Shock raced over his features. “You want me to run?”

“It’s not running. It’s being smart. It’s being safe.”

A defiant look filled his eyes. “I’m not tucking my tail and running like a coward.”

Like you.

She heard the words loud and clear. As loud as if he’d screamed them. Her blood ran cold, and what little hope she’d had of trying to talk some sense into him withered and died. But the anger—the resentment she’d lived with for far too long—was still there. Bubbling to the surface after everything she’d endured.

“You don’t have a clue what it means to live for someone else, Mitch. If you did, you’d know running doesn’t always mean you’re weak. And it doesn’t make you a coward when it’s protecting the people you love.”

She turned for the door. She was done trying to reason with him. Done feeling guilty. She couldn’t physically make him do something he didn’t want to do, and it hurt too much to sit back and watch him put his life on the line for something she could save him from. The only thing she had left to do was get to Shannon then, yes, run, at least until she could figure out what it was the Feds thought she had that was so important.

“News flash.” His hand slapped against the door, preventing her from escaping. “Running from the man you supposedly love doesn’t make you strong, Simone.” He grasped her upper arm and jerked her around to face him. “And yes, you are a coward because even though you’re standing here professing your so-called love for me, you’re still holding back.”

Her eyes widened. She yanked her arm from his grip. “Holding what back? I’ve told you everything.”

“You’ve told me what you think I want to hear. Not the truth. Not what’s really eating at you.”

Simone stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “The fact I love you isn’t enough? The fact I still love you, even after you slept with someone else hours after we broke up, isn’t enough for you?”

“No, it’s not. If you really want me to disappear, then tell me the truth. All of it. Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

“I already told you,” she sputtered.

She tried to move away, but he blocked her path. “Just say it. Say the real reason you’re always running from me, from us.”

“I’m not running. I…” She braced her palms against his chest and tried to push him away, but he was like a solid rock, immovable. He was too big. Too close. Her head felt light. Her pulse raced. Sweat slicked her skin but did nothing to cool her down.

“I don’t need this,” she fumbled. “I don’t need you trying to make me feel things I don’t want to feel. My life was just fine before I met you. It was structured and ordered and…and I never had to depend on anyone but me. Can’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve made my life messy. You’ve made me messy. I had everything under control until you came along, and now I’m a complete disaster. And I don’t like it. I can’t control it. I can’t control you, and I don’t want to need you, dammit. Every time I’ve ever needed someone, they haven’t been there for me, even you. So just…just back off already and stop…fucking…pushing me.”

She shoved hard, and he finally stumbled back a step. Chest heaving, she took several breaths in the hopes it would calm her raging temper.

Several seconds passed in silence. Then reality hit, followed by a tidal wave of embarrassment. Oh shit, had she really said all those things?

“I didn’t sleep with that girl.”

Simone’s heart stuttered. Unsure if she’d heard him right, she lifted her head, but instead of the fire she’d seen burning in his green eyes moments before, now they were smoky, focused, and just a little bit unsure. “You… What?”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I was going to. I was so pissed at you, I thought if I could fuck her, it would prove I was over you. But when it came down to it”—he clenched his jaw—“I sent her home.”

She had to be hearing things. The Mitch who’d just laid into her moments before couldn’t possibly be saying this to her now. “Wh-why?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

Apparently, she did. Her brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Somehow she’d gone from professing her love, to screaming at him, to confessing her biggest fear—one she hadn’t even known was at the root of everything. “Um, yeah. Right now I think I do.”

His eyes softened just a touch, just enough to tell her…he still felt something, even if it was only a fraction of what he used to feel for her. “Because she wasn’t you.”

The room spun. And the blood pumping in Simone’s veins turned to a roar in her ears. Her body moved on instinct, before her mind even cued in to where she was going. Her limbs felt like lead weights, but she closed the distance between them and reached for him, needing the connection, needing to touch him, needing…him. “Mitch…”

“Dammit, Simone.” He caught her before she fell. His arms slid around her waist. Her fingers found his shoulders, his neck, threaded into the curls at his nape. Then his body was plastered to hers, his head angling down, his mouth closing over hers in a kiss that stole her breath.

She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to worry about an hour from now or tomorrow or next week. She only wanted him. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Her mouth turned greedy against his. She brushed her tongue over his, again and again, feeling the flames of desire building inside her. Feeling the cracks in her heart slowly mend with every brush and lick and nip and stroke.

He pushed her back against the door until the solid wood pressed up against her spine and his body plastered against her front. He angled his head the other way, kissed her deeper. One hand fisted in her hair, the other slid down her side, under her sweater, brushing the bare skin of her belly.

Every nerve ending came to life. Every inch of skin tingled. She lifted her chin so she could taste more of him, pushed her chest out in invitation so he would touch her. His hand streaked up her rib cage, sending tingles everywhere, then closed over her breast, squeezing through the soft satin of her bra while he continued to feast on her mouth.

Just when she was about to scream that it wasn’t enough, he jerked away from her, grasped her sweater at the hem, and yanked it over her head. Cool air washed over her skin, but it was replaced by his warm, solid, muscular chest pushing into hers all over again.

His mouth attacked hers with a fierceness she’d never experienced from him. Warm. Wet. So damn erotic. As if he were starved. As if he were possessed. As if he couldn’t get enough. His hands rushed down her back, over her ass, then under. She felt the heat of his groin, heard the brush of denim against denim as she kissed him, and then he was pulling her away from the door, lifting her in his arms, carrying her…she didn’t care where, so long as he didn’t stop.

Her palms grazed the scruff on his cheeks, her fingers toyed with the silky soft locks of his chestnut hair. He hitched her to his side, somehow freed one hand and unclasped her bra. Air whooshed over her bare back, and then her spine hit the mattress. He yanked her bra free. Startled, she looked up and caught his blazing gaze just before he lowered his head and laved his tongue over her right nipple. Electrical vibrations rocked her body, but in that one look, her pulse thundered and every hesitation she’d had about telling him she loved him disappeared into the ether.

“Mitch…”

“Don’t tell me to stop,” he said against her breast.

“I wasn’t. I won’t. Just…” She grasped his head, lifted her torso from the mattress, tugged his face back to hers, and kissed him, hard. He growled deep in his throat, his hands turning greedy, his fingers fumbling with the button on her jeans. At her hip, she felt his erection, already thick and hard, pressing against her. Her hands rushed down his sides, to the denim at his hips. Tangling her tongue with his, she pushed at his waistband, desperate to free him, to feel him, to make him hers once more.

She never should have walked away from him. She’d been stupid to think she ever could. Losing him had hurt a thousand times worse than losing Steve ever had, and now she knew why. Because he was the one. He was hers. He was everything that had been missing in her life for far too long.

“Mitch…” She nipped at his bottom lip, sucked it between her own, tasting him and a desperation that ignited a searing burn in her core. “I need…”

“What?” His hand slipped inside her jeans. “What do you need?”

His fingers found her sex, traced the line of her slit, drew her wetness up, then circled her clit until she saw stars.

“Oh God.” She pulled her mouth from his, closed her eyes, opened her legs to give him more room.

His teeth nipped at her jaw. He kissed his way across her throat. Pressed his lips against the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear until she shivered. His fingers continued to circle and swirl, then slid lower, until one thick digit pressed inside. “Tell me what you need.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. She was a burning inferno on the edge of combustion.

She turned her face back to his and lifted toward his mouth. “You. Just you. Now.”

His hands turned wild. He pulled away from her lips and stripped her of her jeans in one swift move. Gasping at the rush of cool air washing over her body, she pressed her palms against the mattress and tried to look up. But all she could see was him—blazing eyes, flushed cheeks, quivering muscles straining, all for her.

She wanted to tell him what he meant to her. Wanted him to know this wasn’t just sex, that it was more, that he was more. But she couldn’t find the words. And then he was there, pushing between her legs, lowering his hard body to hers, capturing her mouth with his own and robbing her of all ability to think as the thick head of his cock found her opening and he pressed deep inside.