Page 77 of End Game

“Bad cop is always the most fun.”

“A-ash.”

“I’ll ask some questions.”

“I want to be there when you do.”

“Or?”

Kayla folded her arms. “I’ll have to do some sleuthing without you.”

“Don’t you have a job of your own to do?”

“I have an amazing team who can pick up any slack I might leave behind. Thanks for your concern.”

On a long, aggrieved sigh, he draped an elbow over the sofa’s arm and snaked a hand across the low back. The relaxed position stretched his white dress shirt taut over his broad chest and flat stomach. His right foot rested on the floor, while his left leg lay at an angle on the cushion separating them. Dark stubble covered the lower part of his face and finger tunnels rumpled his thick, black hair.

She’d never seen him look so at ease, so comfortable, so delicious. A tingling sensation stirred between her legs, and she squeezed her knees together to keep her arousal at a low simmer. But she could do nothing about her thundering heart.

As if sensing her biological shift, his eyes hyper-focused, and she got the distinct impression he was trying to visually drill into her brain and pick out her erotic thoughts.

The one moment she needed it most, her lobbyist mask failed her, disintegrating beneath his intense scrutiny, exposing the rawness of her need.

“It occurs to me,” he said as his gaze lowered to her mouth, “that I owe you a kiss.”

Kayla pressed her knees together so hard her bones stabbed each other. “Oh?”

She recalled his quick kiss of reassurance before they’d been forced to sprint across an open area, exposing them to the shooter’s sights and her ridiculous comeback of getting another kiss if they survived. Even though he’d displayed confidence and an odd combination of calm urgency, she’d sensed the terror lurking beneath. Terror for her.

The realization had made her want to soothe his fear, let him know she trusted him with her life. She’d spoken spontaneously, honestly, and received the smile she’d been hoping for.

It was then her attraction to him shifted, deepened, transformed into something her heart recognized but her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge.

Until now.

She’d fallen for a man who reviled her profession, a calling that had fed her soul for most of her adult life. An insurmountable obstacle for any relationship.

Like a tiger rising from an afternoon nap, Ash pushed away from his den and leaned toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. The tip of his index finger traced an invisible line down the center of the cushion separating them.

“Meet me, Kayla.”

Halfway.

The unspoken word tugged at her, as if he’d attached a string to her chest and pulled it taut.

Before she knew it, they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead. She drew strength from his warmth, the hard breaths he tried to control.

“I won’t give up lobbying,” she warned.

“I won’t ask you to.”

His promise whispered against her lips a moment before he fulfilled his promise.

37

Ash was in big, fucking trouble.

This revelation came to him a nanosecond too late. But a battalion of semiautomatics pointed at his head couldn’t force him to reverse course.

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