My heart skips a beat. Is he talking about me?
I take a small step back, bumping into the counter behind me. The kitchen suddenly feels too small, too quiet, too charged. Asher’s eyes follow the movement, and my breath catches when he takes a step closer.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice low, almost tender.
“I…” My words falter as he closes the distance between us. He’s not touching me, not yet, but the space between us is thin as a thread, ready to snap.
“Asher,” I whisper, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He tilts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me to stop.”
I should. I know I should. But I can’t. The last time I let someone get this close, it ended in pain and regret.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, like he can read my mind.
“Asher,” I whisper, but the way his name comes out sounds more like a plea than a warning.
“Mia,” he murmurs, his voice rough, like he’s holding back.
My breath catches as his hand brushes my arm, light as a whisper, before settling on my waist. His touch is warm, grounding.
I don’t stop him when he dips his head, his lips brushing mine. It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s giving me a chance to pull away. But I don’t. Instead, I tilt my head, pressing closer, and he takes it as permission. The kiss deepens, his other hand sliding up to cup my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek.
My hands find their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. When his tongue brushes against mine, a soft sound escapes me, and I feel him smile against my mouth. Thehand on my waist tightens slightly, pulling me closer, and I let him, melting into the heat of him.
“Asher,” I murmur against his lips, barely aware I’ve said his name until he pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are darker now, filled with something that makes my breath hitch.
I gasp when his lips leave mine to trail down my jaw, his stubble scratching deliciously against my skin. He moves lower, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below my ear, and I can’t stop the soft moan that escapes me. Heat pools low in my stomach, spreading through me like wildfire.
His hands move, too, sliding up my sides and over my waist, sending sparks racing through my veins. One hand brushes against the hem of my shirt, and I shiver at the contact, the anticipation of his touch almost too much to bear.
The oven timer blares, shrill and relentless, snapping us both back to reality.
We pull apart, both breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine as we try to catch our breath.
“I think the cookies are done,” he says finally, his voice rough, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
I let out a breathless laugh, my hands still clutching the counter behind me.
He steps back reluctantly, running a hand through his hair as he reaches for the oven mitts. I smooth down my shirt, trying to collect myself, but my lips are still tingling, my body still humming with the memory of his touch.
Zane strides in, his boots heavy against the old wooden floor. His expression is all business as he sets down a small device on the counter.
Asher and I exchange a glance. It’s a good thing he wasn’t here a few minutes ago.
“Movement two blocks south,” Zane says, crossing his arms. “Probably nothing, but I’ve got motion sensors set up just in case.”
Asher straightens from where he’s leaning against the counter. “The hospital’s security footage might tell us more,” Asher suggests. “If we can figure out who Jason’s been meeting?—"
“No.” My voice comes out shakier than I want, but the words are firm. Both men turn to look at me.
Zane frowns. “Why not? Every lead gets us closer to neutralizing him.”
I shake my head, the knot in my chest tightening. “Trust me, you don’t want to dig too deep into that. People who do...” My breath hitches as memories threaten to spill over. “They disappear.”
There’s a beat of silence. Zane exchanges a glance with Asher, his brow furrowing deeper. I can tell they want to press me for more, but I can’t do this. Not now.
“Mia,” Asher says softly, stepping closer, his voice a low contrast to Zane’s more tactical edge. “What aren’t you telling us?”
