“You slept sitting up on my couch. You don’t have to do anything.” He tries to reach past me. “Skylar!” My voice wobbles a little and he just chuckles, leaning against the counter while I wash the plates.
Amber and sandalwood thread through coffee and soap, Skylar watching the door without making it obvious, and I let myself move around him because he doesn’t try to take over the room. After I dry my hands, I reach for a paper bag from the drawer, not even really realizing what I’m doing.
A few slices of good bread go inside before a fig jam in a tiny jar, an apple from the bowl because Priya would know if I sent him away with only bread. I fold the bag closed and hold it out.
Skylar looks at it, then at me. “What’s this?”
“Lunch.” He hesitates and I sigh, a smile spreading across my lips. “I know you didn’t but take it as a thank you. And I know I made breakfast but that’s just standard after you slept over. So now...”
He takes the bag slowly, like he’s not used to being handed food without a reason he can file. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I walk him toward the door, Skylar grabbing his things off the couch. It isn’t until he’s standing inches away from me, his hand on the knob pulling the door open that I break the silence. “You can come back,” I say before I think better of it. “If you need somewhere quiet for case notes.Or if the station coffee gets aggressive. You don’t have to. I just mean… you can.”
Skylar’s face changes slowly, the humor easing out into desire. “Emrys.”
“I don’t know why I said that.”
My heartbeat kicks hard enough, my eyes dipping to his lips, falling on the crumb on his jaw, just below the corner of his mouth. My hand lifts to brush it off, Skylar stiffening beneath my touch. The crumb brushes away under my thumb, but my hand stays. His stubble is rough against my palm, and his scent warms so quickly the small entryway seems to fill with him.
The space between us closes, each inch disappearing between us until his mouth finds mine, or mine finds his. The kiss is brief, but real enough to knock every thought out of my head. His lips are warm, still for half a second, then barely moving against mine before we both remember the door is open and the hallway exists.
We break apart, my hand still near his jaw, and it takes me too long to lower it.
“I should go,” he says, voice low. He reaches for the doorknob, misses it once, then finds it. He steps into the hall and turns back like he means to say something official, but there is nothing official left on his face. “Lock the door behind me.”
“I will.”
“And call me if anything feels wrong.”
“Is that detective permission?”
His eyes drop to my mouth and come back up. “That’s me saying call.”
Then he leaves before either of us can make it harder.
I lock the door and stay there with my fingers on the deadbolt, my mouth still warm from his. I touch my fingers to my lips and let myself breathe around the truth sitting quietly in the room.
He is mine, isn’t he?
Skylar
Rourke Securities sits behind old brick and rain-streaked glass, understated from the street and less subtle once I’m inside. The lobby is quiet, controlled, and built by someone who knows where people look first. Reinforced reception desk, clean sight lines, cameras angled without being obvious. Badge access past the lobby. Smoked glass along the interior offices. No wasted movement from the two staff members who glance up when I come in, clock my badge, and do not ask me to explain myself in front of the room.
A tall Beta with calm eyes meets me before I reach reception. “Detective Grayson?”
“That’s me.”
“Sloane Vale.” He offers his hand, adding no extra performance to the shake. “Mr. Rourke is waiting in conference two.”
He turns and leads me through the secured door, and I follow him down a corridor where every camera is placed better than the ones in Emrys’ building. Kade Rourke is standing when I enter the conference room. He has one hand braced on the back of a chair, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his tattoos disappearing under black fabric. Cedar and whiskey reach me before he speaks, rough at the edges, and my body recognizes him with enough force that I close the door behind me a little harder than necessary.
Kade’s eyes move over me once. “How is Emrys?”
I set my folder on the table. “He slept. He ate this morning. He’s shaken, but steady enough to be annoyed when people fuss over him.”
Kade’s grip tightens on the chair back, then eases. “Good.”
“I’m leading with the thing you need.” I open the folder and slide the first page across the table, knowing full well I could have called him from my desk or even sent this information through his lawyer. “The protective order is being rescinded. The updated timeline doesn’t support the original charge, and the exterior footage does not support keeping you framed as the primary threat. Your lawyer should get formal notice once the paperwork is entered. If nothing stalls, you should be able to go home tomorrow.”
