Page 194 of Override

His eyes narrow slightly. I almost smile. Almost.

"But I'll take you," he continues. "And I'll make sure the microphone in that bathroom is always live."

My throat closes. "Always?"

"Always." His thumbs move gently over my cheeks. "If you whisper my name today, I'll hear you." A tear slides beneath one of his thumbs. "If you whisper it next week, I'll hear you." His eyes never leave mine. "Next month. Next year. It doesn't matter." My breath shudders. "If you want out again, Maeve, you say my name." His hands tighten slightly against my face. Not enough to hurt. Just enough for me to feel the promise in them. "And I'll come get you."

Something inside me gives way. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's loneliness. Maybe it's every moment over the last few months when I wished someone would see what was happening and tell me I wasn't imagining it.

I don't know. I don't think. I just move.

My hands catch the front of Keaton's shirt as I rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his.

For one heartbeat, he doesn't move.

Neither does the rest of the world.

Then I feel the sharp intake of his breath against my lips.

And I realize—I just kissed Taibhse.

Chapter 40

Keaton (Skee)

Maeve kisses me.

For the first second, that's the only information my brain manages to process.

Maeve. Is kissing. Me.

Her hands are curled into the front of my shirt, her body stretched toward mine as she balances on her toes, and her lips are warm and soft against my mouth.

I don't move. Not because I don't want to.

Because nothing has ever felt like this before, and apparently my brain has decided the appropriate response is complete system failure.

I've kissed women. Obviously. I've had girlfriends. I've had sex. I've done every normal thing adults do when they're attracted to each other, and not once has my brain simply stopped functioning because someone's mouth touched mine.

This isn't even a complicated kiss. She's barely moving. Her lips are pressed to mine while my hands are still cradling her face, and I'm standing here like I've never seen a woman before.

My pulse pounds once. Hard. Then again. I should probably do something. Kiss her back. Move my hands. Breathe. Anything.

But my mind, the same mind that can run multiple operations simultaneously while tracking cameras, communication channels, and team positions, offers absolutely nothing useful.

No analysis. No statistics. No questions. Just…Maeve.

The realization settles over me, and something strange happens.

I exhale.

Not the measured breathing I've taught myself to use when the tapping gets too fast or the counting won't stop.

Not the two deep breaths I take when everything inside my head starts running faster than I can control it.

A real breath.

The kind I don't have to think about.