Page 10 of Jason Bourne
“I want you,” she choked. “I want you, Jason—now. Please—”
I swallowed the rest of it with my mouth on hers, rolling my hips until she sobbed into my shoulder, nails tearing into my back. Her moans were messy, half-laughed curses and broken prayers that I never wanted to end.
I pushed inside her in one deep, relentless thrust — and the world fell away. The storm outside. The blood on my hands. The years between us.
Gone.
Just her. Just me. Just us — savage and desperate and finally,finallywhole again.
When she came, she said my name like it was a promise. When I followed, it was her mouth on mine that caught the roar.
10
Jason
For the first time in five years, she was asleep in my arms.
Not in my memory, not in some half-drunk dream at the bottom of a bottle, but here — warm and real and breathing soft against my bare chest.
I could’ve watched her forever. The way her lashes fluttered when she dreamed. The way she mumbled my name like it was part of her heartbeat.
Outside, the wind had finally died. The storm gave up at dawn, leaving a faint pink haze creeping through the cracked blinds. It painted her hair gold where it spilled across my collarbone.
My hand traced lazy circles on her back. She had new scars now — fresh ones, faded ones, marks that told a story I hadn’t been there to witness. Each one made me want to hunt down every man who’d ever put a hand on her and finish what we started last night.
But I didn’t wake her. She needed this sleep more than I needed the revenge. And God knew I needed it bad.
She stirredwhen the light caught her eyes. A soft groan — the kind that used to melt me when she’d roll into my chest before I slipped out for some godforsaken deployment.
Her hand flexed on my ribs, feeling the bandage there. She lifted her head, sleepy eyes locking on mine.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
She snorted, voice wrecked and husky. “Your pillow talks too much.”
I laughed — couldn’t help it. She’d always been the only one who could make me laugh like that, even with blood on my hands.
Her smile slipped, though, as she traced the edge of the bandage. “I thought I lost you yesterday. On that deck, when you pushed me… I thought—” Her breath hitched.
I caught her hand and pressed it to my mouth. “I told you, Lane. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
Her eyes went glassy. She blinked hard and pulled her hand back, wiping at her cheeks with an annoyed swipe. “Don’t look at me like that. I hate when you look at me like you—”
“Like I love you?” I cut in, voice low but steady. “Tough shit, sweetheart. I do. Five years of being away from you, hasn’t changed the way I feel. ”
Her breath caught again. But she didn’t run, didn’t push me away.
Instead, she whispered, “I never stopped, you know. Missing you. Hating you. Loving you. I’m so sorry I sent you away.”
I crushed my mouth to hers before the tears could win. She tasted like sleep and salt and forever.
When I pulled back, I rasped against her lips, “Never losing you again, Lane Ann Brewer. Not for anything.”
She smiled — really smiled, soft and dangerous all at once.
“Good,” she breathed. “Because next time you try, I’ll just hunt you down myself.”
11
