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Maggie had the foolish notion that as long as he held her, she'd be safe. She had never had safe. She had control. Or she would have as soon as she pulled herself together, repaired the damage.
"I'm fine...now," she whispered to the top button of Beau's shirt.
Beau barely heard her whisper, but the quiet words etched themselves on his heart all the same. He knew her eyes would write her need on his soul, but he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his anyway.
"Is it so terrible?" he asked softly, the backs of his fingers trailing along her neck.
She swallowed. "Wh-what?"
"Being this close to the enemy."
"Good. I'm glad." His gaze lingered on her soft, open mouth. "I don't kiss women who think I'm the bad guy."
Beau waited for his words to sink in, waited for Maggie to pull away. When she didn't, he lowered his lips to hers.