Page 76

14

Katherine's question hung in the air between us.

So, what are we going to do about it?

I looked at her sitting beside me, close enough to touch. Her blue eyes held mine, steady and sure. No hesitation. No doubt. Just Katherine, asking me to be brave enough to answer honestly. She was fucking amazing.

"I know what I should do." The words scraped out of my throat. "I should tell you this is a bad idea. That we need to wait until the case is over. That getting involved now is unprofessional and stupid and—" I cut myself off as her eyes twinkled.

"But?"

"But I can't stop thinking about you." The admission felt like stepping off a cliff. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you. When I'm working, I'm aware of exactly where you are in the room. This morning when you smiled at me, I forgot what I was saying mid-sentence."

Her lips curved. "I noticed."

"This isn't how I operate, Katherine. I'm controlled. Focused. I don't get distracted by—" I stopped myself again.

"By what? By women?" She leaned closer. "Code, I've been in this industry for fifteen years. I know what it looks like when someone wants something from me. When they're calculating angles, planning their next move." Her hand found mine on the table, tangling our fingers together. "That's not what I see when you look at me."

"What do you notice?"

"Someone who looks at me and sees me. Not Kit Lord the actress, not the brand, not the commodity. Just Katherine." Her voice dropped. "Someone who makes me feel safer than I've felt in years. Someone who kisses me like I'm precious and rare and worth protecting."

My chest tightened. "You are."

"Then stop overthinking this." She stood, still holding my hand, and pulled me to my feet. "We're both adults. We know what we're doing."

"Do we?"

"I do." She stepped into my space, close enough that I could feel her warmth. "The question is, do you want me enough to take the risk?"

Want her? I wanted her so badly my hands shook with it. I needed to pull her against me and never let go, to learn every sound she made, every way to make her gasp my name.

"Yes." The word came out rough. "God, yes."

She rose on her toes, reaching for a kiss, but not this time. This time I was going to start the kiss. I picked her up, and in six long strides we were at the threshold of her room. A couple more steps and I was laying her down as softly as a feather.

“I thought this only happened in movies,” she said solemnly. I looked in her eyes—there was no laughter, just want and need.

As I positioned myself beside her, she let out a negative mew and pulled me on top. I dipped in for a slow, deep kiss. Her mouth opened under mine and I tasted mint toothpaste and something sweet. Her hands slid up my chest, around my neck, fingers threading through my hair.

Her hands moved, gliding under my T-shirt. I continued to make love to her mouth, my hands holding her head, feeling the silk of her hair caressing my fingers.

Katherine’s soft hands edged higher along my back, then paused as she felt the first scar. She broke our kiss.

“What happened?”

"Shrapnel. Kabul, 2019."

She pushed me up. “I want to see.”

“There’s more,” I warned.

“I want to see everything. I want to see the man you are. The man who’s making love to me.”

Her eyes weren’t twinkling anymore, they were deep blue, staring as if they could see straight into my soul.

I helped her pull the shirt over my head. Her gaze traveled over my chest, the scars from Afghanistan and Iraq marking my skin like a roadmap of missions I couldn't talk about.