“Hey. Zoe just left.” She studies me, her expression shifts from relaxed to concerned. “What happened?”
“Dylan quit.”
She slips into the study. “Your assistant?”
“Former assistant. Former spy.” I set my phone down. “He was feeding information about me to someone. I knew about it for weeks, was using him to pass along false intel. Just found out whoever he was reporting to has been asking about you.”
Her face pales. “Me? Why would anyone?—“
“I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out.”
She crosses the room slowly, stops in front of my chair.
“You're not okay,” she says softly.
“No. I'm not.”
“Kai...” She reaches out, fingers brushing my jaw. “What do you need?”
I look up at her. Lips pink and slightly parted. Eyes wide as she cautiously touches me.
“You,” I admit. “I just need you.”
Her neck and cheeks flush at my words. I hope I haven't scared her. I breathe deeply when she steps closer, between my knees, and leans down.
Her lips brush mine. Soft. Tentative.
She smells like citrus and something floral. The scent I've come to associate with home. Her mouth is warm, yielding. I answer by pulling her closer.
She comes willingly, hands finding my shoulders, my neck, threading into my hair. I've been holding back for weeks. Months. Telling myself to be patient, to do this right, to not rush something that matters this much.
But she came to me. She's choosing this.
The kiss deepens. She tastes like the wine she shared with Zoe. Something sweet underneath. I pull her down onto my lap and she comes easily, knees bracketing my hips, weight settling against me.
Mine, something primal whispers.Finally mine.
“Kai,” she breathes against my mouth.
“Tell me to stop.” My hands slide under her shirt, finding warm skin. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
“Don't stop.” She kisses me again, harder. “I'm done holding back.”
Heat floods through me. A shiver runs down my spine as she presses closer, body flush against mine. Every rational thought dissolves. All the restraint, all the careful distance, gone.
I stand, lift her with me. Her legs wrap around my waist. My ankle protests but I don't care. I carry her to the bedroom, kick the door shut behind us.
We fall onto the bed together. She laughs as I struggle with the boot, the cast making everything awkward.
“Very smooth,” she teases.
“I'm working with a handicap here.”
“Excuses, excuses.”
I shut her up with another kiss. My hands find the hem of her shirt. She helps me pull it over her head. For a moment I just look at her, spread across my sheets in the dim light, and I forget how to breathe.
“You're staring,” she says.
