He almost looked tender. He brushed her hair off her forehead. Then took her good hand in his, holding it gently.
Okay . . . what was going on? Who was this man? What had happened to her Spike? The gruff, blunt, take-no-prisoners man?
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“I lied.”
She stiffened. “About what?”
“Do you remember the night you were shot? We were in Pinkies and I said I didn’t love you and never would. That I’d never love anyone the way I did my wife?”
“I remember,” she said hoarsely.
“That’s when I lied.”
She stared at him in confusion. “I think you’re going to have to tell me more than that because I’m not getting it.”
The look Spike gave her told her that he didn’t understand how she was missing his point.
She was all drugged up. She’d been shot! So sue her for her confusion.
“I lied about not loving you. Only I didn’t know I was lying at the time. But having you nearly die. Fuck. I can’t lose you, Millie. I can’t.”
His voice cracked and she stared at him in shock. Spike didn’t crack. He was solid as a rock. Granite. Stone. And he was looking at her like he was going to lose control at any moment.
Then his words penetrated.
“You love me?”
“I love you.”
“But how?”
He snorted. “How? What do you mean, how? You’re beautiful. Smart. Kind. Sweet. Bit naïve. But that doesn’t matter, because you’ll have me to protect you from now on. And nothing will happen to you. I won’t fucking have it.”
His voice became a low, savage whisper and she could tell he meant every word.
Holy. Hell.
“You love me?” She had to repeat it just to be sure.
“I love you, baby doll. More than fucking anything. You’re my whole fucking life. Think I fell for you the minute I saw you pull that arsenal out of your bag at Pinkies.”
“No way. You hated me.”
“Never hated you.”
“All right. Was annoyed by me. You think I’m nosy and annoying and crazy.”
“Well, yeah. But I can think that and still fucking love you.”
She gaped at him. Then a freaking miracle happened. His lips twitched.
They. Actually. Twitched.
“Did you make a joke? Was that a joke? What is happening here? First you tell me you love me. Then you make a joke. Then you nearly smile! Am I dying? I’m dying, aren’t I?”
“You’re not fucking dying,” he growled. “Don’t even joke about it.”