She kissed him again. Then whispered, “Dig deep, Damen. You know I wouldn’t.”
“I want to believe—”
“Then believe,” she urged. “Believe in me as much as I’ve believed in you. Just understand—the way I have to understand with you—that we’re not whole people. We’ve been shredded. We have difficulty piecing together absolutes until we’ve tapped every resource in order to find the truths we’re looking for, the truths we thrive on. We’re not perfect, separately, and… We won’t be perfect conjoined.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Doc,” he said, his intensity returning. “When we’re together, we make perfect sense. When we’re conjoined in any form…we’re perfect. The only thing fucked up about us is that we both have past trauma.”
She licked her bottom lip, and added, “We both have current trauma, too, Damen. Because someone’s hunting me and you have to protect me and that puts both of our lives in danger.”
“No one’s getting to you,” he swore—with notable conviction. “Or your computer…your memories of Conner. I will protect everything. I will preserve everything. I will ensure that you never lose that connection with your husband, Nikki.”
She gasped.
He pinned her with an intent look and said, “My desired result is not to wipe away your past with a man who loved you, who shaped you, who made you strong and brave and determined to save lives.”
Although tears suddenly burned the backs of her eyes at his words and his insistence, her gaze didn’t falter as she asked, “What is your desired result, Damen?”
“To move us forward. To move both of us forward.”
Damen knew every admission they made put their hearts in jeopardy.
He’d never lost his before.
Nikki Balentine-Kane had virtually had hers ripped from her chest.
When he’d told her this was no game, he wasn’t just speaking of the intel they had in their possession and a terrorist faction willing to kill them both—and anyone else standing in their way—in order to get to it. He was also talking about what transpired between him and Nikki. And how he adamantly would protect everything she held near and dear. Protect it as though it were his own, because he didn’t want her devastated again.
Nor did he want her to resent him for ending up in this position.
That was a tricky landmine to navigate unto itself.
Especially given that Damen still didn’t know if her hard drive had been obliterated when the information had been downloaded.
His gut twisted at that thought.
He had no idea how he’d even tell her, if that was the case. How he’d face her. How he’d accept a loss so profound to her.
There was nothing he could do about this now, of course. He needed the external hard drive from his IT team so he could transfer the data and free-up Nikki’s laptop.
Once he did that… He’d still want to keep her close. To ensure no one continued coming after her, even though his people would put out word that the ops center now had the intel in their possession. The terrorists might still be a threat to Nikki, because of her unwitting involvement. For which he would certainly take Garcia to task, despite the fact she’d rescued them all. Using a civilian was always a last, last resort. Using Dr. Nikki Kane should have been a hard-no.
Conversely… Damen would be lying—he’d be a hypocrite—if he didn’t acknowledge that Garcia placing the device in Nikki’s laptop was what kept Dr. Kane glued to his side this whole time, when she otherwise would have been on her way to Switzerland.
Damn, this was getting all kinds of twisted and convoluted. Not just their feelings and the dangerous situation, but also the intentions. They weren’t always crystal-clear.
One thing was an absolute certain, though: Damen wanted Nikki. If she felt the same… He would do whatever he had to in order to keep her.
So he directed her to rinse off and then they towel-dried. He led her into his vast dressing room, pulled out a drawer from the center bureau with a marbled top and told her, “Take your pick.”
She selected a soft, dove-grey Henley and slipped into it.
Damen released the buttons at the neckline and spread the material open, revealing the tops of her breasts. His fingertips along her skin heated her emerald irises. His hands glided over her collarbone and up her graceful neck, his fingers threading in her damp, deep-auburn hair.
“You are an incredibly sexy, savvy woman,” he told her. “Conner was a very lucky man to have had you.”
“I was lucky to have had him,” she said in a low voice.
Damen nodded.