Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

I wanted to go back to Brogan, but I couldn’t leave Skye alone. Luckily, it only took about five minutes for security to clear the scene and Brogan to sink into the passenger seat.

I silently fell behind the wheel, noting his choice to sit up front instead of in the back. A good choice, it seemed, since he was still shaking with adrenaline. I opened and shut my mouth about six times on the way home, wanting to talk to him, but from the hard set of his jaw, he didn’t really look like he wanted to talk to anyone, let alone me.

By the time I got Skye settled in her crib, soundly sleeping after her big game day, Brogan was on the phone in the living room.

“I know,” he said, his tone more even now than it had been before. “He shoved a phone in my baby girl’s face, Langley. I’m not sorry I hit him.” Langley said something, and he nodded, then blew out a breath. “Yeah,” he said and then hung up the call. He tossed his phone onto the end table and then sank down on the couch. He raked his palms over his face, then cut them through his hair.

“That guy was an asshole,” I finally broke the silence while I walked toward him.

He jerked his head up, his eyes meeting mine and looking harder than they ever had before. “I shouldn’t have lost it like that,” he said.

I furrowed my brow. “If you hadn’t hit him, I would’ve.”

He glanced up at me, tilting his head. “Wait, what?”

I shrugged, standing before him. “You said Skye was off limits, and he didn’t respect that. I have a thing about boundaries. So, if you hadn’t hit him, I would’ve. Or I would’ve at least smacked his hand away. Kind of hard to throw a punch while holding a baby,” I said, trying to smile down at him, but he wasn’t cracking any more grins.

From the look of him? He was punishing himself.

“I can’t mess up like that anymore,” he snapped, but I could tell that anger wasn’t directed at me. “I’m a father now. It’s not like before when no one depended on me. I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. But now if I fuck up, Skye will pay the price.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” I argued. “You’re a dad, Brogan. You can’t be held accountable for your dad instincts.”

“I should be able to control my temper. Especially around Skye. Around you,” he fired back, jumping off the couch so fast that I had to step back. Something crushing flickered in his eyes, and I narrowed my gaze at him.

He thought I was afraid of him.

“Hey,” I snapped, forcing him to look at me. I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze he was so tall, but I stepped right into his space. “Are you listening to me? You didn’t do anything wrong. You got pissed about a guy who crossed a line. Totally within your rights.” He just looked at me, anger and defeat simmering in his eyes. “Now,” I continued, “if you’d gone all hulk on a grocery store clerk for giving you plastic instead of paper, then we could have the anger issues talk.” The smallest, barest hint of a grin cracked his lips.

I reached for him, smoothing my hand over the muscles in his chest, relishing the way the tension melted each second I touched him. He broke after a minute, finally uncurling those fists and sliding them around my hips.

“I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, and I laughed.

“It’s easy,” I said. “Because I love you.”

The words were out before I could stop them, and we both froze in their wake.

His eyes widened, the smile deepening while I stood there in a total panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I just killed any shot we had by saying the dreaded three words!

I scrambled in my own mind, trying to think of a way to fix what I’d just done. To somehow keep the bond between us without ruining it with promises and commitments and declarations.

Brogan parted his lips, but I flung my hand up, covering his mouth as I completely switched tactics. He cocked a brow at me as I pushed my other hand against his chest, forcing him backward until he sank onto the couch again.

And then I dropped to my knees, undoing his pants with shaking fingers. Because adrenaline rushed through my veins, and my heart was flying toward the fucking moon with what I’d just admitted out loud, and the absolute last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. Because talking about it usually led to nothing but heartache in my experience, so I’d just have to show him.

“Fiona,” he said as I tugged off his pants and boxer briefs. “You’re—”