Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 293

Falling for my boyfriend’s Navy brother

Chapter 293

1 carry her inside like I might lose her if I let go. Her arms draped around my neck, face tucked into my shoulder, legs

curled around my waist like she belongs there–and she does. She does.

The door shuts behind us with a quiet click, and the apartment is dark except for the low kitchen light I always leave on. I

don’t turn on any others. I don’t need to see her. I already know her by heart.

I don’t head straight to the bedroom. Instead, I stop in the hallway and press her back to the wall, just for a second, because I need to kiss her again. Not frantic this time–just full. Deep. Like an apology and a promise all wrapped into

one.

She sighs into my mouth and lets me take her weight, lets me ground her. I think she knows I need it more than she does.

By the time we finally reach the bedroom, I’ve already peeled off her jacket, her sweater, and that stupid pair of leggings

she said were “too comfy to retire.” They hit the floor one piece at time, soft thuds trailing behind us like evidence. By

the time I lower her onto the bed, she’s bare, glowing in the dim light.

She stretches out, long and lazy, her hair a halo of ink on my pillow, eyes half–lidded and lips kiss–swollen.

“Staring,” she whispers, a tiny grin playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Can you blame me?” I sit on the edge of the bed and run the back of my knuckles down the slope of her thigh. “You’re

unreal.”

She shifts closer, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “Then get up here.”

I don’t need to be asked twice.

I strip fast, throw on a pair of sweatpants just to feel semi–human, and climb in beside her. She curls into me instantly, warm and soft and still faintly flushed from earlier. My arm wraps around her like instinct, her leg hooking over mine, skin

to skin.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest. I can feel her slowing, grounding, her breath evening out with each exhale.

We don’t talk much. We don’t need to.

We already did all the talking. Hours of it. Lying tangled in blankets and candlelight, her head on my chest, my fingers brushing her arm, both of us catching up on everything we missed. Not just about the Vultures. Not just the pain and the fear and the shit we survived. Everything. Her dreams. My regrets. Her favorite books. The stupid way I like my eggs.

Talking to her doesn’t feel like talking. It feels like breathing.

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Chapter 293

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Now, with her tucked under my arm, limbs tangled up like thread, I feel her sigh. It’s the kind of sound she only makes

when she’s safe. The kind of sound that makes me feel like I did something right for once.

I brush her hair back. “You okay?”

She hums. “Better than okay.”

We’re quiet for a long time after that, just breathing in sync. Her hand rests over my heart, thumb moving in slow,

rhythmic circles. She feels like home.

I press a kiss to her forehead and close my eyes, but I don’t fall asleep.

Not yet.

Because there’s still that part of me–the one that’s always been wired for war, for consequence, for worst–case scenarios-

that can’t believe she’s really here. After all of it. After the lies, the danger, the miles I put between us thinking it would

protect her. She still came back.

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