"Compromise," I agree.
"But if anything feels wrong?—"
"I'll tell you immediately."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He kisses me again, slower this time. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming and exploring with deliberate thoroughness that makes my knees weak. One hand cups the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, while the other settles at my lower back and pulls me flush against him.
Heat coils low in my belly. I can feel every hard line of him pressed against me, the solid wall of his chest, the rigid length of him against my hip. My hands slide up to grip his shoulders, needing the anchor as his mouth moves against mine with devastating precision.
He tastes like coffee and want. His teeth catch my lower lip, tugging gently before his tongue soothes the sting. The contrast sends electricity racing down my spine. I arch into him and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through both of us.
His hand at my back slides lower, fingers spreading wide over my hip, possessive and burning through the thin fabric of my scrubs. We're in an exam room at the hospital and I don't care. All that exists is his mouth on mine, his body against mine, the building pressure between us that promises everything we'll finish later.
When someone knocks on the exam room door, we break apart reluctantly.
"Dr. Abernathy?" A nurse's voice. "Your next patient is ready."
"Coming," I call back.
Thatcher's smile is wicked. "Later?"
"Definitely later."
8
GWEN
Evening comes quickly. Back at Thatcher's place, I settle on the couch with my laptop while he reviews files. Music murmurs in the background, comfortable silence stretching between us.
"I could get used to this," I say after a while.
He looks up. "Used to what?"
"Being here with you. It's starting to feel normal."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Definitely good."
His phone buzzes. He frowns at the screen, answers. "Caine."
I watch his expression tighten.
"Understood. We'll be ready." He ends the call, meets my eyes. "Garrison's vehicle was spotted on base a while ago. NCIS is moving to intercept."
Fear knifes through me. "She came back?"
"Looks like she's not running after all." He crosses to me, pulls me up from the couch. "We're staying here with the doors locked and security on alert. Rivera's team will handle the arrest."
"What if Briggs is with her?"
"Then they handle both of them." He wraps his arms around me. "You're safe here."
I want to believe that, want to trust that locked doors and increased patrols will be enough. But fear twists in my gut anyway.
