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“I was hoping you’d show up.”
He already had his arrow nocked and pointed at her chest as the woman moved from the shadows of the abandoned warehouse.
Frustration and dread filled him, the voice tickling the back of his mind. Felicity inhaled sharply through the comms and he knew his suspicions were correct.
“Oliver…” her voice steadied him, inhaling a deep breath before speaking - voice modulator distorting his voice as it echoed around them.
“You set me up.” He knew he wouldn’t need the modulator at all with the growl of aggravation working its way up his throat. “This has got to stop.”
She took a few more steps towards him - heels clacking loudly on the dirty concrete floor. Skinny leather pants clung to her legs, red stilettos matching her bright red jacket providing the only color to her outfit. Her dark hair shone in the dim light, streaked with highlights of blonde. It barely moved when she walked, and he knew it wouldn’t be soft and silky like Felicity’s but hard to the touch.
As she finally moved out of the shadows, he saw her face. Eyes crazed and fixed on him, dangerous smile tilting her red-stained lips upwards. He’d seen people like this before - met up with them more than once in those five years he’d been away. He watched his best friend descend into a similar madness, his eyes taking on a far away, glittering look as if he could only focus on one thing - everything else fading into nothingness.
People like her were dangerous - and in his experience - often lethal.
“I’m hacking a satellite and retasking it to see if she’s alone - Roy and Digg are on their way,” Felicity rattled off in his ear. “As soon as I can get eyes in there, I can do a facial recognition search and find out more about her. But it’s the same one, right...the same one who…”
She didn’t finish the sentence and he was thankful because, yes, it was the same woman who’d shown up at a robbery two weeks earlier and then again when he’d been intercepting a drug deal set up by the Triad.
Both times the SCPD had been involved. That had to be where she was getting her information.
Tonight was different, though. The tip hadn’t been from Lance like usual, but he’d gone anyway not willing to risk it if a hostage was involved. He knew now why that peculiar feeling of dread had followed him.
“Come now,” she purred, beginning to circle him. “Drop the bow, we both know you’re not going to kill me. Plus, I can think of so many other things we could be doing…”
Her eyes narrowed, flashing with obvious desire as she let her eyes rove over him.
Oliver bit back his disgust, holding his bow steady and never taking his eyes off her. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like prey - wanted and hunted.
He gritted his teeth as her high-pitched laugh filled the silence. “I’ve had so many dreams about this - what I would do with you once you came to rescue me. Ever since I heard about you rescuing that girl from Queen Consolidated last year - killing that drug dealer to save her life…” she bit her bottom lip and almost purred. “I wanted you to do that for me. To come for me. Do you get a rush out of it? Saving the lives of damsels in distress? Did she offer you her...thanks? I can assure you, I’ll offer you mine...and, trust me, I’m much more experienced.”
Felicity let out a strangled and indignant sound and he felt the rush of anger flow through his veins quickly followed by something more potent and powerful.
The weight of her words slammed into his chest like a freight train; memories of that night bombarding his brain, reminding him of the absolute fear and panic that had come over him when he’d realized The Count had Felicity. He heard her whimpers in his nightmares for months after that - sometimes still. He’d never been more scared than he was when he’d walked into his offices to see her zip-tied to a chair in the executive board room, hair mussed and hanging loose from her normally slick and perfect ponytail. The terror on her face had caused his stomach to drop and all he’d been able to think about in that moment was that he had to keep her safe. He had to keep her alive. Losing her - it wasn’t an option. It scared him more than anything else - the thought of a world - his world - without her.
The second the needles had begun their descent to her neck, a blind flash of rage had overtaken him. Desperation to stop what couldn’t be undone. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. His body had taken over - years of honed skills flared to life and the next thing he knew he was staring at broken glass, three arrows missing from his quiver.
The look on her face when he’d reached out to her - the whimper that tore at his heart- it all came rushing back in tides as they crashed against his mind.
It was her voice that brought him to the surface, gasping for breath. She softly whispered his name and he clamped down on the bow making it creak under his grip as he breached those memories, holding on to her - a life-saver in the stormy seas of his memories.
“Oliver…”
He could tell by her voice she was thinking about that night as well. She tried to hide the tremble but he heard it loud and clear. He noticed she kept repeating his name and wondered if she was doing it for her benefit as well as his - as if she had to keep checking to see if he was still with her.
“Roy and Digg are five minutes out.” She finally continued after a pregnant pause where they both regained their equilibrium. She drew in a shaky breath and then she was back to the facts. “Her name is Carrie. She’s a freelance writer whose father is a tech advisor for the SCPD. That’s how she’s getting the information.”
He forced his mind to focus, opening his mouth and speaking the name Felicity had given him.
The woman across from him froze, head whipping to look at him, eyes narrowed as her lips spread into a thin line.
“How do you know my name?” she demanded, voice rising - her entire demeanor changing as if suddenly a different person. “How?!”
Oliver said nothing, knowing he could use this as a distraction and he needed to play it out until Digg and Roy got there. His eyes caught the glint of metal at her waist, something else clutched in her right hand. He knew he could take her out but he didn’t want it to come to that - if there was another way, he would find it.
Before he could finish his thought, her mood shifted again, face softening, ravenous glint back in her eyes as she took two more steps towards him, and he was about to move when he saw the trigger.
The red flash just inside her leather jacket and the switch in her right hand.
“You looked me up, didn’t you?” she rasped, biting her lip, only a foot away now. “You were intrigued. Admit it.”
“No,” he gritted out, desperately wishing he could get a message to Felicity about the bomb. Diggle and Roy needed to stay away.
Dark red lips frowned, almost into a pout. “Don’t say that.”
Her voice was lower than he’d ever heard it - and she squeezed her eyes shut - placing her hands on her temples. Oliver watched her carefully, wondering what was going on in her head.
And then she lifted her head, pained look gone and laughed gleefully, sending a chill down his spine and causing Felicity’s breath to hitch. “It doesn’t matter,” she crowed, in a sing-song voice. “You’ve figured that out, haven’t you? Because I’ve got you now...you try to do anything, I take us both out.”
He could hear Felicity’s sharp inhale and her voice tinged with fear as she called his name.
His body responded to her cry and he ached to be able to reassure her. He heard two clicks and then her voice again, this time with Digg and Roy on the line. “We have a problem,” she reported, and he was impressed as she managed to keep the tremble from her voice. “There’s a bomb.”
Digg and Roy both swore under their breaths as Felicity explained the little details she had and then turned her attention back to Oliver.
“I have the satellite images and the heat sensors are showing excessive amounts coming from her…” she paused and he heard her swallowing before she continued. “It’s strapped to her, isn’t it?”
There it was - the fear and pain - what she couldn’t mask anymore due to her own desperation.
“Yes,” he answered her and Carrie, at the same time, and the noise that Felicity made almost broke him.
He wanted to tell her he would be okay - tell her everything he hadn’t said. Redo the moments he wished he’d made different decisions. Ones that would have allowed him to be with her - wake up with her in his arms, fall into bed with her at night and hold and touch her at anytime. Decisions that would have allowed him that glimpse of happiness she brought him.
He wanted to tell her he’s missed her - every day and night since they decided not to be together after that fateful first date. Seeing her sprawled out in the rubble, blood coating the side of her face had brought all his biggest fears roaring back to life. His reaction to almost losing her and the subsequent consequences to the new Count left him reeling as he realized that she would always be his exception. He’d kill for her. He’d hurt anyone who hurt her. And if she was with him, that put her in more danger and the chance of it happening again rose exponentially.
So they’d both agreed and now...now, he’d throw it all to the wind because every second of every day, he ached for her - to be able to pull her close and kiss her nose and then her lips and hold her in his arms as he drifted off to sleep. He’d never felt more at peace than when he’d showed up at their date; when she’d smiled up at him, put her hand in his and lifted on her toes to return his hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek..
His heart had fluttered like the wings of a butterfly beating against a cage, and it was as if some part of him that had been dormant and missing for the longest time had roared to life, final pieces to the puzzle that had been torn apart in his chest put back into place.
“This isn’t the way to do this,” he tried, but Carrie was in his face, eyes glaring at him in two steps, her free hand on the bow.
“Lower the bow,” she ground out.
He did as she asked, knowing she was too unstable to test her resolve.
A smile snaked to her lips the second he let it drop to his side, arrow clattering to ground. “Now, that’s much better.”
Her hand slipped to his shoulder and his reflexes kicked in, catching her wrist in his hand and squeezing it. She hissed and he loosened his grip slightly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she bit out, raising her other hand and showing him the trigger which is exactly what he had wanted to see. “Dead man’s switches aren’t something to play with…”
Her heard Digg swear again and Felicity gasp, but his plan had worked and now they knew what they were up against.
Letting his hand fall away, she smiled. Now that he knew what he was working with, he knew he had to wait for the right moment. His reflexes were faster than hers, but he’d have to strike quickly, hoping he could get the device from her before she let go of it.
Distraction was his best defense right now. Keep her talking until he saw his chance.
“Oh, come now,” she stated, as he kept his head tilted downward in attempt to hide his face. Ears working overtime to pick up any sounds and movements. Her voice filtered through the hood and he grimaced.
“What? Do you have a girlfriend or something?” she taunted and he froze, muscles tensing as Felicity’s face splashed through his mind.
She apparently took his silence for an affirmative. “Oh, really? And who would that be...someone who obviously knows who you are...or maybe not?” She tossed her head to the side, “I personally prefer the mystery. We’ll be keeping the hood up…”
Her footsteps took her away from him once more, and it wasn’t until they stopped abruptly that he knew she had figured something out. His eyes tracked her to the edge of his periphery and cold dread settled through him as she slowly pivoted back towards him. The smile that lit her face sent a chill racing down his spine; half-triumphant, half-crazed.
“Wait...it’s the blonde, isn’t it?” she exclaimed. “The mouse-y girl you’ve rescued twice.”
Her shrill laugh grated on his nerves and he heard Felicity mumble into the comms, “Only if mousey means I could can hack all of your accounts and make your entire existence disappear…”
He resisted the urge to smile despite the situation, once again thankful for her in his ear - the familiar babble centering him.
“What could you possibly see in her?” Carrie asked condescendingly. “I doubt she can give you what you crave...what you deserve.”
“You know nothing about me,” Oliver stated evenly, keeping his emotions in check.
“So tell me!” the woman in front of him cried, once again too close for comfort. “Tell me. Let me in…Let me be what you desire. I see how you take care of this city, but who takes care of you? Let me...”
He shook his head, taking a step back, out of her grip. “My heart lies with someone else.”
Her eyes flashed and she started towards him, jacket shifting around her and giving him a glimpse of the bomb strapped to her. And that’s when he saw it. The wires - and the rookie mistake she’d made putting them in the front.
“Oliver, we’re almost there…”
Felicity’s words echoed in his ear, her voice clogged with tears and something else he couldn’t dwell on in that moment.
We.
His chest expanded when he realized she was with them and then tightened painfully. She was coming. But if Carrie saw her...if she saw his reaction to her...he knew it would all be over.
There was a possession in this woman’s eyes. A look he knew meant that she’d come here with the purpose of making sure that she couldn’t have him, no one else could.
His last words had tipped her over the edge - the thread of sanity she’d been holding on to snapping.
“No!” she cried. “You belong to me. You love me.”
Oliver let her close in, eyes darting between her hand and the dead man’s switch and the wires still peaking out from underneath her jacket.
He made a decision in that moment. He couldn’t let Felicity get close to this woman. He knew if anyone came busting through the door, it’d be over. There was no other choice to make. As much as he didn’t want it to end like this - he had to try.
Taking a deep breath, his chest heavy with the words he wished he had time to say - just in case. In one swift move, he flipped the modulator off.
“I love one woman,” he said, eyes fixed on his target, but another face filling his vision. “She is remarkable - in every way.”
Felicity’s gasping sob rang out over the comms as if knowing what he was about to do - and, of course, she would - sometimes he swore she knew him better than he knew himself.
“Oliver, please…” He didn’t let her continue, knowing if he heard her say the words, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
Carrie lunged at him and he dropped to the ground, hands flashing out and grabbing the wires, yanking hard, ripping them out just as she dropped the control and it bounced across the hard floor.
A second passed and then another, but there was nothing but silence, and he blew out a relieved breath.
Carrie cried out in anger, pulling a knife from her belt, but he deflected it easily, knocking it from her grasp as he grabbed her wrists and locked them behind her back. She kicked out, flailing hard against his hold, and it wasn’t until one of her heeled shoes caught his shin that his grip loosened enough for her to wrestle one arm free. The eerie cry that left her lips as she reached for the knife pushed Oliver into action. With one arm, he grabbed his bow, nocking and releasing an arrow just as she turned, dagger in one hand. A series of ropes wrapped around her, securing her as the dagger clanked against the floor. She fell to the ground, silent, but he could still see the rise and fall of her chest that told him she’d just been knocked unconscious.
Before Oliver could lower his weapon, the door to the warehouse crashed inward and he turned, eyes immediately finding Felicity’s.
Relief sagged through her small frame and a gasping sound escaped her throat as she ran to him, the force of her body propelling him backwards when she crashed into him. He secured a hand at her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck and burying her face into his hood.
He felt her hot tears against his skin and pulled her closer, one hand trailing up her back to cup the nape of her neck and rub soothing circles against her skin. He turned his face into her hair and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of her envelope him in wave after wave of safety and comfort and ease.
He let out a deep breath - the breath he’d been holding since he’d reached for those wires and felt his heart pounding against the confines of his chest at the idea of never seeing her again - of leaving her.
“You know that might not have worked...you know there is no telling with something like that and you could have been killed and then what? Then what would we have done? What would I have done? You can’t just...I can’t…”
A shuddering sob shook her body and he turned his head, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I couldn’t let you get hurt.”
He felt her pull back, tear-filled eyes look up at him under his hood. “And what about me?” she whispered almost brokenly. “What am I supposed to do if I lose you? I love you and you can’t leave...you promised me you wouldn’t leave…”
His eyes slammed shut at her words and he sucked in a breath, gaze finding hers after a minute before he bent his head and captured his lips with hers. She responded almost immediately, her hands curling into the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.
He tasted her for the first time in months, her lips moving against his in the same way he’d remembered - the way he’d craved for weeks and weeks. His hand threaded through her ponytail and under the holder that held it in place as she raked her nails over his head and down to the nape of his neck making him shiver.
When they parted, panting for breath, he leaned his forehead against hers and made another promise against her lips, searing those words into her heart and soul.
“I’ll do anything and everything to protect you, but I’ll also never intentionally leave you...I love you...so much.”
He watched as words failed her and so she simply nodded her head, pressing her lips to his for a hot, demanding kiss, tongues tangling sending tendrils of heat down his spine. When they pulled apart, she tucked her head into his chest, and he let his eyes flutter closed.
Even when Roy spoke up from behind them, Oliver continued to hold her, his eyes opening and narrowing at the younger man.
Digg cleared his throat and Oliver sighed, knowing they needed to take care of the situation.
Felicity sighed against his chest and then stepped back, but Oliver kept one arm around her, hand resting at her hip. She covered his fingers with her own, squeezing and he knew she appreciated the continued contact.
“I’ll send a message to Lance with the tip we got tonight,” she stated, pulling out her phone.
Oliver shot Digg a pleading look that his friend understood and after Felicity had sent the text, he and Roy stayed behind in the shadows to make sure the police got custody of the woman who called herself Cupid.
He led Felicity out to the back alley where he’d left his bike, and she’d only hesitated a moment before taking the helmet from his hands and climbing on behind him.
She held on tight on the way back to the Foundry, her arms wound around his stomach as he took the corners easier than normal. He couldn’t help but smile when she leaned with him, their bodies fitting together as two puzzle pieces that had finally found their right companion.
When they reached the Foundry, he kept her hand in his as they descended the stairs, Digg in their ears telling them Lance had arrived. He had been trying to call her phone, and Felicity pulled it out of her pocket, noticing the missed calls. Oliver glanced in her direction, and she gave him a short nod of her head in reply. With a gentle push, she propelled him towards the shower as she called Lance.
He gave her hand a soft squeeze and she smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling in the low light. As she greeted Quentin Lance, he strode towards the bathroom in the back of the Foundry, the sound of her voice drifting through the expansive area as he shut the door behind him.
His shower was quick, his body thrumming with the desire to be close to her once more. The hot water pounded down on his already over-heated skin and he thought back to those moments where he was sure it was all going to end. Never seeing her again, never touching her cheek or cupping her elbow, never holding her close or feeling her breath against his skin scared him more than he wanted to admit. His heart ached for her; as if once he opened those doors, there was no shutting them again. And he didn’t want to go back. He was tired of remaining silent while the woman he loved was close enough to touch. Rinsing the soap from his hair, he shut off the water and toweled off, frowning when he could no longer hear her voice through the door to the bathroom.
Grabbing a pair of cargo pants and a black pullover, he quickly dressed and opened the door, worry cascading through him when he didn’t see her at the computers.
His eyes scanned the Foundry, heartbeat already accelerating until he glanced down and found her.
Her back was to the wall next to the bathroom door, knees pulled up to her chest as she stared at the phone in her hand.
Concern furrowed his brow and he immediately knelt down before, slipping the device from her cold fingers.
“Hey,” he breathed, engulfing one of her smaller hands in his own, “Everyone go okay with Lance?”
Blue eyes fluttered up to his and he could immediately tell something was on her mind, but he let it go for the time being when she gave him a soft smile and nodded her head.
“With the evidence from the last two times she’s interfered with police investigations, and her obvious mental instability, they have enough to make sure she gets the help she obviously needs,” she replied tiredly, using her free hand to try and stifle a yawn. “Her father is a mess according to Lance. He saw her spiraling but never wanted to admit she needed help...now, it’s too late.”
He saw how much this was bothering her despite the fact that the woman had threatened both of their lives. As he watched her, he knew there was something else she wasn’t saying. She grew silent again, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and he desperately wanted to know what it was so he could help.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and he shifted his hand so his fingers could twine with hers.
“Hey,” he whispered, thumbs running over her knuckles in soothing circles. “What is it?”
Blue eyes fluttered up to meet his and he saw her quickly wipe at unseen tears that had tracked down her face with the back of her other hand.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she shook her head. “Just...When I was talking to Lance, he asked about you - he was worried about you, believe it or not. And I tried to hold it together but…” She paused, exhaling a soft puff of air before continuing, “he knows…”
Oliver’s hand froze halfway to her face, deep furrows knitting through his brow. “What do you mean?” he asked gruffly.
“He said he could tell...he asked me if I loved you,” she whispered brokenly, tripping over the words. Her lashes fluttered and this time his thumbs caught her next few tears. “I couldn't lie - not after tonight and almost...”
She shrugged, jutting out her chin and turning red-rimmed eyes up to him, “He’s not exactly thrilled, but…” she paused, brow wrinkling, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear from him about it.”
Oliver huffed out a chuckle. “Of course.” And her lips tilted upward at the his wry tone.
When she tilted her head backwards, head thumping against the wall, he knew there was more.
“Felicity…” He tugged at her hand, almost pleading with her, hating to see her so unsure and sad. When she lifted her head, he was surprised to see her eyes filling with tears again.
“He asked me if we knew what we were doing...that he didn’t want me to get hurt because of what you do...and then I couldn’t help but think of when we tried this before and,” she took a deep, gasping breath that sounded like it hurt and it pulled at his own unravelling emotions. “I don’t know if I can do that again…”
Oliver broke at her words, sinking to his knees, both hands sliding to her cheeks, brushing away her tears, fingertips running along her jaw and back to the sensitive skin behind her ears.
“Hey.” His voice was rough, thick with emotions that were clawing it’s way up his throat, a deep, intimate reaction at seeing her so upset. “I’m in. I’m all in. I love you and I’ve tried for months to shut those feelings off but I can’t...I can’t not love you, and I’m tired of trying to pretend that you’re not the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He paused, watching as two more hot tears slipped down her cheeks as her lips parted as she tried to find words.
He smiled sadly at her, dipping his head to lean against her own.
“I was scared - scared of just how much I love you, but I shouldn't be scared of it. Digg once told me that love isn’t about changing a person, it’s about finding the right fit...you’re my right fit, Felicity. I promise...I’m all in. I want to do this - with you.”
He whispered those last words against her lips, felt them tremble as she drew in a ragged breath. And then they were pressed against his, long and hard as her hands came up to grasp his forearms, and he felt the smile that formed on them. When he pulled back, her eyes were lighter, the worry gone and he returned the gesture, the vice around his heart lessening.
“Let’s go home.”
His words had the desired effect, her smile broadening as her eyes flashed with something dark and needy.
“I’d like that,” she rasped, and, in one fluid move, he stood, pulling her with him until she bumped into his chest from the momentum. He caught her, hands steadying her at the waist and squeezing lightly before leading her back over to her computers where she’d left her coat and purse.
She’d slipped her heels off when she’d been talking to Lance and he grabbed her coat while she put them back on, using his forearm for balance, fingernails painted a light jade digging into his sweater.
Her touch seared into him, a stark reminder of the brief moments earlier this evening when he wondered if he’d ever get to feel her skin against his own again. He quickly realized he didn’t want to stop touching her - his hand in hers as he lead them from the Foundry, the other at her back as they walked to her mini.
She handed him the keys and he looked at her in surprise. When she shrugged her shoulders and gave him a soft smile, he pressed a kiss to her temple and opened the passenger door for her.
It was a tight fight for him in her small car, but he didn’t mind because it smelled like her and for the first time in months, his heart felt at peace.
The drive to her place was familiar. He hadn’t been there in a few weeks, but he knew the route as he took it often when he couldn’t sleep - just to check in and make sure she was safe. He had a feeling she knew he’d shown up outside her place more than once if her looks the next morning were any indication but it was just another thing they didn’t talk about - not while she’d been with Ray or even after she’d broken things off.
He’d often wanted to ask her why, but something in his gut told him he knew the answer. Now, he was wondering why he’d waited so long. Except that he’d found the answers he’d been searching for after that fateful first date. There would always be danger in their lives. She would always be his exception. Not being with her wouldn’t change that - if anything, he’d just fallen more in love with her.
What he had learned was that it was okay to be in shades of grey for this particular part of his life. He was so afraid of becoming the person he’d been when he returned from the island that he’d failed to realize that there was no way he’d become that person again - not with the people in life - not with her in his life.
She and Diggle had helped him find something inside himself that he hadn’t known existed. They’d helped him find the hero amidst the pain and wreckage of his life. Merlyn had once told him that he would fail because he didn’t know what he was fighting for - and he’d been right.
He knew what he was fighting for now.
He was fighting for everyone and everything he loved. Especially her.
He also wouldn’t keep denying his feelings when all it was doing was hurting them both in the end.
By the time they’d pulled up to her townhouse, she was half asleep in the passenger seat, but woke as he killed the engine.
The walk to her door was quiet, but he once again found her hand and held on tight. It wasn’t until they were seated on her couch, the moonlight illuminating the otherwise darkened living room that she spoke again. And as usual, it was one of the last things he’d expected her to say.
“I hate the term mousey to describe anyone,” she scrunched up her nose, taking another sip of the dry red she’d poured for them from the half-empty bottle on her counter. “I am definitely not mousey.”
Oliver’s chest rumbled at her comment and he felt her shift against him as she craned her head back, a scowl on her wine-stained lips. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to her temple and felt the breath she released, her ire at him dissipating.
“That has never been a word I’ve associated with you.” His hot breath ghosted across her face and he felt the shiver that tumbled down her back, lowering his voice and speaking directly into her ear. “Remarkable, brave, smart, strong, stubborn, sexy, amazing...but never mousey…”
Her lips curled upward as he listed them off, and he leaned back when she twisted, pressing a hand to his chest, staring down at him as he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes.
He reached up a hand, brushing soft strands of golden hair away from her cheeks where it had fallen from her ponytail. Fingertips trailed along her hairline and then down her face, curling around her jaw and cupping her face as he tugged her gently forward.
She came willingly, and he grabbed the wine glass from her hand and set it on the table next to him as he deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue along her bottom lip as she gasped and allowed him access.
Her fingernails bit into his flesh and dragged up his torso until they were braced on his shoulders, her hips squirming against him and making it very hard to slow down the suddenly heady rush of desire that sparked through him.
With the little restraint he had left, he slowed the kiss and pulled his mouth from hers, moving his lips to her cheek and then her nose before pressing one more kiss to her temple and pulling her close to his chest.
A low whining sound filled the air when he broke away from her but she snuggled down against him, her arms snaking between him and the cushions to wind around his back.
Their breathing evened out, synchronizing as he felt sleep pulling at him. It was her lips on his collarbone and then his neck that roused him enough to open his eyes to find her grinning lazily at him.
“Come on,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Since you said all those wonderful things about me, I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch…”
He raised an eyebrow, fingertips dragging down her back to her hips and slipping beneath the material of her tanktop. “And where exactly did you plan on having me sleep?”
Her face flushed red and she opened her mouth and then shut it with a click before taking a breath and starting again.
When she finally did reply, her words knocked the air out of him.
“With me.”
Two simple words and yet they meant everything. “Always with me,” she whispered, eyes softening, tears forming at the corners and he knew she was thinking about how close she’d come to losing him and he didn’t want to see her sad.
He let out a long breath and tugged her back into his chest, resting his head against hers and breathing her in as she clung to him.
“I’d like that,” he finally said against her hair.
And without speaking, he sat up, bringing her with him, and lifting her in one smooth movement as he stood.
She squeaked and looped her arms around his neck, holding on tight as he walked them to her room, so thankful to be here, with her, at last.