Page 13 of Protected By the SEAL
“And you waited all this time? Why?”
“Took me a while to figure out what mattered,” I say instead. “She was always it.”
Morgana’s breath catches beside me. She stares at me, her eyes wide and flashing with emotion.
“Morgana, you’re being awfully quiet,” her mother observes after the dishes from the first course are cleared. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine, Mom.”
“You seem tense. This isn’t about Victor, isn’t it? I know it must be hard, watching him marry Belinda.”
I open my mouth and close it carefully as I count to ten. Why does everyone assume she still loves Victor? Why is her mother so publicly trying to shame her like this? They were together a long time, but Morgana said the breakup was mutual, notthe scandalous drama everyone here seems to think it was. Or maybe it’s familial revisionist history.
Before anyone can respond, there’s movement at the head table. Victor and Belinda are making the rounds, greeting guests. They’ll reach our table in minutes.
“Excuse us,” I say, standing and drawing Morgana up with me.
I guide her out of the dining room, through the main restaurant, out onto a terrace that overlooks the vineyards. The sun is setting, painting everything gold and crimson.
“Kane,” she breathes, turning to face me. “What you said in there.”
“Dance with me.”
“What?”
Music drifts from the dining room. I hold out my hand.
“Dance with me, Morgana.”
She takes my hand, lets me pull her close. One hand on her waist, the other holding hers, and we sway together on the empty terrace.
“I don’t understand you sometimes,” she says softly. “The things you say. The way you look at me. If I didn’t know better...”
“What if you don’t know better?”
She looks up at me, vulnerability written across her face. “Don’t. Please don’t say things you don’t mean. Not this weekend. Everything is already overwhelming.”
The words hit me square in the chest, because she’s right. Senior year, when we kissed at the pool party. Right before deployment, when I showed up at her apartment at two in the morning and almost told her that I made a mistake… but then chickened out because I was deploying the next day and felt guilty about making her wait for me. I’ve spent years holding back, not seeing what everyone else could so clearly see. She’s right to doubt me. I’ve spent years holding back, telling myself friendship was safer, easier. But looking at her now, there’s nothing safe about the way I feel.
Later,we’re relaxing in the hotel bar, where it’s quieter, and a relief from the rehearsal dinner chaos. We find a corner booth, and I order whiskey. Morgana gets wine. We sit close, thighs touching, and I can almost believe this is just another Friday night for us.
Morgana takes a sip of wine, then another. I watch her throat work and her fingers tremble slightly on the glass.
“What do you want, Kane?”
I set down my glass and turn to face her fully. The low light of the bar catches in her eyes, and she’s so beautiful it physically hurts.
“I want this…”
Her eyes go wide, lips parting. For a heartbeat, we stare at each other. Then I lean in and kiss her.
It’s not gentle. She freezes for half a second, then kisses me back with an intensity that threatens to make my heart explode. Herhand comes up to my jaw, and I growl into her mouth, pulling her closer.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“Kane,” she whispers, and I see tears in her eyes.
Morgana looks at me, and I see the world in her eyes. I kiss her again, slower this time, but no less intense. She makes a broken sound against my mouth and melts into me, hands fisting in my shirt.
