Page 172 of The Thief
I turn in her arms and study her face in the steam and spray. "Most women would run from a man like me."
"Most women haven't lived the life I have."
"And what life is that?"
"One where good men are rare and worth fighting for when you find them."
"You think I'm good?"
"I think you're mine. And that's all that matters."
Her hands slide down my chest, over the scars that map my history. Some old, some new, all of them stories she's heard in pieces over the time we've been together.
"You're beautiful," she murmurs.
"I'm a killer."
"You're my killer."
The possessiveness in her voice sends heat straight through me. After the night I've had, after the violence and blood and death, her acceptance feels like absolution.
"Tríona—"
"I love you," she says, rising on her toes to press her lips to mine. "All of you. Every dark, dangerous, protective part."
The kiss is soft at first, tentative. But when I respond, when my hands tangle in her wet hair and pull her closer, it deepens into something hungrier.
Need. Relief. Celebration that we're both alive, both whole, both here.
"I love you too," I whisper against her mouth. "More than I've ever loved anything."
Her response is to press closer, skin to skin, until there's no space left between us. The water beats down on our shoulders as she maps my body with her hands, relearning every inch like she's making sure I'm really here.
"You came back to me," she breathes.
"Always will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I lift her then, press her back against the tile wall. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, trusting me to hold her up.
"I was so scared," she admits against my ear.
"Of what?"
"That you'd lose yourself in the violence. That you'd go so far into the dark I wouldn't be able to pull you back."
"Never." I cup her face and force her to meet my eyes. "You're my anchor. My way home. Nothing's more important than getting back to you."
“Show me.”
Her voice is soft—pleading—but it cuts deeper than any scream.
“What?” I ask, even though I know.
“Show me I still have you. That the man who walked out tonight is the same one who came back.”
