Page 300 of The Christmas Wife

Of course, I know Cade Kingston is her brother. And there was something familiar about him… But I was so consumed by anger, and he looked so different from his pictures, I never, in a million years, would have recognized him as her brother.

I rub the back of my neck. "Fuck, fuckity, fuck."

"Indeed." She folds her arms across her chest. "If you had paused to think for one minute, or better still, decided to think with something else other than your dick?—"

"Which is very difficult for me to do where you’re concerned."

"—you’d have noticed that he had his hands on me, not in a lover-like fashion, but in a brotherly manner."

I lower my hand to my side. "He still had his hands on you."

"Didn’t you just hear what I said?" She scowls up at me. "He. Is. My. Brother."

"He was a man. He was someone other than me. And he was touching you."

She throws up her hands. "So?"

"So?" I bend my knees, peer into her eyes. "I will not tolerate you being with anyone else. I will set fire to the world before I let anyone else touch you, and that includes any sibling of yours."

"Jesus Christ, give me patience." She draws in a breath, then stabs her finger into my chest. "This passion of yours? This obsessive attention to what you want, this forgetting everything else except the one thing most important to you? This…this…all-consuming fervor is what you need to bring to the campaign trail."

I blink. "You’re comparing what I feel for you to the emotions I need to bring to the campaign trail?"

"Absolutely."

I glare at her. She pales but doesn’t look away.

"This fire inside of you, this need to go after what you want, this absolute focus that you have for me, it’s the most flattering thing in the world.".

"It’s how I feel about you," I growl.

"It’s the true you." She flattens her palm against my chest. "The one you need to show to your constituents. To this country."

This woman, only she could take my words and turn them on me, and yet…a part of me wonders if she doesn’t speak the truth. Is this what’s been missing in the run up to my campaign? Why I haven’t been able to galvanize my efforts behind this program? Why it felt empty, even to me, like something was missing? Why I feel alive only when I’m with her? Why I need her beside me to feel whole?

"You’re right."

Now, it’s her turn to look taken aback. "I am?"

I nod. "Since I met you, something inside of me, something I didn’t even know I had, came to life. Until now, I’d been following the path that was expected of me. Well also, my instinct dictated this was right for me. That deep inside I do want to serve my country. But it’s only when I’m with you that I feel inclined to follow my truth. Because you are my truth, Zara."

The color drains from her face. She pulls her hand back, but I curl my fingers about her wrist. "Don’t. Don’t deny what’s between us."

"Hunter, but?—"

"No buts. You saw me out there. You saw how I’m unable to control myself around you. And you’re right. I need to bring that passion, that visceral feeling when you want something to the exclusion of everything else, that ruthless determination to succeed, that aggressive, tenacious urge for domination that I feel when I’m with you, that I sense only when I’m with you. I need to become it. I am all of this when you are with me, by my side. When I’m in your presence, I am alive. It’s your proximity that fires me up. It’s your look, your touch, the feel of your skin on mine, your breath entwined with mine, the thud of your heart echoing mine, the drumbeat of your pulse mirroring mine… It’s always been you."

"Hunter, don’t," she whispers.

She tries to pull away, but I hold onto her.

"I’m only truly me when I’m holding your hand, Zara."

I lower my gaze to where I clasp her wrist.

She follows my gaze.

I place my other palm on hers, enfolding her smaller one between both of mine, then I go down on bended knee.

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