Say My Name (Stark International Trilogy 1)

When I see the tempest rising in that vibrant blue, I arch up, seeking more contact, wanting to go over with him, wanting to spin off into time and space with this man who has made me feel awake and alive and found. And when the explosion does come, I shatter with him, every piece of us coming together in a perfect union before we drift back down, gasping as we return to reality.

“Sylvia,” he murmurs, and my name on his lips is as sweet as honey, and as potent as making love.

I kiss him, then stretch with satisfaction, content when he pulls me close and I cradle my head upon his chest.

I feel safe and warm. And though he has never spoken the words, I feel loved.

I tilt my head up so that I can look at the face of this man who fills my heart and head. Who stands like a warrior to protect me from the demons of my past.

He looks back at me with such tenderness that I fear I will cry again, and when he bends to kiss my forehead a small tear of happiness really does trickle down my cheek.

I smile, satisfied.

I may not know all his secrets. And I cannot know the future.

But I do see the now.

And for me, for Jackson, right now is enough ….

epilogue

Jackson stood beside the bed and looked down at her. At the woman who made his heart beat faster and his blood burn.

She calmed him. Centered him. She filled his heart and his world.

She made him a better man—he knew that. Believed it. Hell, he cherished it.

And god help him, he cherished her, too. He’d been dead those five years without her, and he hadn’t even realized it. But he was alive again, and it was because of her.

Careful not to wake her, he slid into bed. His heart twisted as she moved in sleep to seek him out, then nuzzled against him, skin to skin.

Christ, what she did to him.

He brushed his hand over her hair, then played his fingertips over her shoulder. She’d pushed the sheet down in sleep, and he could see the tattoos that marked her breasts, just a few of many. Remnants of past pain, and some for which he bore responsibility. The thought twisted inside him, dark and unpleasant, and not for the first time he wished that he could carry her burdens.

She’d put her trust in him, shared her deepest secrets with him. And he knew that he had to do the same. But damned if the thought didn’t rip him to shreds.

He wanted to stay like this forever, lost in the dark, in the place between dusk and dawn, where reality felt like a dream, and he could believe that everything was possible, and that all stories had happy endings.

But there were things he had to do. Dark places he needed to visit. Battles that he must fight.

Secrets he had to protect.

He sighed and held her close, letting himself slide down into the soft comfort of sleep. There was nothing else to be done. Not really, not then.

Instead, all he could do was hold her close and hope that, in fighting to be the man he must, that he wouldn’t lose the one person who had finally made him whole.