Page 15 of Rescuing Rebel

Time to turn up the heat.

SIX

Rebel

Only the next day,Charlie team isn’t there to teach us self-defense. The men of Alpha team take over. The next month, it’s the men of Bravo team. Evidently, Ethan’s team is on a training rotation. There’s no sign of Charlie team or Ethan for two agonizing months.

I’m about ready to give up when, one morning, I come across Ethan standing alone by the cliffside during my morning stroll.

Drawn by instinct, I approach and touch his arm. He goes very still but doesn’t pull away. Slowly, I slide my palm up his shoulder, feeling the hard muscle beneath. Our eyes lock, simmering with unspoken desire.

“Rebel. Don’t.” My name escapes his lips like a plea.

“Why not?” I press closer, fingers trailing up his neck’s strong column. His pulse hammers under my fingertips.

“We can’t.” Ethan grasps my wandering hand, though he doesn’t move away from our charged embrace. “It would be taking advantage.”

I shake my head, rising up on tiptoe. “Not if that’s what I want,” I whisper softly against his lips.

His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of coercion. Finding only willingness, he makes a rough sound and crushes his mouth to mine in a searing kiss.

Warmth spreads through me at the feel of his soft lips. The kiss begins tame, but rapidly deepens, our passion unrestrained now that the gates have opened. I whimper into Ethan’s mouth as his tongue strokes mine. His arms yank me flush to his hard chest, leaving no doubt about his desire.

We come up gasping, foreheads pressed together.

“That was...” Ethan struggles for words, his voice rough.

“Perfect.” I cradle his face and draw him back to me. With a muffled groan, he gives in, mouth hot and hungry on mine. However this started, we’re both falling fast.

We steal what moments we can over the next few weeks, hyperaware of listening ears and watching eyes. A brush of fingers as we pass in the hall. Stolen kisses in empty rooms. Murmured conversations lasting into the night, laying bare our damaged souls.

Ethan never presses for physical intimacy, letting me set the pace, but the sexual tension between us simmers below the surface. A heated look is enough to convey everything left unspoken between us. I crave his touch, but he seems determined to be a gentleman.

The day comes when Ethan invites me to Guardian HRS headquarters—my first time leaving The Facility since being rescued. Ethan gives me the grand tour, those piercing eyes monitoring me for any sign of distress.

He’s protective to a fault, which I find both endearing and infuriating. I don’t need to be handled like something fragile.

At the firing range, I ask if we can go inside. His brows lift, but he puts on a good show, fetching earmuffs and safety glasses. It’s been long enough that the weapon feels foreign in my hands, but muscle memory takes over.

I empty the clip in rapid succession, forming a tight cluster over the heart of the human outline.

Lowering the smoking gun, I meet Ethan’s stunned expression.

“Beginner’s luck?” I quip with forced lightness.

He nods, seeing me in a new light, but I say nothing. He doesn’t pry, and for that, I’m grateful.

Everyone has their secrets.

The tour concludes back at The Facility. We wander to the cliff’s edge, holding hands, and stare out toward the ocean. The setting sun bathes us in golden rays as we stand close, our shoulders barely touching. A tantalizing contact, hinting at further intimacy to come. My restless hands itch to pull him closer, to feel his body pressed fully against mine.

But Ethan seems content taking things slow.

Too slow. His noble restraint is admirable but also frustrating. Doesn’t he feel this urgency between us? This hunger that gets tighter each day we deny it?

Oblivious to my frustration, he takes my hand, stroking his thumb softly over my skin. “Have dinner with me tonight?” His tone holds a new vulnerability. My earlier irritation melts away. This feels like more than satisfying desire.

I lace our fingers together. “I’d love that.”

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