Twisted-Games

She froze at my low command, roughened by weeks of longing. For a
second, I thought she’d turn tail and run, which might be smart, considering
the pent-up fire raging through me. But then she ran toward me, her hair
streaming behind her in the wind.
I caught her easily while our mouths crashed against each other. Tongues
dueling. Teeth scraping. Hands roaming over every inch of flesh we could
access.
Two weeks might as well have been two years, based on the way we
devoured each other.
I cupped her ass and nipped her bottom lip in punishment for forcing us
to waste all the time we could’ve spent together. For thinking anything she
said could make me give her up when she was the only thing I’d ever wanted.
Even if I did stupid shit like walk out in the heat of the moment, I’d
always find my way back to her.
“I’m sorry,” Bridget whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For what I
said at the hospital. I don’t want to marry Steffan, and I don’t—”
“I know.” I skimmed my palm over her back, over heated flesh flowing
into cool silk, and another small shiver rippled through her. “I’m sorry for
walking out.”
Regret twisted my insides. Our separation had been as much my fault as
hers. I should’ve stayed. Fought harder.
Then again, she’d needed the space to sort through her thoughts. Her
grandfather’s heart attack had been fresh in her mind, and there’d been no
changing her mind that day.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” My hand lingered on the small of her
back. “Remind me to kill Markus the next time I see him.”
She released a small laugh. “Done.” Bridget tipped her chin up until her
eyes met mine. “I…” She appeared to think better of what she’d been about
to say. “How did you get in here? If anyone saw you…”
“They didn’t. Navy SEAL, remember?” I drawled. “I can evade a few
palace guards.”
She rolled her eyes, and my mouth twitched at the familiar sight of her
amused exasperation. Fuck, I’d missed her. This. Us.
“And Booth?”
“Nearly scared the guy to death when I showed up at his house, but I can
be pretty persuasive.” It’d taken less convincing than I thought. According to
Booth, Bridget had been in a funk since the hospital, and he’d hoped seeing