Just controlled heat.
“You deserve to be rewarded for that,” I murmur.
He huffs a breathless laugh. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
My hands slide to his waist, pulling him flush against me. He melts into the contact immediately, fingers gripping the back of my neck now, tugging me closer.
We kiss again. My tongue sliding against his, making his knees weak.
His mouth softens under mine, and I feel the last of the meeting’s tension bleed out of both of us. No enemies. No negotiations. No legacy hanging over our heads.
Just this.
His back presses against the cool mirror. My hand slides along his side, over the line of his ribs, up to cradle the back of his head.
“You were fearless,” I murmur.
“I was angry,” he admits softly.
“It was sexy.” I go to unbutton his shirt.
He laughs against my mouth, slapping my hands away. “You’re terrible.”
“I know.”
His fingers trace the line of my collarbone, then slip under my jacket. Not searching. Just feeling.
“I meant what I said,” he whispers.
“I know.”
I kiss him again, slower now, savoring the way he responds to me. The way he leans into my touch like it’s chosen, not demanded.
When I finally pull back, his lips are flushed. His breathing uneven.
I brush my thumb along his cheek.
“You don’t ever have to prove yourself like that again,” I tell him quietly.
“I wasn’t proving myself,” he says. “I was protecting you.”
The admission settles deep. I rest my forehead against his.
“Careful,” I murmur. “You’re going to make me soft.”
He smiles faintly. “You already are.”
“That’s our secret.”
I study him for a long moment, then I release him and press the button again.
The elevator hums back to life. We straighten instinctively. Adjust clothing. Smooth edges.
By the time the doors open on the ground floor, we look composed again.
Johnny stands waiting, pretending not to notice anything. We walk past him without comment.
