Standing in front of the mirror, a towel wrapped around her body and her wet hair cascading over her shoulders. Charlie was brushing her teeth, and it had been a long day, yet she couldn't shake off the nagging thoughts about what Levi had said about Harkin and his dealings. She paused in her mid-brush.

Why? Charlie thought to herself.

Quickly, she spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth before turning off the faucet. Charlie patted her face dry and exited the bathroom. She planned to head straight to his bedroom and call it a night, but she stopped as she reached the hallway. His tone was stern but calm, and it caught her attention. Charlie tiptoed toward the living room, stopping just short. She stayed hidden, leaning in to listen without revealing herself.

"... we have everything in place before we lock into extraction," John said since he was staring at the balcony clear glass doors. "It doesn't matter whether Harkin and his men expect us to be there; we'll cut the ship lines and go all in."

Her brow furrowed as she listened to his conversation.

Ship lines?

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard him chuckle, but it didn't sound genuine. It was more of a scoff after he listened to the response on the other end.

"Did you forget that Harkin has gone above and beyond to prove to his mob boss that he can handle the dirty work, without Rich, by supplying even more illegal weapons?" John asked sternly. "He doesn't realize that soon he'll be mytarget when I go after him next."

Charlie held her breath.

Michael? Illegal weapons?

She shook her head; it wasn't her place to eavesdrop. Yet, she still listened. Her heart raced as she tried to remain silent. The tone she hadn't recognized was the authoritative edge she was starting to associate with his "Captain" persona. She pressed her back against the wall, clutching the towel tighter.

"Look," a faint male voice—likely Gaz—came through the phone. "That's too soon to secure the point before extraction. I know Harkin has been a pain in your ass, but we reached the conclusion that he's after the drive and not Charlie. We need to wait for Laswell to give us a green light."

Her brow furrowed as she tried to process the cryptic exchange.

"We've less than a week," John said sharply. "We cannot afford to wait, even if she takes a day or two to call the shots. Look at it this way: if that bastard gets everything he needs, he'll target civilians—and will target her. You should've seen her bedroom when I checked. He sent his men to find the drive and her."

Her.

She held her breath and covered her mouth to muffle the small gasp that escaped her lips.

Wait a minute, it's me he's talking about, right?

Her cheeks burned. She peeked around the corner, catching a glimpse of John sitting on the couch, his gaze staring from the black TV screen. His shoulders were tense, his posture rigid.

"Well, if it is her. Then, I can't argue your point," the voice on the end said.

"And I will take my chance," he said. "You know this."

"I do, but don't lose sight of the objective," Gaz warned him. "The last thing we don't need is repercussion on our end."

"Let's hope Laswell gives me the snake so I can kill it."

He ended the call and clinked his phone on the coffee table. John ran a hand through his hair and face. Then he let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes.

Charlie stayed frozen where she was; her heart tugged as she watched him. She could see the stress weighing heavily on his shoulders and how he sat, frozen in place. It was a part of him she didn't encounter often. Unsure of what to say or think, she realized that John was about to risk everything, and it all connected back to her.

Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped back and tiptoed toward his bedroom. But, she paused in the hallway, closing her eyes. Her chest tightened as she pressed her lips together, and a frown formed on her brows while she struggled to control her emotions. He had done everything for her—never complained, never expected anything.

He just... gave.

And now, he's going to go out there and put himself at risk.

For her.

The unexpected risk and love she felt came from someone who had endured many hardships that she could not understand. Yet, she stayed and admitted that she wanted him. Taking a soft, steadying breath, Charlie opened her eyes and braced herself. She turned and made her way to the living room. Her bare feet padded against the floor. She saw him sitting on the couch, his head leaning back, his eyes shut as if trying to catch some rest.

Without a word, Charlie tiptoed closer. Her heart pounded with nerves and resolve as she climbed onto the couch, carefully straddling his lap. Her hands rested lightly on his chest.

John stirred, his eyes opened in surprise.

She watched his expression shift from tense to relaxed when he saw her.

"Hi," Charlie said gently.

"Hi," he replied, his eyes locked onto her with a tired smile.

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead and his cheeks and his nose. His arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he sighed. His eyes drifted shut again, and they simply stayed like that.

After a moment, Charlie broke the silence. "John?"

"Hmm," his eyes were still closed.

"If there's anything I can do for you," she said, "what would it be?"

John opened his eyes.

"Hold still," he murmured. "I want to hold you."

Her heart twisted.

After hearing his conversation, the simple request made her heart soar. She reached up and cupped his face, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of his beard. Leaning in, she kissed him. John accepted the kiss and cradled her face with his hand. When they finally broke apart, John rested his forehead against hers.

"That's enough, love," he said huskily.

Charlie looked at him, confused. "Why?"

His lips curled into a faint smile as he brushed a strand of wet hair from her face. "Because you're sitting here in nothing but a towel. I don't want to cross the line, love."

Charlie flushed.

"What do you mean?"

He inhaled and exhaled hard through his nose. He cleared his throat and continued, "Do you remember that night? You snopped into my drawer and found my handcuff and a rope?"

Her cheeks burned, a quite resolve settled in her chest.

"What if I want you to do it?"

He stared at her. His eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her stay still.

"Charlie," he started, but she cut him off.

"Tell me," she said softly. "What if you want too?"

He stared at her, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her freeze.

"I can't do it to you, love."

"Why?" she asked softly. "What if I'm ready?"

John exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he sat back against the couch. His arms slipped from her waist, and his hands rested on his thighs as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"No," he said it straight. "Even if you think you're ready, I won't do it."

Her heart sank at his words, and a frown tugged at her lips. "Why not?"

His jaw tightened, and he leaned forward to her again. "Because I'm not going to push you to appease me."

She slid off his lap and stood in front of him. "You said that you would do it if I give you a word. Right?"

John hunched forward, his hands clasped together as he looked up at her. "I did, but not with these objects you've found. I don't want to do it on you. You're too soft and can break easy."

She blinked a few times before her eyes narrowed. "So, you won't do it because I'm easy to break?"

"Yes," John said sternly. "I know what this means and what it could lead to. You don't rush into something like this without being absolutely sure."

Her frown deepened as she raised her voice. "Oh, I'm sure. You don't have to treat me like a kid who doesn't know what she wants."

"I'm not treating you like a kid," he said in his icy tone. "I'm treating you like someone I care about—a hell of a lot. And I care enough to not let things go far before you're ready. What if you regret it later? I don't want to hurt you, Charlie. The things in that drawer are not for you. That's not how I see you, or how I want you to see me.

"But I like you!" Charlie snapped.

"Yeah? But do you mean it?" He frowned in return.

Charlie clenched her fists, her chest tightening as frustration bubbled over. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you want me one hundred percent, Charlotte?" John pointed out. "Because I don't want you to please me against your will."

"Well, what if I want too, Johnathan? I like you and I love you!" She half-screamed at him.

John looked at her. His eyes searched her face, as if trying to discern whether she meant what she said, and not a fluke.

"You have three weeks left before you leave to God knows where! I heard you were talking about stopping Michael," She paused, her chest heaving while her face slowly turn red, and she continued. "You've done so much for me that I don't know what else to give back. You want me? Here I am! You want to fuck me? Take me! I don't care! I want all of you!"

He was speechless. His sharp gaze softened as he noticed her struggle to control her emotions.

She looked away, blinking repeatedly to keep the tears from falling, before looking back at him. "I don't know why you act like you know what's best for me... but you don't. I have known you for like... what? Four weeks and we're crazy about each other to where I can't imagine going through life without you. I'm crazy, right?"

"Charlie—" He sat forward, his voice gentler now.

She cut him off, turning on her heel to walk away.

"Forget what I said," she said, her voice wavering as she started toward the hallway.

John stood quickly, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he caught up to her. "Charlotte."

She didn't stop; her steps quickened as she reached the guest bedroom door.

"Don't you walk away from me," he said again, his voice sharp this time, carrying a warning.

Her hand shot out to twist the knob, but his footsteps were heavy behind her, and before she knew it, he was right there. She turned, her wet hair sticking to her face as she glared at him.

"Or else what!"

"We're not leaving this unresolved," he said firmly, standing tall and imposing in the doorway as she entered the room.

"Leave me alone!" she snapped, slamming the door in his face.

The sound echoed through the quiet flat. She locked it quickly, her hands trembling as she leaned against the door. Her chest heaved as she fought to calm her breathing. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She heard him growl in frustration on the other side of the door. His fists hit the wood couple of times—not hard, but enough to make her jump.

"Open the door," he demanded, his voice rough, teetering between anger and control.

"Just go away!" she shouted back. "You don't get to decide what I feel or want!"

There was silence for a moment, and his voice came, low and dangerous.

"You're right. I don't. But I'll tell you this, and you better listen—" he paused, his tone hardening. "I won't let you please me until you marry me."

The words hit her like a freight train. Her heart slammed against her ribs as her brain struggled to process what he'd just said.

"Wh-what?" she asked through the door.

"You heard me," he barked.

Her knees wobbled, and she slowly slid down the door until she sat on the floor. Her mind reeled. Was he serious? Did he mean it?

"John," she called softly, pressing her forehead against the door. "Are you joking?"

There was no answer, and her heart raced as she waited. Until he finally spoke firmly.

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

She gulped. Gathering her courage, her hand trembled as she reached for the lock. After unlocking the door, she cracked it open. John stood outside, and his eyes told her everything. They burned with intensity as they locked onto hers.

"Say it again," she whispered, needing confirmation.

"I said," he growled. "I won't let you please me until you're my wife."

Her lips parted in shock, her cheeks flushing as his words settled into her chest.

Before she could respond, John quickly closed the distance between them, his movements fluid and confident. He cradled her face in his large, warm hands, his thumb brushing softly across her cheek as he leaned in. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, one that was both demanding and tender, igniting a fire within her that left her completely breathless.

Caught off guard, she gasped lightly against his mouth, her heart racing with unexpected emotion. In that moment, she instinctively wrapped her fingers around his forearms, feeling the strength and warmth beneath his skin. With a gentle push, he opened the door and stepped inside, pulling her into the intimate space awaiting them. The sheer intensity and raw passion of his kiss left her breathless, her thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind.

It was a moment so electrifying that she struggled to catch her breath, savoring the heat that radiated between them. Before she could process the whirlwind of emotions cascading through her, he tenderly gathered her into his strong arms. His grip was both possessive and gentle, making her feel cherished as he carried her toward the bed.

"Mhm, John!" she squeaked, a blend of surprise and delight punctuating her voice, but he remained silent. His focus was entirely on her as he gently placed her on the mattress.

The kiss had broken, but the intensity in his eyes burned brightly as he positioned himself just above her, their faces inches apart. His hands gripped the edges of the towel wrapped around her, his touch firm but hesitant, as if contemplating the next move.

Instead of removing the towel, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting softly against hers. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, contrasting with her own rising heartbeat. His breath came out in heavy, uneven bursts, each exhale mingling with the charged air between them.

The unspoken tension hung thick, both aware of the fragile boundary that separated desire from restraint.

"If you want me, then you're the one I need for what I want," he said, his voice low and rough.

Her heart swelled, and tears threatened to spill.

She reached up, her fingers trembling slightly as they cupped his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.

When John leaned in and kissed her again, it was different this time—more tender and deliberate, as if the world around them had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of intimacy.

As he pulled away, his hot breath lingered over her lips, each exhaling a gentle reminder of the connection they shared. He closed his eyes, struggling to rein himself, which roared like a storm inside him, threatening to sweep him away.

His large and calloused hands moved slowly, caressing her cheeks with a reverence that spoke volumes. His thumbs brushed away the stray tears that traced paths down her flushed cheeks, leaving her both cherished and exposed in the moment's fragile beauty.

"From the moment we met, I wanted you." He whispered, his voice hoarse. "Not just for one night stand. I wanted to keep you. I want your smile, your voice, your laugh, your body, your heart and the way you make me feel like there's more to life than flying bullets."

Her lips parted as she stared at him, unable to speak or move. The raw vulnerability in his tone held her captive.

"I've spent years thinking I wouldn't get somethin' good the more I grow older," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you make me want more. And that scares the hell outta me."

Another tear slipped from her eye, and he caught it with his thumb. She shut her eyes tight.

His lips quirked into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile as he kissed her forehead, her closed eyelids, and then her lips.

"I want you," he whispered against her lips, as if he had been holding back those words for a long time.

Her eyes opened to meet his. She didn't appear shocked but was at a loss for words. Tears filled her eyes, spilling over as a soft gasp escaped her lips, accompanied by a trembling smile.

"Do you?" she breathed. She wasn't questioning his love—she was trying to understand why a man like him would feel this way about her.

"Yes, you're my home," John said huskily, with tender hints in his eyes. "I prayed you'd want me as much as I want to do many things to you and with you."

Her heart swelled as she sniffed and sobbed. The vulnerability in his voice and the steady grip of his hands cupping her cheeks spoke louder than words.

She reached up, cupping his face as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I want that too."

John tilted her chin upward, his eyes searching hers for a fleeting moment before leaning in.

Their lips met in a fervent kiss, an explosion of passion that left no room for hesitation. It was wild and unrestrained, every instinct driving him to convey the depth of his feelings. The urgency behind the kiss was palpable, as if he were trying to pour all the unsaid words and pent-up emotions into that single moment. He could feel her breath mingling with his, a sweet mingling of warmth and longing that ignited something deep within him. It was a kiss filled with desperation, an outpouring of everything he had kept bottled up, expressing a connection that went far beyond the surface.

Her fingers tangled in his beard as she returned the kiss passionately. Feeling his weight pressing against her, she nearly moaned until he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers once more. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his hands still cradling her face.

"I'll give you everything," he repeated, this time with a raspy tone. "You'll have my heart, mind, soul. I'll even step down if that's what it takes for you to find peace. You won't have to worry about when I'll ever come home."

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "John... no. Don't say that."

His brows furrowed as he searched her face. "Why?"

"I don't want you to sacrifice your role for me," she said, her emotions swirling into a storm she couldn't contain. "Your team needs you. I... I can't be the reason you step down."

John gave a low chuckle. His lips curled into a small smile despite the heaviness in his chest.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, "I'd rather put down my rifle and just live. Even if I have no idea what else to do besides being a weapon."

Her lips parted. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend what he was saying.

"I've given up everything," he continued his tone steady but laced with a raw honesty that made her heartache. "I've dedicated years filled with blood and sweat. I've buried soldiers and lost parts of myself that I can never get back. And then you came along. You gave me one thing to return to."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she shook her head.

"But what if you miss it?" she said, her voice trembling. "I don't want you to resent me..."

"Never," he interrupted her, his voice resolute. "I would never resent you. But I never knew that time would come to this when I'll have to choose between you and my duty..." He paused, his eyes softening as he kissed her gently. "I would lay down my life for you. I will choose you every day. A thousand times over."

Her tears flowed freely now as her heart swelled with love, fear, and everything in between.

"Say you believe me," he said.

Her lips trembled as she nodded, her hands gripping his wrists tightly.

"I believe you," she repeated his word.

He exhaled deeply, the warm breath brushing against her cheeks as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Charlie closed her eyes and felt a rush of warmth flood through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers tangled softly in the hair at the nape while pulling him closer as if she could melt into him. Burying her face against his solid chest, she inhaled the scent of him—an intoxicating blend of musky cologne and something uniquely him.

Lying beside her, he cradled her with a protective gentleness, his body radiating warmth that enveloped her like a soft blanket. He could feel her heartbeat mingling with his own, a steady and reassuring rhythm that pulsed beneath her ear. It soothed her.

"Don't step down," she murmured to him. "Not yet."

John leaned back slightly to lift her chin, meeting her gaze. "We'll figure it out. Together, aye? But when I take your hand, there's no turning back."

She gazed at him, her heart full as she said, "I love you."

He leaned down and kissed her softly.

"I know," he murmured against her lips.

His fingers flexing against the fabric of her towel as if debating whether to grant himself permission. The air between them crackled, thick with tension, yet neither of them moved to break it. She had never seen him like this—his restraint fraying at the edges, his resolve faltering beneath the weight of something deeper than lust.

"Please," she whispered. Her voice barely above a breath, yet it carried the yearning inside of her.

His grip on the towel tightened until he pulled the knot loose. The fabric slackened, sliding against her skin before pooling around her on the mattress. He held his breath, his eyes traced the curves of her body. Her face heated, but before she could shrink away, John cupped her chin, tilting her head back so their eyes met. His thumb brushed along her bottom lip, his touch featherlight, but the weight of his gaze burned into her.

Lowering his face to her forehead, he kissed it. His fingers trailed down, skimming the line of her collarbone before tracing the curve of her waist.

Her breath hitched as his touch explored her. The contrast of his calloused hands against her soft skin sent a jolt of heat pooling deep in her belly. Taking his time, his fingertips mapped her out as though he was memorizing every inch of her body. His lips followed the path of his fingers, placing kisses across her shoulder, down to the hollow of her throat. Charlie trembled beneath him. Her hands gripped his arms tight, making her nails dig into the fabric of his shirt.

"Stay still," he murmured, teasingly dragging his lips lower.

She squirmed beneath him, frustration bubbling in her chest as he continued his slow torment.

When his lips traced the dip of her stomach, his large hand spreading possessively over her lower abdomen, where a small, soft swell resided. He loved this—her softness, including her belly. The way she was thick in all the right places, lean yet delicate. She was breathtaking. His lips followed his hand, placing an open-mouthed kiss just above her navel before shifting lower. Charlie let out a shaky breath, her fingers threading into his short-cropped hair.

"John..."

He smirked against her skin, his beard scraping deliciously as he trailed further down.

He was teasing her now, playing a slow, torturous game.

Judging by the way her body arched toward him, she wanted this.

When his fingers slid down, teasing below her inner thigh. He hovered there, watching her face, waiting—until she gasped, her back bowing with her eyes closed, allowing her body betraying the need she could no longer hold back.

"That's it," he grinned, rewarding her surrender with his finger stroking her sex, before adding another.

Charlie writhed beneath him, and her fingers clutching at the sheets as a shudder ran through her.

"I..."

"Shh," he hushed her softly before kissing her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts, savoring every reaction. He took his time tasting, licking, and sucking each of her breasts and the nipples—as they became hardened. It hardened his groin since he was tasting parts of her.

She was stunning, undone and vulnerable beneath his touch, and it made his chest tighten. He let go of her breast and looked at her.

"There's my girl," he said huskily with admiration.

Her breath hitched as his touch grew more purposeful, his fingers skillfully drawing her closer to the edge. He knew every response—every quiver, every hitched breath, every sweet gasp—as if she were made for him. He kept her there, at the precipice, teasing her with the slow drag of his fingers until he pick up the pace, savoring the way she trembled beneath him.

"Ah—" her voice broke, allowing her body to tense. She tilted her head back as she gave in to the overwhelming sensation building inside her.

"Yes," he praised her and his lips ghosting against her temple. While his free hand tangled with hers as he continued his tormenting rhythm. He wanted her to let go, to fall apart completely in his arms, to trust him with every piece of herself.

Charlie gasped, her back arching as pleasure overtook her. A soft cry escaping her lips as she reached her peak. Rolling her eyes open and then shut again, John held her through it, watching in awe as she surrendered him. He grunted as her finger nails clenched around his forearm, feeling the slight pain punctured into his skin—but he loved it, listening to her breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

Mine.

She's mine!

She barely had time to catch her breath before he shifted, his lips trailing lower, savoring the remnants of her release.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled from his chest, and he pressed a final kiss against her trembling abdomen before moving back up, capturing her lips in a white-hot kiss. Charlie whimpered against his mouth, still dazed, still lost in the aftershocks of his touch. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, stealing her breath, as if he could never get enough of her. And maybe he never would.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over the flushed skin as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Mine," he growled, the possessiveness in his tone sending another shiver through her. "No exceptions."

She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at him, her heart pounding.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice hoarse but certain while her fingers sliding through his short-cropped hair.

A slow smile tugged at his lips before he kissed her again, like he had sealed a promise.