With Every Breath (24 page)

“Did you not hear a word I just said to you, woman?” he roared. “I care about you. I care a hell of a lot! Do you think I was pissed at
you
because you were abducted and fucking waterboarded and God only knows what else because you never shared exactly all you endured? Do you think I was pissed at you because you wanted to get back your own in the takedown? Jesus, you
are
an idiot.”

Her mouth gaped open and then shut and he put a finger over her lips before she could say anything further. He leaned in close so that their noses nearly touched.

“I was pissed because someone took you. I was pissed because those bastards put their hands on you. They tortured you. They hurt you and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do to stop it. I wasn't pissed that you wanted in on the takedown. I was pissed because you were in no condition to be going anywhere except to bed and I was sick to my soul imagining you being hurt or killed because you'd just gone through hell and had no business going into a high risk op. And I was pissed as hell that you nearly fucking died because a bullet meant for you would have gone right through your pretty neck and if it had hit you there wasn't a goddamn thing anyone could have done except watch you bleed out. And lastly I was pissed because you refused to take any downtime after your abduction and torture or after the op was completed and it was over. You were and have been running on fumes for a fuck of a long time and now I know why. I'm worried about you, Eliza. I'm sick with worry because I care a hell of a lot about you and what happens to you, and if I can prevent anything else from happening to you then by God I'm going to do just that whether you like it or not. Whether you hate me or not. Because at least you'll be alive to hate me.”

He took a deep, steadying breath, trying to regain control of his raging emotions. Her eyes were round and wide with absolute shock. Maybe he was finally getting through to her.

“As for admiring you? Jesus Christ, woman. You are the most infuriating, exasperating, brave, tenacious and loyal person I've known in my life. Other people can't hold a candle to you. I don't think there's another person like you on this earth. And by God, you're
mine
. I've laid claim and I'm not letting you go, so get over whatever problem you may have with that because you're stuck with me and I'm not going anywhere except wherever you go. Is that clear?”

He took his finger from her mouth and her lips parted and dropped open as she stared at him in wonder. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly as if she couldn't get out what she wanted to say. Then finally she spoke, her words hushed, barely above a whisper as she stared at him, raw, conflicting emotions reflected in her eyes.

“You
care
for me?”

“I think I've covered that point,” he said dryly.

“But you hate me.” Confusion registered and she shook her head in denial of the truth staring her right in the face. “You can't stand to be in the same room as me. You act like I'm the
last
person you want to be around.”

He sighed in exasperation. “And why do you think that is, Eliza? Think hard here. Does a man who hates you come for you when you've been abducted and tortured and hold you to reassure himself you're all right? Does a man not even employed by your agency insist on being included in the takedown you insisted on being a part of because he wants to make damn sure you're protected and unharmed? Does a man who despises you take a fucking bullet for you?”

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“
Now
she gets it,” he muttered, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Swear to God you are the most hardheaded, stubborn woman in existence and damn if I'm not insanely attracted to every single part of you and that stubborn mind of yours. Do you honest to God think I made love to you out of pity? Or worse, to extort information from you? Got news for you, honey, I would have gotten your story without making love to you.”

“I don't know what to say,” she said, desperation and bewilderment heavy in her voice.

Once again he put his fingers to her lips. “You don't have to say anything. Only understand. Understand that you are not alone. Never again. That you aren't doing this alone. Over my dead body will you confront this bastard and sacrifice yourself for me, the people you love or anyone else.”

SIXTEEN

“TELL
me something,” Wade said quietly.

Silence had descended in the aftermath of Eliza's emotional outburst and Wade had seemed to sense that she needed time to collect her thoughts and to process the bomb he'd dropped on her. She'd been shocked when he'd declared he had feelings for her. Stunned. It was the very last thing she'd expected him to admit.

Wordlessly, she glanced up at him in question. She was still wrapped solidly in his arms, ensconced in the comforting security and warmth of his embrace. His strength. She wasn't sure she could withstand any more of his unexpected confessions and she mentally braced for what was clearly occupying his thoughts.

He was regarding her intently, but no judgment or disgust was mirrored in his dark gaze. Somehow she found comfort in that when she had so little else to draw reassurance from.

“Did you ever have sex with Thomas? You said you wanted to but he said you were too young, but did you eventually?”

She was pathetically grateful he hadn't asked her if she'd
made love
with Thomas. Especially now when
Wade
had made love to her. Had shown her the difference between sex and making love, even if the thought freaked her out.

“No,” she said in a low sorrowful voice.

“You regret that?” he asked in surprise.

“No! God no. But, Wade, I
would
have. I wanted to. I fancied myself in love with him. I already had our future mapped out. We'd consummate our relationship when I was old enough and ready, according to him, but I would have had sex with him regardless of whether I was eighteen or not and that shames me. I was envisioning home, heart, babies, all the things a young girl dreams of when she's been deprived of the hope of ever having those things.”

“You have to stop holding yourself accountable for things you felt when you were still a child,” he said gently. “How many have there been?”

She blinked, uncertain as to where this line of questioning was going. What he was leading up to. Surely he couldn't be jealous of other men or rather man she'd had sex with. She'd rather forget the entire embarrassing episode.

Heat burned her cheeks and she tried to look away, but Wade wouldn't let her. He simply stared at her, again with no judgment or accusation in his eyes. Just patient understanding as though he simply wanted to know everything there was to know about her. Her secrets, things she'd shared with no one. Things he wanted her to share—and trust—with him.

“Just one,” she choked out. “And it took me years to work up the courage. Years to stop feeling guilt that I was in some way betraying a man who in no way deserved my loyalty or fidelity and also because after him, I didn't trust myself, my instincts, my choice in men. Because obviously my instincts had been all wrong. God, I was so stupid.”

“Stop,” he said harshly. “Just stop it, Eliza. Stop beating yourself up over the past. You can't change it. It's done and over with. But you can change the future. It's not written in stone, no matter that you refuse to believe that and you believe that you've already set the course for your destiny and have no choice but to see it through to the bitter end. Your end. And I will not allow that. Not now. Not ever.”

“Why do you ask?” she asked defensively. “Why does it matter how many men I've slept with?”

“It matters because if you've only ever had sex with one other man, then I'd like to know why me. It's obvious sex is not casual to you. Was I just someone you wanted to fuck you to make you forget? Was I a convenient dick? Would any man in the right place at the right time have done? Would he have satisfied you?”

She looked at him in horror, mortified by having her crass words thrown back at her, much the way she'd thrown them at him. It was no less than she deserved after the way she'd treated him. Like he had been a convenient dick and that she'd been using him as some sort of emotional crutch, but it hadn't been that way. Not with Wade and she was at a loss as to explain why it had been different. Why he made her feel different. The way he made her feel scared her and made her feel vulnerable and open, as though he was the first person she'd ever let past her carefully constructed barriers. He
was
the first.

Seeming to sense her hesitation, Wade spoke. “You mean something to
me
, Eliza. I'm merely trying to ascertain whether I'm flying solo here or if maybe, just maybe, you aren't as immune to me as you'd like me to think. That maybe you have feelings for me buried under all that animosity we both use as a shield, protecting ourselves from the truth of just how much we mean to one another.”

She froze, shoving her hands beneath the covers so he wouldn't see how badly shaken she was. How his words gave her a ridiculous thrill, and worse, allowed her the forbidden comfort of hope. But he wasn't fooled. He wasn't a man to ever be easily fooled. His eyes softened with so much tenderness and understanding that it was all she could do not to dive into his arms and burrow as deeply beneath him as possible and hide from the world. Lean on him. Borrow his strength and invincibility because Eliza felt anything but invincible right now.

“Is it so hard to admit you feel something—anything—for me?” he asked with gentle patience she hadn't thought him capable of.

She could swear she heard hurt and uncertainty in his voice, but that was impossible. Wade was made of stone. Impenetrable and at times so icy that he could make her shiver with one look. And he was nothing if not ultimately confident. He wore arrogance like others wore clothing. Why would he
care
how she felt about him? Why was he acting like it mattered and why did she feel as though so much hinged on her answering him honestly and that if she chose wrong, she stood to lose more than she ever imagined?

Because he cared for her.

She was still shaken by his admission, because he wasn't a man to ever express his feelings and open himself up to rejection. How could she reject him when he'd put everything on the line for her?

He'd laid bare his soul and she'd given him nothing in return. Nothing at all. Not even her trust. He'd risked everything to come after her. Risked his life by refusing to back down and leave before Thomas discovered his presence. And Wade was not a man to ever put himself in a position of vulnerability. He was cloaked in shadows, much like herself. His past was nebulous and questionable. So was his present. And yet he'd opened himself to her in a way she'd never imagined him opening himself to another living soul. That more than anything told her that she meant something to him. Not something. Everything.

“I feel
too
much!” she nearly shouted, the words bursting free before she could call them back. “There, are you happy? Are you satisfied? Haven't you taken enough pieces from me? Will you not be finished until there's nothing left of me at all?”

He gathered her tightly in his arms, ignoring her angry protests, her attempts to push him away, her struggles and her tears of helpless rage and frustration. “Was that so hard?” he asked gruffly. “Baby, I don't want to take you apart piece by piece. I don't want to take until there's nothing left. Never that, my love. I want to give you everything in my power to give. I want to put all those pieces back together so you can be whole again. So you can be mine. My Eliza. Not this shell of her lying in my arms right now. I won't rest until I have
all
of her back.”

“She isn't there,” she said sadly. “She's never been there. She isn't even
real
. She's a role I've played for years while I've hidden like a coward from who and what I really am.”

“No baby,” he denied. “You became who you weren't
meant
to be. And just so you know, you sealed your fate when you told me you didn't hate me and that you cared for me. When you thought to protect me because I'm important to you. I'm not a patient man in any sense of the word. Except when it comes to something I want and something that is worth waiting for. I'll wait for fucking ever if that's what it takes, but you're mine, Eliza.
Mine
. And I don't give up what is mine without one hell of a fight. So prepare yourself for fucking war. Fair warning, I fight dirty and I don't fight fair. I'll do whatever I have to in order to make you mine.”

“I'm not yours!” she said in desperation. “I don't belong to anyone.”

The last was said with sadness heavy in her heart. Once she would have given anything to have belonged to someone. To be cared about, cherished, loved. But she'd given up those fanciful, unrealistic dreams a lifetime ago because they weren't real. Would never be real. No matter how hard she wished otherwise.

His gaze swept hotly over her naked body, possession glittering in his eyes.

“No?” he asked in a dangerously low voice that should have sent her bolting from the bed as fast as possible. But the steel bands around her body held her firmly in place. “I think perhaps another demonstration is in order.”

Panic swept through her, but before she could react to his sultry statement and the glittering determination in his eyes that told her she was in way over her head, his mouth descended on hers. Hot, passionate and oh God, loving and so very tender that it brought the sting of tears to her eyes.

His tongue swept inside her mouth, delving deep until he tasted her and he was all she could taste. She tried to insert her hands between them, to push him away, but he merely held her more firmly, telling her without words that she wasn't escaping.