I folded my arms across my chest as I studied the tension in his shoulders and how his breathing had quickened. He was furious, but there was something else under it, too, the pink tip of his tongue darting out to tastemeon his glossy spit-shined lips. I might not have wanted the kiss, but he tasted of me now.
He shoved me back again, then climbed into his vehicle and shut the door. I stood in the rain and watched his headlights flare to life, watched him sit behind the wheel for a second longer than necessary before pulling out.
Inside me, the feral edge resolved into something else.
I’d been studying Caleb for months.
I wanted to touch.
NINE
Caleb
The shower ran sohot it stung.
I stood under it longer than I needed to, water pounding the back of my neck, steam fogging the mirror in the small bathroom. I’d meant to take five minutes—wash, change, get to the Cave. Instead, I rested a hand on the tile, letting the warmth ease the stiffness in my shoulders.
Forty-eight hours of adrenaline and almost no sleep had become even more when I didn’t really leave in the middle of the night after the Novak kiss thing.
Neither had Novak, but he’d stayed out in his car for the longest time, staring at the building, until he’d come inside and now hovered close by.
I’d decided to stay around until Ezra and Seth caught up on some sleep, researching what I could on the bits they’d given me. Then I sat with them at the kitchen table for nearly an hour, mapping what they remembered of the Ridge while Mickey pretended not to listen from the doorway and Novak was just behind me. Fences. Dogs. Watch towers. The underground room. Every detail was another piece of something ugly I neededto dismantle. I’d finally gotten home, and my headshouldhave been full of what I could do next.
Instead, my focus kept sliding back to the parking lot in the early hours of this morning.
To Novak.
I’d spent the entire day trying not to think about him.
Which meant, obviously, that I could do nothingbutthink about him. For a second, I caught the look on his face before the kiss—not the control, not the calculation, but something quieter, almost uncertain—and it hit harder than anything else. Then the kiss itself had been an attack, not soft, but a physical mark he’d left on me.
So now, I couldn’t get him out of my head.
I’d dealt with dangerous men my entire career. The problem was that some part of me wanted to understand Novak and discover what made him tick. Why did he stare at me? What did he want from me? I was curt with him, rude, dismissive, but for some reason he gravitated my way.
Only last week we’d run a simple infiltration op. No blood, no bodies, just getting inside a corporate office after hours so I could place two bugs and mirror a server. Novak wasn’t even assigned to that part of the job. His role was perimeter security with Killian.
Except when I headed inside, he was there, too.
Not interfering but not helping either.
I’d caught him twice in the reflection of the glass walls while I worked, standing back in the shadows with that same fixed attention he always seemed to give me. When Id’ finished and headed out, he’d fallen in behind me without a word, escorting me back through the building like some silent, heavily armed chaperone.
And when we’d reached the street, and I peeled off toward the van, he followed me there, too.
Didn’t speak or explain, and I’d been so damn aware of him in all the best and worst ways.
I dragged a hand over my face, water streaming off my chin.
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath.
I shoved my wet hair out of my eyes and braced both hands on the wall. The tile was slick beneath my palms.
The problem wasn’t the kiss.
The problem was the way my brain kept replaying the seconds before it—the way he’d stepped in close, and the words.
“No one else touches you.”
