“No?” I raised a brow. “I must have missed the part where you were here or included me in on your plans.”
“We had a plan,” he said slowly, repeating my words. “You executed it flawlessly.”
Tilting my head back, I kept my gaze on his.
“Would my being present have changed that in any way?”
"Don’t patronize me, Brewster,” I said, irritation feathering through my anger and cooling my tone by several degrees. “You left another agent in charge of my detail and disappeared without a word.”
“I had work to do and meetings to take,” he said, his expression turning grim even if his eyes seemed to grow even hotter. “I was advocating for you, just like I said I would.”
“Yay for you?” I deadpanned. “Cutting me out of the loop doesn’t say teamwork.”
“I trusted you to handle it,” he said, then raised his eyebrows. “Was I wrong to?”
“I’m not the one who disappeared.” The line snapped between us.
His hand finally settled—two fingers under my chin, lifting my face just enough to meet his eyes. Not rough. Not gentle. Precise.
“That,” he said quietly, “is you crossing into dangerous territory.”
“Is that a warning?” I asked, breath shallow.
His gaze dropped—to my mouth. Stayed there. “No,” he said. “That’s me already there.”
And then he kissed me.
It was a collision, pure and simple. His mouth slanted over mine, hot and demanding, bypassing polite exploration to go straight for the jugular. His grip on my jaw tightened, possessive and unyielding, as he licked his way into my mouth with a confidence that made my knees buckle. There was no asking, only taking—a hungry, sweeping invasion that tasted of frustration and a pent-up need so thick it choked the air between us. I gasped against him, the sound swallowed whole as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, his stubble burning a delicious, abrasive path against my skin.
The fire sparked.
My hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer until there was no space left, until I could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing against my breasts, the erratic thud of his heart matching my own. He groaned low in his throat, a dark, rough sound that vibrated straight through me, and the control he’d been clinging to fractured. His other hand clamped onto my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, pulling me flush against the ridge of his erection. He didn't try to hide it; he let me feel exactly what I was doing to him, rocking his hips forward in a slow, deliberate grind that made my head fall back.
The flames licked higher.
He didn't let me retreat. He followed me down, his mouth leaving mine to trail a scorching path along my jaw, his teeth scraping the sensitive cord of my neck. I was trembling, a fine sheen of sweat breaking over my skin as the heat inside me spiraled out of control. His hand slid from my hip to my waist, then up, his thumb brushing the underside of my breast in a tease that was maddeningly light compared to the bruising pressure of his mouth on my throat. I arched into him, a silent,desperate plea for more, for him to stop toying with me and finally touch me where I was aching, wet, and ready.
“You don’t get to disappear,” I managed to gasp out, my voice wrecked, “and then decide this.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes black with lust, his lips swollen and wet. “I’m not making a decision,” he growled, the sound scraping against my nerves. “I just did it.”
Then he kissed me again.
This time, it was an inferno. He devoured me, his tongue fucking into my mouth with a rhythm that made my thighs clench together. His hand abandoned my breast to slide down, cupping my ass and lifting me until my feet left the ground. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, the friction against my core sending a shockwave of pleasure through me that bordered on pain. He pinned me against the nearest surface, his hips driving into mine, hard and relentless. There was no finesse left, only the raw, primal urge to consume and be consumed. The air around us felt like it was burning, the oxygen thinning until I was dizzy, drunk on the taste of him and the sheer, overwhelming force of his desire.
I was burning alive.
Just as I reached the breaking point, ready to tear the clothes from his body and let him ruin me completely, he stopped.
He froze.
His mouth hovered a fraction of an inch from mine, his chest heaving against mine, his hand still gripping my ass like he never wanted to let go. The sudden absence of movement was jarring, the silence ringing in my ears louder than the roar of my own pulse.
His jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. “This,” he gritted out, his voice barely recognizable, “is me crossing it.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, trapped in the cage of his chest. “And this,” he continued, his voice cracking as he forced himself to ease me down, to step back and let the cool air rush in to blast my overheated skin, “is me stopping before we burn everything down.”
The distance was brutal, like a physical amputation, a sudden void where the pressure of him had been. I stood there, breath sawing in and out of my lungs, skin buzzing with a violent, electric aftermath, acutely aware of the phantom heat he’d left behind. My body was screaming for him to come back, a traitorous ache that made my knees weak.
