The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

Her breath caught, and she gasped at the tall figure standing in the middle of the pavement in service uniform.

“Jameson,” she whispered, her knees nearly giving out in relief.

…

He covered the distance between them, eating her alive with his eyes. She was okay. He’d flown two missions last night, breaking only to refuel and eat before launching again, and he’d worried about her the entire time.

“The thing about you working Special Duties is there’s no one who will confirm that you made it to work.” His voice came out sandpaper rough, and he didn’t care.

“Right. They wouldn’t.” Her gaze raked over him, as if she needed the same reassurance he did—they were both alive.

Her sister glanced between them. “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

“I’ll take her home,” Jameson offered, unable to look away from Scarlett. “That is, if you’d like me to.”

Scarlett nodded, and Constance slipped away.

Only feet separated them, and he knew his next words would either narrow or widen that gap, so he chose them carefully. He took her hand and led her from the sidewalk, through the short grass, until they were hidden from view and shaded by the heavy limbs of a giant oak tree.

There was worry in those blue eyes as she looked up at him. Worry, and relief, and the same longing he felt every time he looked at her.

Maybe the right words weren’t words.

He cradled her head in his hands and kissed her.

…

Finally. She felt as though she’d been waiting a lifetime for this man, this kiss, this moment, and it was finally here. There was no hesitation on her part, no gasp of surprise as he stroked his lips across hers, kissing her softly.

She slid her hands up his chest, resting them just above his heart. Then she kissed him back, rising on her toes to press her mouth to his. It was as though he’d set a match to a pile of tinder—she went up in flames.

He deepened the kiss, gliding his tongue across her lower lip before drawing it between his. Yes. She wanted more of that. When she opened to him, his tongue swept inside, stroking hers as he learned the curves of her mouth.

He was good at this.

Heat licked its way down her spine, igniting her skin and singeing her common sense into a hasty retreat. Her hands fisted in his uniform, and she threw herself into the kiss, yanking him closer even as she felt them moving backward. Her back hit the tree, and she barely blinked. He tasted like apples and something deeper, darker. More. She wanted more.

She wanted to kiss Jameson every day for the rest of her life.

She felt his groan throughout her body when she explored his mouth the way he had hers, finally drawing his lower lip between her teeth lightly.

“Scarlett.” He swore against her lips, then took her mouth over and over, moving his hand to her waist to pull her closer.

Nothing was close enough. She wanted to feel his every breath, every heartbeat, wanted to live inside that kiss where there were no bombs, no raids, nothing that would pry him from her arms.

She lifted her hands to his neck and arched against him as his lips slid to the curve of her jaw. Pure, insistent need unfurled in her belly, and her fingernails bit into his skin as she gasped at the sensation. He worked his lips down her neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses, and she tilted to give him better access.

He reached the collar of her uniform and, with a groan, brought his mouth back to hers. The kiss spiraled, taking her with it. She’d never felt so consumed by another person in her life, never willingly given this much of herself. In the midst of letting go, she stumbled onto the truth she’d been too hesitant, too cautious to admit until now: Jameson was the only one she would ever want like this.

He gripped her hips with strong hands, then slowed the kiss until it was nothing more than soft brushes of his lips against hers.

“Jameson,” she whispered as he rested his forehead on hers.

“When I saw those explosions coming for us, I didn’t know how to protect you.” His grip tightened.

“You can’t,” she said softly. “There’s nothing either of us can do to keep the other alive.” Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck.

“I know, and it’s killing me.”

Her stomach tightened. “I’m not marrying him. I need you to know that. I spent all night watching the waves of the raids, and the thought of losing you—of you up there, thinking God knows what…” She shook her head. “I’m not marrying him.”

“I know.” He kissed her again, light and soft. “I should have let you explain. The shock just about ripped me apart.”

“There will be more,” she warned him. “If my parents went this far, they’ll go further. There will be more rumors, more articles, more pressure. As long as you know the truth of it, I can handle them.”

He nodded and swallowed, a pained look crossing his face before he brought his gaze back to hers. The intensity she found there stole her breath. “I’m in love with you, Scarlett Wright. I’ve done everything I can to fight it, to take it slower, to give you what time and space you need. But this war isn’t going to give us that time, and after last night, I’m not hiding it anymore. I’m in love with you.”

A sweet ache began to throb in her chest. “I’m in love with you, too.” What was the point of avoiding it, of not giving in, when neither of them knew if they’d be alive tomorrow?

The smile that lit his face was echoed on hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel that happiness radiate, to sink into every fiber of her being. But now that