A slow and steady pulse.
FOURTEEN
CLAIM THIS
LARK
I barely make it to the table before Knight’s hand closes around my wrist.
Not hard.
Not rough.
But sure.
“Hey,” I start, half turning, ready with some smart remark about Helios and feelings and productivity hacks.
He doesn’t give me the chance.
He tugs—not enough to jerk, just enough to spin me back toward him, momentum sending me straight into his chest.
My hands splay against the front of his shirt.
His eyes are darker than they were thirty seconds ago.
“Knight?” I breathe.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “We’re not… we’re not pretending we’re focused on packet logs right now, Birdie.”
My heart stutters.
He’s close enough that I can see the tiny golden ring around his pupils, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his mouth is already a little parted like he’s halfway between words and kiss.
“I mean, we could multitask,” I manage. “Solve crime, make out, very efficient?—”
He kisses me before I can finish the sentence.
It’s not tentative this time.
It’s not even careful.
It’s like he’s been bracing against a tide and finally lets go.
His mouth crashes into mine, and the whole world narrows to heat and pressure and the way my knees threaten to give out. One hand slides up my spine, fingers spanning the back of my neck, keeping me there. The other finds my hip, anchoring me against him.
I make a sound in the back of my throat that is not dignified and also completely out of my control.
He swallows it like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.
My fingers bunch in his shirt, pulling him closer when there’s nowhere left to go. His chest is solid under my palms, warm and absolutely, infuriatinglyreal. The kiss deepens, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, and I open for him without thinking, greedier than I should be, hungrier than I want to admit.
All the tension of the last few days—fear and adrenaline and unsaid want—funnels into this.
Into us.
Into the way he kisses me like he’s memorizing me cell by cell.
He breaks away only when breathing becomes non-optional, resting his forehead against mine, both of us panting.
