She turns back toward me and I feel her gaze sweep over me again, lingering on my bare chest and the towel slung low around my hips. Or maybe she’s checking out my many, many marks and tattoos.
I take a step closer, testing her reactions, crowding her space, pushing at that careful professional facade to see what lies underneath.
“Like what you see?”
To her credit, she holds her ground, raising her chin and looking me straight in the eyes, with something warm blooming in that unusual violet gaze.
Is it curiosity?
Women sometimes want a piece of what I do—the danger, the late nights, the sense that I’ve seen things they haven’t—until they actually see it. The way they flinch when I thrash in my sleep, the questions they ask about scars I can’t explain away, the confusion when I scan for every entrance and exit everywhere I go.
Broken.
I step so close to her, we bump chests, the press of her body against mine doing nothing to help my focus, and that’s when she finally decides to retreat a little, bumping into the desk behind her.
But she doesn’t cower, doesn’t look away.
Another point in her favor.
Her hand slowly reaches out to touch one of the tattoos on my chest as if she’s in a trance and simply can’t help herself.
Fuck, she’s even more tempting up close, her scent hitting me like a fist—something I’d normally track across a mile of open ground. I can hear her breathing quicken as the tension mounts between us.
When her skin brushes mine, I tense automatically. I don’t let many touch me. And definitely not when I’m this exposed.
Kallie quickly withdraws her hand, snapping out of the trance, but I grab her wrist before she can retreat fully.
“Don’t… stop.” My voice is rough, deep, weirdly shaky.
What is it about this woman that has Stark acting like a lunatic?
And why am I suddenly just as interested?
Her eyes widen, her delectable lips parting in surprise, but she doesn’t say anything. Shock gives way to something more confident, more dangerous in her gaze, and I see the exact moment she makes a decision.
I have a front-row seat to her expression changing, but I still don’t expect it when she grabs my neck with both hands and kisses me, hard and desperate.
My breath catches.
Wrong. This is so fucking wrong. I can feel the warning buzz of my runes against my skin, a silent alarm. I should be pulling intel, not her closer. She’s a lead connected to Stark, a means to an end.
Which means I should be thinking with my head.
Unfortunately she’s kissing me, and my head goes silent, any thoughts drowned out by the roar of blood in my ears.
Give me monsters, and I’ll make split-second decisions most people couldn’t dream of.
Give me a purple-gazed brunette, however? My training dissolves into static.
Useless.
My body forgets how to move for several seconds before my instincts finally take over and I kiss her back.
Hard.
One hand finds her waist, the other settling low on her back as I pull her against me.
Fuck.
