Page 222 of The Rules
"I'm okay," she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the water.
Ben didn’t answer.
He reached out, lifting her chin with the backs of his fingers—slowly, gently, like any sudden move might break them both. His touch was tender, careful. Nothing like the violence she'd seen him wield. And yet, it came from the same hands.
The same man.
He looked at her then—truly looked—like she was the last steady thing in a world tilting off its axis. Like touching her was the only way to remind himself he still knew how to feel at all.
His thumb traced the line of her chin, following the contours of her silence, asking a question without words.
There was no demand in his touch. No command. Just a quiet invitation hanging in the steam between them.
Katherine's breath caught in her throat as he leaned down, his eyes never leaving hers until the last moment when his lips finally met hers.
The softness of his kiss undid her completely.
It wasn't the consuming fire she'd expected from him. Not the raging heat that had always threatened to burn them both.
This was something else entirely—something warm and gentle that reached inside her chest and squeezed.
Just warmth. Just need. Just him.
Exhaled against his mouth, the sound shaky and uneven, as if her lungs had suddenly remembered their purpose. Her fingers trembled against his ribs, feeling the way his chest tightened beneath her touch.
His lips parted against hers—slow, searching. It was a sigh dressed as a kiss, a confession without words.
His fingers slid to the back of her neck, brushing wet strands of hair aside, cradling her head with a gentleness that made her heart ache. He didn't hold her in place. Didn't cage her. He was simply there, present in a way that left her room to choose.
And she chose him.
She leaned in, meeting him with everything she'd been holding back—the hunger, the ache, the desperate need that had been building between them. Not to take from him, but to be taken in. To be understood.
"Ben—" she whispered, his name barely more than breath against his lips.
It tasted like surrender on her tongue.
He kissed her again, deeper now but still unhurried.
His mouth moved against hers with deliberate slowness, like he was tracing her soul with his tongue. It was a tease, a promise, a wordless apology for everything that had come before.
And she melted into it, letting the water wash away everything but this moment.
Her fingers wound through his hair, wet and heavy, pulling him closer with a quiet urgency she couldn't contain. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she deepened the kiss, tasting him, breathing him in like she'd been drowning for years and he was her first gasp of air.
His skin was still damp from the shower, drops of water trailing down his chest in rivulets that Katherine wanted to chase with her fingertips, her mouth, her tongue. She couldn't stop touching him—couldn't bear to break contact even for a moment.
She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his collarbone.
The realness of him struck her—not the untouchable lawyer, not the controlled predator, just Ben. Flesh and blood and vulnerability beneath her touch.
He breathed harder, jaw tightening as he steadied her with his hands. His palms slid down her sides, leaving trails of heat in their wake, gripping her hips with a possession that made her shiver despite the warmth.
They stumbled out of the bathroom together, slick feet sliding against tile and hardwood, water dripping from their bodies in a slow, winding path across his immaculate floors. Katherine felt dizzy, intoxicated by the feel of him, the scent of him surrounding her.
She nearly slipped on the wet floor, a small gasp escaping her lips, but Ben caught her instantly. His arms locked around her thighs with a strength that made her breath hitch, his reflexes lightning-fast.
Then he lifted her.
