Page 85 of Brawler
He followed with a shudder, grinding into her, his mouth catching hers in a kiss that was more than sex, more than need. It was a claiming. A belonging.
When it was over, he held her pinned, both gasping, sweat-slick and trembling, their hearts racing in the same wild rhythm.
“Emily,” he rasped into her hair. “You’re mine now. Don’t even try to fight me on it.”
Her laugh was shaky, soft, but her arms tightened around him. “God help me, I don’t want to.”
With careful movements, he rolled off her, pulling her against him, those hands so big and unexpectedly gentle. “This has been crazy and fast. I know that. But I was so locked up, in my head about…everything, Emily.”
“I understand.” Her voice was steady, threaded with conviction. “You battle emotional chaos. The unspoken nuance, the people who say one thing but mean another, the mess of feelings no one will name, especially when you can’t fix it. I know who you are, Christian. It’s not emotional absence. You’re emotionally precise. Your empathy is intense, wired through structure, through service, through clarity. You feel deeply, and I love the way you filter it, through pattern recognition, through control, through action.”
He caught his breath, a rough, broken sound. “Emily…fuck.”
She clasped his face between her hands, eyes blazing. “I love you, Christian. Like you, I know it’s not rational…it’s nuts. Completely off-the-charts nuts. But I know how I feel because you set me free from grief. Danielle didn’t diebecauseI lived. Danielle died in a tragic accident, and Istopped livingas a result, thinking I had to do penance and sacrifice my joy. You offered me the space to forgive myself. You didn’t ask me to forget. You just asked me to come back. Not as a sister. Not as a penance. But as Emily. Whole. Wounded. Worthy. I say, yes. I want to be presentfor this. For you.”
Brawler growled, savage and undone. “You twist me up and drag me around like a huge giant on a leash, and I go willingly because you see me as enough.”
“More than enough,” she whispered fiercely.
He rolled onto her, hard and thick all over again, and she cried out when he entered her. “Goddammit, Emily. My Shortcake. I fucking love you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, thrusting into her over and over until the ache of their need couldn’t be contained anymore, and they fell together into something neither of them even realized they were missing, but reached for it with a lunatic edge, and a deep abiding love that couldn’t and wouldn’t be denied.
Hours later, tangled in sheets and shadows, Brawler’s voice broke the quiet. “I’m everything you said I was. I need to know…are you coming home with me?” He turned to her, his face contorted and so achingly beautiful in its vulnerability. “I need you, Emily. I’m going to need you for…forever.”
Her throat tightened. “Where is home?”
“Virginia Beach. That’s where I’m stationed.”
A faint smile curved her lips. “That’s a beautiful area. Near the ocean. I love that.”
“I have a house. Bought it with my parents’ insurance policy. It’s near the water. Toby loves to swim.”
Her eyes softened. “Toby. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“He’s going to love you, Emily. I mean really love you. He has a beautiful heart.”
She cupped his cheek. “Takes after someone I see.”
His smile flickered, boyish and raw.
“I’m pretty much done here,” she admitted. “My dissertation is dead in the water. I might try to salvage it later, but…” She reached for him, brushing her fingers along his jaw, her voice catching. “I’m all yours, Christian. I just need some time to pack up and?—”
“Your dissertation isn’t dead in the water.” He pushed up on an elbow, catching a strand of her hair and winding it slowly around his fingers. His mouth brushed hers in a whisper of a kiss. “On the contrary…we, ah, saw the secretary of state. She’s got some conditions, some NDAs for you to sign, but if you agree…” His grin was wicked-soft, reverent, and teasing all at once. “I’ll have to start calling you Doc Shortcake.”
Emily froze, staring at him like the world had just dropped joy straight into her lap. “Oh my God.” Laughter bubbled out of her, bright and shaky. “My team stormed the State Department. Apparently, only Navy SEALs can fight city hall and win.”
She set her palm against his chest, rubbing gently over warm skin. “I have one more question. How is Flash?”
Brawler’s expression shifted, shadowed. “He’s in a coma at Walter Reed. No one can figure out why. It’s strange. He’s not injured, no epilepsy, no stroke. Nothing. His brain activity is off the charts. He’s fighting something we don’t understand.”
Her voice softened. “Are you afraid?—”
“For Flash? Fuck, no.” His answer was immediate, fierce. “I’m afraid for whoever’s going against him. I feel him. Just like I feel my brothers. Just like I feel you. It’s how I’m wired. Thesense I get from him is power, intellect, analyzing, assessing, and Jesus, Emily, he’s fighting like hell. Something’s coming. Something massive. That’s all I know right now.”
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. They stayed that way a long time, comfort given and received, the silence between them deep and steady.
Finally, his stomach rumbled loud enough to break the moment.
She tipped her head back with a grin. “So, big guy, you must be hungry. I really can cook, even without a spit and some gamey, suspect animal protein. Wanna give me a try?”
