"I have always wanted you," she said, the fullness of her heart demanding this bravery even as she feared the heartbreak sure to come. She reached out, grasped the condom, and handed it to him.

He licked his lips and tore it open. Sitting back on his knees, he rolled it on. Alyssa couldn't not watch him, even though she flushed.

When he returned to her, his shaft pressed so close to where she needed him that she gasped. Heat roared through her veins. Grabbing his shoulders, she shifted her body under his, seeking, needing.

He stroked her face. "Slow down, Aly. I don't want to..." He kissed her. "I have to ask." His eyes narrowed and an unnamed emotion flickered behind his gaze. "Have you done this before?"

Alyssa's stomach flip-flopped. She cupped her hand around his cheek and nodded. "I had one serious boyfriend in college. Sophomore year." But you're the only man I've ever loved. She held in that last thought, not wanting anything to ruin the moment between them.

"Okay," he whispered. He kissed her and reached between them. And then he was pushing into her, filling her. Alyssa moaned, the incredible physical sensations and overwhelming emotional intensity bringing every nerve ending to life and setting her body on fire.

Marco clamped down hard on the part of his psyche that demanded he seek out more, ever more, of the incredible pleasure Alyssa's body brought. He didn't want to rush through this. He didn't want it to end. So he forced himself to go slowly, to savor, to imprint every detail to memory.

And damn if Alyssa didn't feel like sweet perfection. She was silky soft everywhere he was hard, and as he moved in her, the most amazing sensations settled over him. Unconditional acceptance and belonging. Alyssa had always given him those, but when he'd been younger, he hadn't known just how much they meant. Now, the soothing balm of her love surrounded his body, poured out of her gaze, stroked him with every touch, and gave him the soul-deep knowledge he was right where he was supposed to be.

Her breathy gasps and small moans filled the room as he flexed his hips, filling and retreating in a gentle, steady rhythm that set off a slow burn deep in his gut. He pushed onto his elbows, wanting to see her face as they made love. She was so open and expressive, and she wore every ounce of pleasure on her face. And her pleasure fueled his. He gave her a small smile, words that needed to be spoken on the tip of his tongue. She smiled back. Marco's heart swelled and the ache he carried inside eased, just the smallest bit. It was everything.

Fingers dug into his ribs, urging him on. Marco kissed her and moved just a little harder, a little faster. If he let himself go the way his body commanded, this moment-the most amazing and fulfilling of his life-would end long before he was ready to let her go.

Maybe he never had to. Maybe this was just the beginning. His heart swelled as a future he never imagined himself worthy of suddenly rolled out in front of him.

"Marco," she said, her voice high and soft.

"How does this feel?"

"So good," she whispered. "There aren't words."

Marco couldn't have agreed more, but the desperation in her voice shoved his body hard. Urgent need barreled through his veins, made demands he wasn't going to be able to hold off from meeting.

He shifted, curling his hips to stimulate her, and her answering moan felt like victory. Watching her face, he moved, repeating those things that elicited the most pleasured sounds or expressions. Soon she was panting and holding her breath in turns, a red-hot pleading filling her eyes.

He moved harder. Faster. All the while watching her and ignoring the insistent pressure filling his own body.

Her mouth dropped open and her head tilted back into the pillow. She tightened around him.

"Yes. Oh, God."

The orgasm hit her and Marco grunted in deep satisfaction at the abandon with which she gave over to her release. A plaintive cry worked out of her throat. Her nails dug into his ass. Her hips lifted and pushed against him. Perfection.

And too much to resist. In three quick strokes, Marco exploded, his muscles going rigid even as he still moved within her slick heat.

He'd had his share of women, but not once had his heart ached and throat tightened with the desperate need to cry out the emotions he possessed for the woman he loved. Never before had he been in love. Now that he was, now that he'd found the real deal with Alyssa, sex became a whole-body experience that left him sated, exhausted, and wanting all at once.

Marco kissed Alyssa as his body calmed, but his heart raced between them. She stroked his hair, her touch and eyes so full of tenderness. He looked at her for a long moment and had so much to say, he couldn't say anything at all.

Jesus, he was a tongue-tied mess.

Aly's gaze dropped to his shoulder. Her fingers traced the scar from the bullet wound. Marco willed her to look at him, but she didn't. He frowned and observed her with new eyes. Absolutely beautiful? Beyond question. But that didn't negate the dark circles under her eyes. He pulled her hand away and examined it. Finger-shaped bruises wrapped around her wrist.

"Dammit," he bit out, easing himself from her.

She flinched, her gaze flying to his. "What?"

He glanced down at her wrist. "You went through a lot tonight, Aly. I shouldn't-"

Her heart squeezed. "Please don't finish that sentence. I wanted this, Marco. I needed it. I thought you did, too." She couldn't handle him expressing any kind of regret. Not right now. She knew well enough to know the incredible intensity of the night's events had brought them together, and that the light of morning would likely change everything. But she was holding tight to every moment she had until then.

He kissed her. "Yes, I did. Don't doubt that. I just can't turn off the need to take care of you." He shrugged one big shoulder.

She stroked his hair, loving the soft silkiness of it. Such a surprise when so much about him was hard edges and sharp angles. "I have always loved that about you, Marco. But I can take care of myself. I chose this. Please don't take that away from me."

"About that." He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. "What I said to you. I was so out of line. And wrong. I'm sorry I hurt you." He shook his head. "You're one of my oldest friends. And treating you that way, talking to you like I did, it's been killing me ever since."

She pretended like the friend comment didn't slice right through her. "I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I invaded your privacy."

"No. You didn't. Friends take care of each other. I just..." He dropped the condom into a wastebasket beside the bed, then returned to her side, his head propped up on an elbow, his left hand drawing lazy patterns on her stomach. The unthinking caresses made it easier to tolerate the absence of his warm weight. "I'm... Shit, Aly, I'm not the man I used to be. I'm a fucking mess now, to be honest. And I just didn't want you to know."

She turned into him, sliding her knee between his. "Do you really think I don't know something happened to you? I've known you forever, Marco. I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice. It emanates from you like a scent. I wanted to shoulder some of that for you, the way you've always done for me." She placed her hand on his chest, the rhythm of his heart playing against her palm.

Raw sadness shone from his blue eyes. "I don't like you hurting yourself for me."

"I don't like you hurting at all." She kissed him, deep satisfaction rolling through her when he hugged her in tighter. She took a chance and asked, "Will you tell me what happened?"

Shadows flickered behind his eyes and his expression shifted. She was certain she'd pushed too far and that she'd see the shutters come slamming down again.

He lifted a hand and smoothed back the side of her hair. For a long moment, he was quiet and distant, then he fingered her earlobe, his thumb gently turning the small earring she wore, the diamond studs he'd given her for high school graduation. "I love that you still wear these." He released a tired-sounding breath and met her gaze. "Long story short?"

Hope flared within. "Okay."

"I recommended my team act on some intelligence I'd spent months gathering. It turned out to be bad information, a setup. Three of our men died, and I got this"-he held up his arm-"and a brain that doesn't work like it used to. Brady is the only reason I'm here today. He saw the trip wire a second before the lead guy set off the bomb and pulled me out of the doorway. Well, mostly." His arm wrapped around her again and his gaze dropped to the sliver of sheet between them. "The loss of those men's lives will forever lay at my feet. Which makes it fitting justice that my disabilities disqualified me from further service, from the only thing I ever wanted to do."

Grief and sympathy filled her chest, but also gratitude to him for sharing and to Brady for saving him. She snuggled into him until they were nearly nose-to-nose. "You didn't kill those men. The terrorists did. Your teammates knew how dangerous it was, just like you and Brady did."

He shook his head, his eyes going hard. "It was my-"