Page 58 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
How close I came to taking what she offered so freely.
The admission twists in my gut. If that laptop alert hadn't interrupted us, if she'd kept looking at me with those dark eyes full of submission and trust... I don't know what would have happened. And that uncertainty is more dangerous than any enemy I've faced.
She shifts, a small sound escaping her lips, and I retreat before she can wake and find me watching her.
Heading back downstairs to the kitchen, I go through the motions of my routine. But instead of the usual single cup, I prepare two without conscious thought.
Water heated to 205 degrees. Beans ground for seventeen seconds. Two cups ready.
When did making coffee for her become automatic?
Light footsteps on the stairs announce her approach. Every nerve in my body lights up as she enters the kitchen, and I force myself not to turn around immediately.
"Hey." Her voice carries that sleep-rough rasp that sends electricity straight to my cock.
I face her, and my breath catches despite having seen her like this before. The sight of her in my shirt, the hem hitting mid-thigh, affects me even more now than it did the first time.
Her pink-streaked hair waves around her shoulders in complete disarray. Without makeup, she looks impossibly young and thoroughly rumpled from sleep.
And mine.
The thought hits before I can stop it, primitive and absolute.
I slide coffee across the counter with measured control. "You slept."
"Like the dead." She takes the cup, fingers brushing mine briefly. The contact sends fire up my arm. "Your bed is basically a sensory deprivation chamber. How do you function without white noise?"
"Training."
She perches on a barstool, crossing bare legs under her. The motion makes my shirt ride higher on her thighs, and I have to grip my cup tighter to keep from reaching for her.
"Right. Military sleep conditioning." Her eyes study my face over the coffee rim. "You look like you didn't sleep much, though."
Because I spent every hour replaying how she felt in my hands. The other time planning ways to eliminate anyone who might threaten her.
"I'm fine."
"Liar." She sets her cup down with a soft clink. "But I'll let it slide since you make excellent coffee."
We fall into silence, but it's charged. Weighted with everything that happened between us. Her gaze keeps flicking to my mouth, and the heat in her eyes makes my control fracture around the edges.
"That thing that happened between us..." She starts, then pauses, chewing her lip. "When you made me kneel? It was likesomeone turned off the noise in my head for the first time in years."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Every muscle in my body goes rigid as images flash through my mind - her on her knees, looking up at me with those trusting dark eyes, the way she melted under my command.
Blood rushes south so fast it makes me dizzy. My hands shake with the sudden, overwhelming urge to bend her over this kitchen island and show her exactly what effect that confession has on me.
Control. Maintain fucking control.
"Working parameters." I force the words out, voice rougher than intended. "We need to establish clear boundaries."
Her eyebrow arches. "Boundaries? After you had me on my knees calling you sir?"
The memory makes my cock throb painfully against my jeans. I turn away, ostensibly to refill my coffee, but really to hide the evidence of how completely she's destroying my composure.
"You're a civilian under protection. There are protocols."
"Protocols." She repeats the word like it tastes bitter. "Is that what stopped you from taking things further with me yesterday? Because it sure didn't stop you from kissing me that night at my apartment."
