Tears spilled freely down my cheeks as we walked the path back to the safe house, and though Owen clutched my hand, I knew he was silently preparing to reprimand me when we got home. Strange that the safe house felt more like a home than my old apartment ever had.

I couldn’t get past the fact that I had not only gotten caught; I had hurt Owen in the process. I tried to catch his gaze, but he refused to look at me, keeping his eyes ahead even though I felt him squeeze my hand almost tenderly. In spite of how angry he might have been, I was comforted by the fact that he still seemed to care—even if it was just a little bit.

Pulling open the door to the apartment, Owen gave me a gentle nudge inside. I allowed myself to be guided, making a miserable path to the sofa and collapsing onto it. He closed the door, leaning against it and letting out a sigh.

He took a moment to shuffle over to his open suitcase, tucking his knife back into a hilt that had obviously been stuffed under his other things. I wondered if he felt as if he could trust me with the knowledge of where the knife was located, but then again, who could tell what I could be trusted with? I didn’t even trust myself anymore.

Turning to face me, Owen appeared somewhat torn in that moment. He was still being the more responsible between us, but that was nothing new. Walking towards me, he lingered in front of me for a moment before sinking onto the couch beside me.

He reached out to grip my hand again, and I inhaled a shuddering breath as I felt his warmth envelop me.

“I’m so sorry, Owen. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but…I really and truly am so, so sorry,” I blubbered.

He drew me closer, resting his chin atop my head. He rubbed my back, a steady up and down pattern that helped to soothe me. I closed my eyes, though sleep was the last thing on my mind. My body shook from the mixture of anxiety and adrenaline, but he didn’t seem to particularly mind.

Owen was breathing slowly, in through his nose, and out through his mouth. His breath tickled the top of my head, and I realized that he was trying to guide my breathing.

As I began to focus on regulating myself, the tears began to wane. The occasional hiccup escaped me, but once I had pulled myself together somewhat, Owen tilted his head down to meet my gaze. His breath was hot on my lips, and all I wanted in that very moment was to press forward and capture them with my own.

I realized that wouldn’t be particularly well received, as it stood, but the desire lingered.

“Do you know how dangerous that was?” he growled, his eyes locking on mine and refusing to break away.

I shivered, feeling inexplicably excited by the low growl I could hear just under his breath. He was getting angry now that he felt it was safe enough to do so, and I couldn’t blame him. All the same, I felt safer with him than I ever had prior.

“You could have been killed. The extreme jeopardy you put this mission in aside, you could have been killed, or worse. Do you not understand that?” he hissed.

“I’m sorry about the mission,” I said, sniffling, but he only seemed to grow more agitated. He gripped me by the chin, refusing to let me look away, and my breath caught in my throat, my pulse quickening as I rested quaking hands on his shoulders.

“Forget the mission! Did you not hear the rest of what I said, or are you choosing to ignore it? I know you’ve lived a sheltered life, Emily, but it’s time to start growing up. This is the real world, and it’s a dangerous place,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

The sound of my pulse pounded in my ears, and I knew he was right. I had been afraid, but I hadn’t truly grasped just what could have happened to me. I liked to think that the world was better, that people were generally good at heart, but…

“You’re right, and I’m sorry I put myself at risk. Nothing terrible happened, though. You saved me. You saved me again,” I whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.

There was slight stubble along his cheeks and jawline, and the sensation of it beneath my fingertips was electric. His skin was so warm, his eyes so intense. For all his rough edges, I knew he had softness as well. His heart was warm, and his lips looked perfectly kissable.

Unable to contain myself any longer, I closed the distance between us.

Owen seemed startled at first, and considering the conversation we’d just had, it wasn’t hard to see why. I realized something suddenly, however, something that I thought I could be no more certain of than I already had been. It seemed that the handsome soldier was going to keep surprising me at every turn, even if he wasn’t aware of it. I knew it had never been his intent to drive me to the brink of sweet madness.

I simply knew, in that moment, that I had never wanted to be with someone as badly as I wanted to be with Owen.

Though his lips were still at first, it didn’t take long for him to give in to the emotion of the moment. He threw his arms around me—one gentle hand on the back of my head, the other nestled against the small of my back. I gripped at his shirt desperately, having no idea what to do with my hands. I wanted to touch, and I wanted to be touched, but I had no idea where to start.

It was hard enough to think without his lips feverishly pressed to my own, but thinking logically while making out was apparently an impossibility.

Feeling his tongue prod at my lips, I parted them obligingly and moaned as he deepened our embrace. I wondered if all kisses were this intense, this bone shaking, or if Owen was just particularly good at it.

Either way, I was content to remain tightly grasped in his arms for an eternity.

When he drew away, he immediately lowered his head to kiss my neck. It was like he was a man possessed, and I could do little but mewl and gasp as his teeth brushed my pulse point. He sucked lightly at the skin there, and I pressed him closer in a way that I hoped was encouraging. It was all happening so fast, and all at once, I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach.

He shifted his hands to cup my ass, pulling me flush against him.

“Owen,” I moaned out, and he growled gutturally, pushing me against the back of the couch.

For a moment, I was sure he wouldn’t stop, he seemed so caught in the moment. When my hand ghosted against the front of his pants, however, he nearly jolted off of the couch. I stared at him, wondering if I’d done something wrong.

“I…oh, Emily. I’m sorry. I just…I got swept up, and…” he trailed off, looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

I hesitated, trying to steady myself and breathe normally in place of the desperate gasps I was gulping down.

“I would never push you into something like that, especially after…Christ, I’m sorry,” he said, tensing his hands into fists.

I rested my hands on his own, trying to soothe his doubt. It was the last thing I wanted him to feel. I brought his hand to my cheek, urging him to touch me. After a moment, his hand relaxed and I pressed against his palm.

“I’ve just…never done anything like that before. Everything was moving so fast, and I needed a moment to think. I didn’t think…I didn’t think you felt that way. I didn’t know you wanted me like I want you,” I said in a reverent whisper.

He smiled gently, tracing his fingers down the column of my neck.

“It would be a shame for me to just take your innocence in a burst of adrenaline on an uncomfortable couch,” he murmured.

I giggled, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him in close again. When our lips touched this time, it was gentler. There was no rush. He seemed content to let me explore him, to move at my own pace. I parted his lips this time, exploring his warm and moist mouth with my tongue.

He seemed to be struggling to keep his hands to himself, and after a moment, I drew away.

“You’re right; that would be a shame,” I said quietly.

I wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed—maybe both. I stood up, lingering a moment before inclining my head towards the bedroom.

“You’re ready to sleep after all of that?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

I shook my head, smiling shyly in spite of how bold I was being. He blinked, his cheeks turning the faintest tint pinker.

“Not sleep. I’m not going to push you into anything, either. It’s just…I kind of made my mind up about this…a while ago,” I sputtered, trying not to melt under his stare.

He rose from the sofa, tilting his head curiously for a moment.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked gently.

I nodded, trying not to buckle at the knees. It would seem he sensed my dilemma, because in one swift motion, he swept me up into his arms.

“Take me to bed,” I whispered.

He acceded to my request with surprising tenderness, carrying me to the bedroom.