Page 181 of Controlled Burn
He shook his head. “She won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I signed the divorce papers this morning.”
That made her stop breathing for half a beat.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” she said.
“I know. That’s why I told you.”
The air pulsed. Heavy. Still.
Talia swallowed. “So what now?”
Dean took a step forward. Just one. His voice was quieter now, hoarse. “You walked through hell tonight. I just wanted to be here. Even if all you needed was silence.”
She watched him. Read every crease in his face—every hesitation.
“Why’d you really come?”
His eyes didn’t flinch. “Because I care more about you than I should. And I knew if I didn’t see you again tonight, I’d lose my fucking mind.”
Her pulse thudded against her ribs. “I’m not your problem anymore.”
“You’ve never been a problem.”
That broke something.
She stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat between them.
“You keep showing up after the damage is done.”
“Then maybe that’s where I belong.”
He reached out like he was afraid she’d pull away. His fingers brushed her wrist. No bunker gear. No rules between them. Just skin.
“I can go,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”
She didn’t answer. Just looked up at him.
“Dean…”
“Yeah?”
“Make me forget he ever touched me.”
He nodded like a promise.
She kissed him.
Not sweet. Not forgiving. Just need. Sharp and fast. Her hands twisted into the collar of his shirt, yanking him down like she needed to taste his regret, his ruin.
Dean groaned, teeth scraping her bottom lip as he pulled her closer. His body was rigid, all heat and edge, and when his hands found her waist, he gripped like he was holding on to the last piece of himself.
He backed her into the bunk wall, mouth crushing hers. Their kiss wasn’t gentle—it was starvation. His fingers slid under her shirt, calloused palms dragging up her ribs, greedy, reverent. She gasped when his thumbs brushed the underwire of her bra.
“This what you want?” he rasped against her neck. “After everything? After him?”
