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist as they found their rhythm. This was making love with the kind of profound intimacy that came from choosing each other completely.

"I was so afraid," she confessed as he took her higher. "Afraid that if I let myself love you, I'd lose the independence I've fought so hard to build."

"You haven't lost anything," he replied, his movements becoming more urgent as pleasure built between them. "You've gained a partner who will fight beside you, not try to control you."

"Promise me something," she said, her hands gripping his shoulders as sensation overwhelmed her.

"Anything."

"Promise me we'll keep doing this. Working cases where financial crimes get people killed. Being partners in fighting corruption."

"I promise," he said without hesitation. "We'll build something together—a business, a life, a purpose that matters."

When her second climax hit, triggered by the perfect angle of his hips and the deep emotion in his voice, she clung to him as sensation consumed her. He followed seconds later, burying his face in her neck as he emptied himself inside her with a broken groan of her name.

They lay tangled together afterward, skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The basement that had served as their command center was now their sanctuary, the place where they'd finally claimed each other without reservation.

"No regrets?" Vincent asked softly, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder.

"Only one," Yvette said, surprising him.

"What's that?"

"I regret that it took someone trying to kill me for us to meet." She turned in his arms to face him. "I could have been living next door to my perfect partner for months without knowing it."

"Maybe that's what fate is," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Not the dramatic moments, but recognizing when someone extraordinary has been right beside you all along."

They held each other in comfortable silence, both processing the magnitude of what they'd been through together. Yvette traced the scar on Vincent's chest—an old wound from his military days that she was only now seeing in peaceful circumstances.

"This one's from Afghanistan?" she asked gently.

"Shrapnel from an IED. Different deployment than the one where I lost my team." His voice was quiet but steady. "I have a lot of scars from that war."