Page 118 of Striker
His heart expanded. This was what he wanted. Day in, day out. Molly.
She placed her hand on his cheek and gently stroked the bristles he’d forgotten to shave.
“I don’t need time away from you, Atlas. If anything, I’ve learned that’s the last thing I want.” Her attention shifted out the window, and she bit down on her lower lip. He couldn’t help but sense the dreaded but.
“I feel like I’m a mess right now. I-I know I just need to process things, and that might be too much for you?—”
He caught the back of her neck, forcing her gaze back to him. He shifted her on his lap so she was straddling him. “Dammit, Molly. I don’t ever want you to think I can’t handle what you’re going through. All right? Nothing’s changed on my front.”
She gave him a weak smile. “Even if I have PTSD in the shower?”
He didn’t smile back because none of it was funny. He brought his forehead to hers. “I can live with showering together.”
I can’t live without you.
She chuckled. “I guess that’s a positive trade-off.”
He caught her wrist gently, careful of the abused skin, and brought her palm to his lips. “I’ll do whatever you need, baby. You give the order and I’ll take the shot.”
Her smile grew. “You’re like the most badass combat guy in the world, and you’re telling me you’d take an order from me?”
“Yup. Order me to kill, order me to fuck, just don’t order me to leave. Can’t promise I’ll do that easily.” Having stripped away his invisible Kevlar, he prayed he hadn’t said too much.
He wanted Molly. He didn’t want her under duress.
She surged forward, bringing her lips to his. Her sweet scent filled him. His hands wandered to the gentle swell of her hips, and his body responded tenfold. Her chest pressed against his, and he felt her nipples through the thin material of her shirt.
Need burned his nerve endings. His cock sprang against his joggers. It took everything in him not to carry her to bed—sex wasn’t what she needed.
She pulled away and her hair fell in a long curtain over her cheek.
He brushed it back and skimmed his fingers over her delicate neck. “What do you think, Mol?”
She settled her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not sure if I can tell myself what to do, let alone you,” she said with a chuckle.
“All right.” He placed his hands back on her hips. “Let’s chill in Panama for a few days. Why don’t I get us a private short-term rental near the beach? After all, I never got to see your bikini.”
She laughed, joy twinkling in her eyes. “Well, unfortunately I’m going to look like a kid’s splatter painting in my yellow bikini and colorful bruises. But time on the beach sounds heavenly.”
Fuck, he hated the bruises. He’d seen enough of them while helping her in the tub earlier. He’d never get that image out of his head.
“All right. Panama for a few more days, then we’ll head back to the US. Sound good?”
She nodded. Her fingers toyed with his neckline. “Then what?”
The innocent inquiry brought with it a world of other questions. He had the answers to them, but maybe she pictured a different outcome. Didn’t matter. He’d always bare his heart to Molly, whether he was left gutted or not.
“I remember you mentioned you lived with your parents before coming here. I’ve got a place in Pittsburgh. So I guess you’ve got two options.”
Her gaze flew to his, widening. “Are you asking me to move to Pittsburgh?”
“I’m asking you to move in with me.”
She blinked.
“We can take things slow. Once I talk to Rogue I’ll know more about my schedule, but I’m pretty sure I’ll have a month off. Plenty of time to take a trip to Illinois for your things and to beat Brad’s ass.”
Molly’s head fell back, and a laugh rolled from her throat. “Atlas! You can’t be serious.”
