Page 18 of Jason Bourne
She murmured into my collarbone, half-asleep but smiling, “Next time… a bed.”
I kissed her temple, my voice a vow against her skin. “Next time, a bed. A ring. A forever.”
She laughed softly — that laugh I’d bleed for, kill for, live for.
“Good. About damn time.”
18
Jason
She fell asleep half on top of me, mouth open against my shoulder, one hand curled tight around the dog tag she’d stolen off my neck somewhere between the couch and the second round.
I didn’t move for an hour. Didn’t dare. I’d crossed deserts and oceans and kill zones for less peace than I had right there — Lane, warm and safe and snoring like she’d never been chained in some hellhole just days ago.
When the sun cracked low through the window, I brushed a kiss over her temple and murmured, “Wake up, trouble.”
She groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Nope. We gotta talk.”
She cracked one eye, glaring like a sleepy lioness. “If this is about a round three, I swear to God—”
I barked a laugh and rolled, pinning her under me, my hands braced on either side of her face. “I’m serious. We need to figure out what’s next.”
Her smile softened. She cupped my jaw, thumb tracing my stubble. “Next? You, me, Thor, Zoe safe… then what? You planning to drag me back to your base?”
I shook my head. “No base, sweetheart. I’m done chasing shadows overseas. I’ve got a house.Ourhouse, if you want it.”
Her brow furrowed, skeptical as hell. “Where?”
“Fraiser Mountain.”
She blinked. “Fraiserwhat?”
I laughed — couldn’t help it. “It’s a little mountain town, couple hours from nowhere. Pines, clean air, real coffee, no suits breathing down your neck. My old team’s there too — a few of them settled down, got businesses, kids. Good people.”
She stared like I’d offered to move her to Mars. “You expect me to live in some hick town where the highlight is a gas station with a squeaky screen door?”
I leaned down, kissed the corner of her stubborn mouth. “No squeaky doors. Just me, you, Thor chasing squirrels he’ll never catch. Nobody to chain you to a wall ever again. Nobody to chase you down dark alleys. Just quiet. Peace.”
She bit her lip — that telltale crack in her armor. “Jason… I’m not exactly the small-town wife type. I swear too much. I threaten people. I can’t bake cookies.”
“Perfect. That’s exactly what Fraiser Mountain needs. One pissed-off ex-FBI bombshell to keep the rest of us out of trouble.”
She huffed, rolling her eyes — but her hands slid up my chest, fingertips hooking in my dog tags again.
“You really think I’ll like it?”
“I know you will,” I said softly. “You’ll hate it for a week. Then you’ll realize you can shoot cans off the back porch without the neighbors complaining. You’ll make friends you’d trust with your life. And you’ll have me every night, no excuses, no disappearances.”
She searched my face like she was looking for a lie. Found none. Then she sighed — dramatic, adorable.
“Fine. But if they try to make me join a PTA or run the town bake sale, I’m burning that mountain to the ground.”
I laughed into her hair, heart wide open, finally unafraid. “Deal.”
She nudged my chin up, met my mouth in a soft, promise-filled kiss. “Anywhere you are, Bourne, that’s home. I never want to be without you again.”
