Page 51 of Defiant Hearts

The thought hit, but it didn’t come with any of the trepidation big decisions usually came with for him. When he applied to the Black Heart Tactical Training Facility, he’d experienced a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He’d known if he earned a spot in the program, his life would change. He would be on hiatus from his job…and he could land himself on a team that pushed him closer to a military career than he’d ever been.

When it came to Whitley, he didn’t have any reservations at all. He left the picnic basket inside the door to return tomorrow and took her by the hand.

At the top of the stairs, she seemed to drag her feet as if trying to slow time, reluctant to part ways. A dark throb of want pulsing at the base of his spine, he continued on, leading her down their hall.

Between their doors, they stopped. After two weeks of sharing this space, it had taken on a sacred feel. Open doorways. Late-night conversations about things that meant nothing and somehow meant everything.

All those moments—and ones like the picnic they shared—added up and led them here.

He stopped gazed down into her eyes.

She stared back, that loose strand of hair hovering near her cheekbone.

He didn’t say the words that burned on his lips. He just quirked a brow in a silent question he probably didn’t have the right words for anyway.

Her eyes sparked with the emotions she had a hard time keeping off her face, and she nodded.

He reached past her and pushed his door open, drawing her inside with her hand still twined with his, and turned to lock it behind him.

The room was dark except for the last of the evening light glowing through the window, casting everything in a dusty purple.

She tilted her face up to him, and he read so much in those beautiful eyes.

“Wyatt.” His name falling softly from her lips undid him completely.

With a slow step he closed the space between them. Curling one hand around her waist, he drew her against him and kissed her.

His other hand moved on its own, cradling her jaw. She melted into the caress and clenched her fingers in the front of his shirt.

As he angled his head, he drew out the kiss and finally slowed it until it was barely a soft brush of lips. When he broke the kiss, he searched her face.

“You sure?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck in answer. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all the permission he needed.

He kissed her again, deeper, with more pressure, and she worked his buttons free one by one while he trailed his mouth to her jaw and the soft skin below her ear.

She shivered under his hands, and he pulled back far enough to shrug off his shirt and let it fall.

She flattened her palms against his bare chest and began to explore his pecs and down his abs. He stilled and let her set the pace, her touch warm and searching, like she was trying to memorize him by touch alone. Fierceness and tenderness warred in his chest at the sensation of her hands on his skin.

His throat felt too tight to breathe. “Your turn,” he roughed out and reached for the hem of the scrubs she still wore.

She lifted her arms and he drew it up and over her head in a slow move, unhurried as if he unwrapped a treasure. When he pulled off her top, her hair fell loose around her shoulders in silky waves.

He drank in every inch of her, trying to believe that she was real, she was here, and she wanted this as much as he did. The flush of color in her cheeks and the tight buds of her nipples pressing against the cloth of her bra left him no questions.

He swiped his thumb over her cheek. “Beautiful.”

Her lashes swept downward and then she flicked her stare back to his. What he saw there—passion burning bright—stole most of his control.

Slamming his mouth across hers, he walked her the last few steps to the bed, stripping off her pants as he did. When they tumbled to the mattress, he splayed one hand against the small of her back and cradled her head with the other.

A low moan escaped her, and he fed a groan back to her in a slick swipe of his tongue. Bringing his body down over hers, he braced his weight on his forearms and kissed her as if time stopped just for them even though every part of him wanted to rush.

She tangled her legs with his and gripped his shoulders to drag him closer. Her hands roamed over his back and down to his ass. She lingered there for a moment before sliding them back up to tangle in his hair.