She must have meant: from Scarif. He sensed and read on her maybe an even heavier weight. But he couldn't begin to conceive what that could mean; so, yes, from Scarif. He'd barely been able to withstand an hour of that feeling, so, if he dared think she felt the way he did, he couldn't imagine…
A dying moment is not a contract —and yet…
"I'm here now," he managed. "…I couldn't imagine if you weren't…"
Damn. Good thing he wasn't undercover. He couldn't have hidden from her his pulse pounding in his throat, his wrists; his chest still so close to hers, and on either side, his shoulders caving inward around her, to relieve the ache in his chest of not fully understanding the feelings from her, dying to help with them, and wanting more than anything to just lie down holding her.
He didn't ask for that. And he didn't touch her face. But he couldn't not stare into her eyes with all the depth of his own—infinities finding each other, as they had in that elevator. "Can we sit after all?"
no subject
A dying moment is not a contract —and yet…
"I'm here now," he managed. "…I couldn't imagine if you weren't…"
Damn. Good thing he wasn't undercover. He couldn't have hidden from her his pulse pounding in his throat, his wrists; his chest still so close to hers, and on either side, his shoulders caving inward around her, to relieve the ache in his chest of not fully understanding the feelings from her, dying to help with them, and wanting more than anything to just lie down holding her.
He didn't ask for that. And he didn't touch her face. But he couldn't not stare into her eyes with all the depth of his own—infinities finding each other, as they had in that elevator. "Can we sit after all?"