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.