"I know." I don't move. Don't step back. Just stay there in the circle of his arms, memorizing the feel of him. "We're in the middle of an active threat situation. You're my protection detail. This is completely inappropriate."
"Completely." He presses a kiss to my forehead, gentle contrast to the intensity seconds ago. "And I don't care. But you deserve better than me losing focus because I'm too busy thinking about kissing you instead of identifying threats."
The practical assessment cuts through the haze of want. He's right. Someone cut my brake lines last night. Someone with military training and base access. Someone who wants me dead or silenced or both. This is the worst possible time to complicate things with a relationship.
But the way he's looking at me, the careful control fracturing to show the want underneath, makes it impossible to regret what just happened.
"Okay." I force myself to step back, immediately missing his warmth. "We stop. We stay professional. We focus on the investigation."
"Right." He doesn't look any happier about it than I feel. "Professional."
"At least until the threat is neutralized."
"Until you're safe." His eyes hold mine. "And then?"
"And then we figure out what this is." The promise settles between us, acknowledgment that this isn't ending, just pausing. "When we're not in the middle of people trying to kill me."
"Deal." He stands, the movement putting more distance between us. Smart. Necessary. Torture. "I should finish the weapon maintenance. You should try to get some sleep."
"You're sleeping in the other room."
"I'm in the other room." Agreement, but I hear the reluctance underneath. The same reluctance I feel about retreating to separate rooms when all I want is to curl up against his side and feel safe.
But safe is an illusion right now. And mixing personal feelings with active protection details is exactly how people get killed.
I nod, grab my laptop, and retreat to the bedroom before I can change my mind. Before I can suggest he sleep in my bed instead, consequences be damned.
The door closes behind me with a soft click. I lean against it, fingers pressed to my lips, still tasting him. Salt and coffee and hope. The laptop sits forgotten on the desk. Research data recovery can wait until tomorrow. Right now all I can think about is the way Holden Lange kissed me.
Not like it was his job. Not like I was an assignment. Like I mattered. Like protecting me is a choice he's making, not an order he's following.
I change into sleep clothes on autopilot, mind replaying the kiss in vivid detail. The way his hand felt cradling my face. The sound he made when I threaded my fingers through his hair. The careful control giving way to raw want that matched my own.
Outside, rain continues to batter the windows. Somewhere out there, someone with military training wants me dead. Someone who knows my routine, my weaknesses, my vulnerabilities. Someone who's systematically destroying my research and my life.
But lying here in the dark, those thoughts feel distant. Instead, gray eyes fill my mind. The steady presence of a man who brings me coffee without being asked and compromises instead of commanding. Strong hands that hold me like I'm valuable, not fragile.
How exhausted I am from carrying everything alone. How much I want to believe I don't have to anymore.
How much I want to kiss him again.
The admission should terrify me. After Bruce, after years of being afraid to trust anyone, I should be running from connection. Should be protecting myself with distance and walls and the safety of solitude.
Instead, lying here in temporary base housing, guarded by a SEAL who makes me feel things I buried under layers of self-protection after Bruce, I'm letting myself imagine a future that includes more than just survival.
Outside, the rain doesn't stop. The threat doesn't disappear. The investigation continues without clear answers.
But lying here in the dark, fingers still pressed to my lips, the threat feels secondary to what happened in that kitchen. Gray eyes and careful hands and the way Holden kissed me like I was a choice, not an assignment.
Tomorrow we'll be professional again. Tomorrow we'll focus on identifying who wants me dead.
Tonight, I let myself want something besides survival.
10
HOLDEN
Ikissed her. Now I can't unkiss her. And the worst part is, I don't want to.
