Better than okay.
Better than I'd been in years, maybe.
We kissed then. Slow and deep and unhurried and perfect. Like we had all the time in the world to explore each other when we definitely didn't. When danger was probably already planning its next move while we lay here pretending tomorrow was guaranteed.
When we finally broke apart, breathing slightly harder, I said, "I want to take a shower."
She raised an eyebrow, something playful and vulnerable flickering across her beautiful face. "Sick of me already?"
I laughed despite everything weighing on me. Despite the operational complications and tactical concerns. "That's an impossibility, Manhattan. Physically, emotionally, completely impossible."
I got up reluctantly, every instinct telling me to stay exactly where I was, leaving her in bed looking thoroughly satisfied and absolutely beautiful with her hair messy and lips swollen from kissing.
I walked to the bathroom, turned on the water, adjusted it until it was almost too hot.
Steam started filling the small space quickly.
I stepped under the spray, letting it pound against my shoulders and back and neck, trying desperately to reconcile what the actual fuck was going on in my head and heart.
Because they weren't aligned anymore.
They were actively fighting.
My head said this was dangerous. Reckless. Tactically unsound. That I should create distance before someone—beforeshe—got hurt because of my proximity.
My heart said something else entirely.
Something about how she felt right. About how I'd never wanted to protect something the way I wanted to protect her. About how the possibility of walking away felt worse than any physical pain I'd ever endured.
It didn't suck, this feeling.
This overwhelming want. This connection that had formed faster than anything I'd experienced.
But I needed a concrete plan.
Some way to keep her safe while not walking away from what we'd just started. What we'd just become to each other.
I wasn't technically supposed to leave The Sanctuary this morning at all. Connor had been very clear in that calm, measured tone that meant he was dead serious—staying put while they assessed the full scope of the St. Paul's threat was the smart tactical move. While Ellsworth gathered additional intel and established proper protection protocols.
And I was pretty damned sure no one had followed us to Étienne's apartment or back here.
I'd been watching. Constantly. Scanning every face, every vehicle, every person who appeared more than once. Old habits that never died no matter how distracted I was.
Then I remembered something that made me pause mid-reach for the shampoo.
Ellsworth had promised to layer security at Rose's apartment.
Surveillance. Protection. Discreet eyes on the building and surrounding streets.
Which meant by now Connor very much knew exactly where I was.
What I was doing.
Who I was with.
Probably how long I'd been here.
Fuck it.
