Page 103 of Ford

“Not a chance,” RJ said and hoped York saw her resolve in her eyes. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not leaving—someone I love to…tobleed outin the middle of an alley.York!”

Then York completely dismantled her by taking her face in his hands and touching his forehead to hers. “Please,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

She drew in her breath, caught it.

He leaned back, and despite the shadows, her eyes made out the texture of his gaze. Soft, worried…and that kiss he’d given her on the train rushed back to her. Needy, reaching out to her like a man who’d gone far too long without nourishment. She could still taste him, still feel his whiskers, rough and desperate against her skin.

Still feel the way he released the tight grip on himself, giving himself over to her for the smallest of moments.

Her voice broke free. “York—”

“You have to go,” he said, his voice roughened. “Your brother is right. If you stay here, the militia will find you. Our best chance of saving Kat is to get her medical help right away. The militia will drive us to the hospital, even if they have questions we can’t answer. And I have no doubt that the general will send men to protect her.”

“And what about you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not wanted for the murder attempt on General Stanislov’s life.”

She closed her eyes. Right. That. “I should have never come to Russia. Never thought I could be some sort of super agent. I’m just a glorified secretary, not Sydney Bristow. I not only got in over my head, but I got you—and Coco—hurt, and now you’re on the run—”

“I think you’re brave.”

She opened her eyes. He was staring at her, running his thumbs down her cheeks. “If you hadn’t tried to stop the assassination, the general would be dead. And who knows what political chaos the US would be in. It took guts to fly to a country you knew nothing about, follow a crazy lead—”

“And if you hadn’t been there, I’d be in the gulag right now.”

“They would have shot you long before that.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look like he was kidding.

She swallowed, and her eyes burned.

“Ruby. YouareSydney Bristow. Tough and resourceful and smart and…” He looked away, his jaw tightening. Took a breath, as if trying to rein in words. “You’re so beautiful it takes my breath away.”

Oh.

Then he looked back at her, and a tiny smile ran up the side of his mouth. “And you drive me completely crazy. If you would just listen to one thing I say—”

“I listen to all the things you say, York. Even if you don’t say them.” She touched his face.

His gaze fixed to hers. Then her heart broke into fragments as she lifted herself on her tiptoes and kissed him.

He drew in a breath, hesitating, then made a tiny sound, like something might be breaking free deep inside, and he wrapped his arms around her, catching her up. He pulled her close and kissed her, and his touch spoke of more than desire—of belonging and knowing. Deep and warm and the kind of kiss that drew her into the fabric of himself, as if trying to inhale her into his very bones.

His body trembled despite his strong arms, he tasted of the night, even a hint of blood, and she wondered briefly if she might be hurting him.

Then she was lost in the moment, in the dark, sweet chaos of York and all he’d been to her.

Don’t make me let you go.

He finally set her down, drew away from her, his eyes closed. Said nothing.

She put her hands on his chest, shaken by the hammering of his heart.

“I could find you when this is over,” he said as he lifted his head and found her eyes. “What do you think of that?”

“You could,” she said quietly.

“Okay. Then you’d better stay alive, Bristow.”