"What are we going to do when we get back?" I ask.
"Live." Luke's voice is simple, certain. He nuzzles my neck. "We're going to live, Harper. We're going to help Mason with the horses. We're going to be there when Emma has the baby. We're going to build something good."
"And the recovery operation Hendricks mentioned?"
"If we want it." Luke shrugs. "Hendricks thinks we'd be good at it—finding people who've been taken, bringing them home. But it's our choice. No pressure."
I think about that. About using what we learned, what we survived, to help others. "I think I'd like that," I say quietly. "Helping people. Making a difference."
"Then that's what we'll do." Luke presses a kiss to my temple. "Whatever you want, sunshine. I'm with you."
I turn in his arms to face him. "What doyouwant, Luke?"
He looks at me for a long moment, his expression serious.
"You," he says finally. "I want you. I want Blackthorn. I want the family we've built. That's it. That's everything."
My throat tightens. "Luke?—"
"I love you, Harper." His hand comes up to cup my face. "I'm in love with you. I have been since the first time I saw you in your uniform. You were so pissed off and so determined and so fucking beautiful. I didn't stand a chance."
I laugh, even as tears prick my eyes. "I love you too. So much."
“Good.” Luke's thumb brushes away a tear that's escaped. "You're stuck with me, sunshine."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He kisses me again, and this time it's different. Deeper. More urgent.
I shift to straddle his lap, my hands sliding into his hair, and I pull back just enough to grin at him. "You know what I've been thinking about all day?"
His hands grip my hips, fingers digging in possessively. "Tell me."
"How good you look when you're trying not to lose control." I roll my hips slowly, deliberately, and watch his eyes darken. "Like right now."
"Harper." His voice is strained, warning.
"What?" I lean in and bite his lower lip gently. "You don't like it when I tease you?"
"I fucking love it," he growls, his hands sliding up my thighs. "But you're playing with fire, sunshine."
"Maybe I want to get burned."
He laughs—low and dangerous—and suddenly his hands are under my sundress, pushing it up and over my head in one smooth motion. I'm wearing a turquoise bikini underneath, and the way his gaze rakes over me makes heat pool low in my belly.
"Fuck, you're beautiful," he says roughly, his hands tracing the curve of my waist. "And you wore this knowing exactly what you were doing to me."
"Maybe." I reach for the ties on my bikini top, but he catches my wrists.
"Let me," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "I've been thinking about unwrapping you all day."
His fingers work the knot slowly—torturously slowly—his eyes never leaving mine. When the fabric finally falls away, he makes a sound low in his throat that sends shivers down my spine.
"Perfect." His hands cup my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. "So fucking perfect, and all mine."
"Possessive much?" I manage to say, even as I arch into his touch.