Page 53 of Viking

Frustration tears through me. White-hot and raw.

The military and it’s fucking timing.

My hands are still shaking. My heart’s still pounding with the phantom feel of her legs around me, the lace under my fingertips, the sound of her breath in my ear. I can still taste her. I rake a hand through my hair, forcing a breath into lungs that haven’t caught up. Everything in me is still burning, still aching with all the things I’ve wanted since she walked out of that Vegas hotel room. And for one perfect second, I thought I had her again. Not just her body, all of her.

But now she won’t even look at me.

And I can’t do a damn thing about it.

Lila clears her throat, smoothing her hair back into its braid. “Can I help?” she asks. “Am I allowed to see you off?”

I shake my head, hating the answer. “I’m sorry, but no. In the case of a normal deployment? Of course. But this is anything but normal.”

Her fear tightens the air between us.

“Hey,” I say, stepping closer and grabbing her face in my hands. “Look at me.”

Her green eyes lock on to mine, shining with unshed tears.

“I’m going to be fine. I’ve done this before. Dozens of times. I fly the most deadly fighter jet in the world. A ghost, remember?” I try to tease a smile out of her, but Lila doesn’t bite. “And I’ll be in touch as much as I can,” I add softly. “It’ll likely be a few days, but I’ll call as soon as I have reception. I promise.”

I lean in and brush my mouth over hers. It’s meant to be one kiss, but the second we connect, I know it won’t be. Her mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry, and I lose track of everything but her. She drags her fingertips down my chest and I swear every nerve ending fires. I’m hard again, throbbing against her, my body not giving a damn that I’ve got ten minutes to pack my bag and vanish.

I back her into the counter, my hand slipping beneath her shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin just below her ribs. She whimpers against my mouth.

Fuck, I want her. I want her more than I want my next breath. But I won’t take her like this.

I pull back, pressing my forehead to hers, my breath ragged. “Lila—” I choke out, voice thick, “—if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

Her eyes flutter open, glassy and full of heat and heartache. I kiss her again, slower this time, lingering on her mouth like I’m trying to memorize the way she tastes. “We’re not doing this for the first time minutes before I walk out the door,” I whisper. “I can’t do that to you.”

Her lips part, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything. Just breathes. Then quietly—brokenly, “I don’t care if it’s not perfect. If it’s not ideal. I just…” Her voice wobbles. “I just want to feel something good before you go.”

Fuck. I want that too.

She takes a step closer, her fingers trailing along my waistband. “Please,” she whispers. “You’re leaving, Logan. And I don’t know when, or even if, you’ll be back.”

I catch her wrists gently, my thumbs brushing over her pulse. “That’s exactly why I can’t,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Because if this is goodbye, I’m not making it a quick fuck in my kitchen.”

She flinches like I slapped her. I curse under my breath and tug her back in.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m coming home.” I press a kiss to her temple, then her cheek. “Lila, look at me.” I lift her chin and force her eyes on mine. “I want you. I want you so bad it hurts. But when we do this, I’m not letting it be rushed. I’m not walking out two minutes after. You deserve more than that. We deserve more.”

She rests her forehead against my chest, her breath shaky. And I hold her, tighter than I probably should, memorizing the way her body fits against mine.

I pull back gently, grabbing my T-shirt off the floor. “I have to pack.”

She nods stiffly and follows me into my bedroom.

I keep my deployment bag mostly packed since missions sometimes come on suddenly, but there are still a few things to grab. Lila sits on the edge of my bed, her back ramrod straight, her green eyes tracking my every movement as I fold uniforms and check gear.

When I walk over to my nightstand and pull out my spare key, her gaze sharpens.

“Here,” I say, placing it into her palm and curling her fingers around it. “Come here whenever you want. Hell, move in—I don’t care. But you’re welcome here. Always.”

Her lips press together, and she stares at the key like it’s burning her skin.

“I’ve never felt this way before, Lila,” I admit.