Page 6 of My Special Ops Neighbor
Yvette responded by pressing closer, needing more contact, more of him. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the cotton of his shirt, the accelerated beat of his heart. When her fingernails scraped lightly across his collarbone, he groaned deep in his throat. A sound that vibrated through her and throbbed between her thighs.
Backing her against his desk, he lifted her to sit on the edge. The position brought them to the same height, and Yvette instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him into the cradle of her thighs. The intimate contact made them both freeze for a heartbeat before he pressed closer with a sound that was half growl, half prayer.
"You're shaking," he murmured, his lips moving against her jaw as his hands smoothed up and down her sides.
"So are you," Yvette whispered back, and it was true. She could feel the fine tremor in his muscles, the barely leashed control in the way his hands gripped her hips like he was afraid she might disappear.
His mouth found the sensitive spot just below her ear, and Yvette arched against him with a gasp that seemed to echo in the room. He took advantage of her exposed throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck while his stubble scraped deliciously against her skin. Each touch sent shockwaves through her system, making her fingers dug into his shoulders.
"Vincent," she breathed, and the sound of his name on her lips seemed to drive him wild. She felt him smile against her skin when she shuddered in response to his touch.
When he lifted his head to look at her, his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. For a long moment they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with want and possibility.
Yvette could feel everything. The weight of his body between her thighs, the way his hands had moved to rest on her legs just above her knees, the scent of his soap mixed with adrenaline and pure male arousal. Her own body was responding in ways she hadn't felt in years, every nerve ending alive and singing.
"We should..." he started, the words coming out more like a caress than actual speech.
"Should what?" Yvette asked, her own voice breathless as her hands traced the strong line of his shoulders.
Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed her again, slower this time but no less intense. This kiss was different. Deeper, more intimate, like he was pouring everything he couldn't say into the connection between them. Yvette could taste the coffee he'd had earlier, could feel the slight tremor in his hands as they moved to frame her face.
When they finally broke apart, they were both panting like they'd run miles. His forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed as he struggled for control.
Then his expression changed. Sanity crept back in, reality reasserting itself. He stepped back abruptly, and Yvette immediately missed his presence.
"This is a mistake," he said, but his voice lacked conviction, and his eyes kept dropping to her mouth like he was already regretting the distance between them.
The sudden distance left Yvette feeling cold and exposed. "What?"
"You've been through hell tonight. Someone tried to kill you, your house is a crime scene, and you're stuck here because you have nowhere else to go." His jaw tightened. "The last thing you need is me taking advantage of that."
"You're not taking advantage—"
"I am." He turned away from her, putting more physical distance between them. "You're vulnerable, scared, and grateful that I saved your life. That's not the foundation for good decisions."
The words stung, even though part of Yvette recognized the truth in them. Was this just adrenaline and gratitude? The aftermath of violence and fear?
"So what, you're protecting me from myself now too?"
"I'm protecting you, period. That includes making sure I don't blur the lines between keeping you safe and..." He gestured vaguely at the space between them.
"And what?"
His steady stare met hers. "And wanting things I have no right to want."
The admission hung in the air between them, loaded with implications Yvette wasn't ready to examine.
"You know, in my line of work, I'm used to being the expert in the room," she said. "Financial forensics, digital investigation, pattern analysis. Those are my domains."
"I usually work alone too."
"This is going to take some getting used to."
"You should get some sleep," he said finally. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
Yvette slid off the desk, her legs unsteady. She wanted to argue, to tell him she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions about who she kissed and why. But the rational part of her brain acknowledged he might be right. Everything felt heightened, intense, colored by the violence of the evening.
"Guest room's all yours," he added, already turning back to his monitors. "I'll be keeping watch."
