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Kat shrugs, pouring me a glass of red wine. From the most expensive bottle in my collection, of course. “I figured you’d be just as hungry as me.”
While I worked, Kat pulled out all the stops. She dimmed the kitchen lights and set out candles. She even ordered the Chinese food she mentioned she was craving.
“Did Vladmir make it back okay?” she asks, handing me the wine glass.
With a nod, I take the offered glass.
She sighs with relief. “Thank God. Now, let’s sit down and eat, shall we? I’m famished.”
I do as she asks, and we eat in comfortable silence. Except for the soft jazz music she has playing as background noise. Now and then, my hand brushes hers as I reach for one of the takeout containers, and her eyes meet mine, as deep and blue as the ocean. She smiles, and it takes almost all that I have in me not to have her over the fucking kitchen island.
But her day has been incredibly challenging, and I don’t want her to be exhausted and emotionally drained if we take things in that direction again. Who am I fooling? When we do.
So I behave myself, even though it physically pains me to restrain myself at this point. I feel as if I’ve been mercilessly edging myself for days—constantly being brought to the brink of climax, just to be frustratingly brought back down to earth. Over and over again.
But as Kat smiles at me and plays with the fingers of my outstretched hand, I don’t even feel frustration. Unexplainably, I feel almost content.
It’s an unsettling thought, but Kat soothes me.
“Here,” I say with a weary sigh, reaching for the handgun tucked in the back of my pants. “I want you to have this.”
Curious, she glances at it, gasping in surprise when she identifies the object. She doesn’t immediately reach for it, looking at me with confusion.
“It’s untraceable,” I say. “Go on, take it.”
“Why?” she asks, still taken aback. Reluctantly, she grabs it, holding it carefully in her hands.
“I want you to have it. Do you know how to use it?”
Kat gives me an insulted look. “Of course I know how to use it. Just because I don’t like guns, it doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to use them.”
“Good,” I reply with a nod. Then, before I can think better of it, I add, “I meant what I said before, Kat. I’ll protect you with my life. My men will do the same. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’re never again in a position where a gun might be useful. But as you’ve pointed out, trouble seems to follow you disturbingly often. I don’t want you to rely on others for protection. Whatever I can do to make sure you’ll never feel helpless again, I’ll do it.”
Kat stares at me, her expression indecipherable. Then, without warning or preamble, her lips are on mine. Her kiss is hot and hard, and a groan escapes me as she wraps herself around me. As suddenly as it starts, it stops. The maddening woman untangles herself from me breathlessly.
“What was that for?” I ask her, confused and panting.
With a sigh, she says, “You have to stop doing stuff like that.”
Even more puzzled, I ask, “Like what?”
“Like that. Stop saying things that make me want to kiss you. Do you know how hard it is to control myself all the time when I’m around you twenty-four-seven? I’m so tired of resisting you.”
That shuts me up pretty quickly.
“Then, don’t.”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Shut up.”
“Come here and make me,” I dare her. I beg her.
“That’s probably a bad idea. Unless we’re ready to go all the way…”
Kat and I stare at each other for a long while. She stretches her hand to trace the edges of my lips slowly. I’m careful not to move a muscle. Too soon, she drops her hands. She shakes her head, and I sigh.
Too bad.
“A goodnight kiss, then,” I bargain.
