“You were right,” I say, “about my being scared. Over losing you most of all. You always knew me better than anyone. Better than myself.” And then I verbalize what should never have required such hardships to utter: “I love you, Arie—with everything in me. I always have.” A tear slides down my check, trailed by another.

“Fen…” he says with a rasp. No words follow, but he moves a wisp of hair from my forehead and wipes my cheek with his thumb. The tenderness of his touch sends a flush over my skin. He bends slightly toward me as his hand cradles my face. He stills for an instant, our mouths just inches apart. I can barely breathe from the anticipation of his lips on mine. He’s leaning closer, when suddenly he flinches and looks toward the window.

It’s the sound of the all-clear signal.

The raid is over.

We sit unmoving through the solid alert. At its end, the silence between us expands, an invisible force pushing us apart. He withdraws his arm in an awkward motion. “You, uh…you should go. To keep safe.” He’s no longer meeting my eyes. “We’ll use the window to be cautious, with folks back outside.”

I struggle to respond as he stands. “Come on, then,” he says softly. I hesitate at his extended hand. Against the weight of my thoughts, heavy as cast iron, I accept and manage to rise.

Promptly releasing me, he turns to lead me to the bathroom. I gather myself enough to swipe the moisture from my face and tread in his wake. While there’s no time to untangle what just occurred, I do sense a lone surety: despite the outcome, I’ll never regret the truths I shared.

Arie grips my waist, preparing to lift me from behind. Same as before, I’m to open the window and scan the area before climbing out.

“You ready?” he says, and I nod.

And wait.

At his delay, I listen for an outside noise, a voice, a reason for caution.

But then his grasp on me tightens and he draws me against him. His head lowers to mine. “Damn it all,” he says, a murmur at my ear. The warmth of his breath seeps through my hair, sending blazing tingles over my neck and down my spine.

In his hold, unthinking, I rotate toward him, and all at once, we’re kissing—deep, raw, and hungry—a feverish longing taking over. His hand in is my hair, the other running down my side. With my chest pressed to his, I feel the pounding of his heart and the burden of the layers dividing us. Guided by his steps, we move into the main room while shedding our clothes, both each other’s and our own. The passioned frenzy soon delivers us to his bed, where skin passes over skin, as heated as our quickened breaths.

Until he stops.