Page 36 of Matthew
He reached up, his hand slow and sure, brushing a strand of hair off her cheek. His knuckles lingered, and the touch was so gentle, it stole the breath right out of her lungs.
“I should’ve said this earlier,” he murmured, his eyes locked on hers. “You belong here. You’re part of this place, and it’s beautiful. And, Callie…” his voice trailed off as she blinked up at him. “You’re doing an amazing job.”
The truth of his words wrapped around her like a balm. Steady. Undeniable. Something she hadn’t realized she needed to hear.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she leaned in.
So did he.
Their lips met, a tiny brush at first. Soft. Uncertain. Testing the line they’d been toeing the past few days.
Then again, slower this time. Deeper. Her pulse tripped. His other hand lifted to settle at the nape of her neck as he angled his mouth to fit hers more fully. The thumb tracing her cheekbone anchored her to the moment.
Her free hand curled into the front of his shirt, gripping instinctively. He was solid beneath her fingers, warm and steady in a way that made her knees forget their job. The world fell away—no gravel crunch, no rustling leaves, no nagging fear about shipments or sabotage. Only the taste of him. The feel of him. The heat that surged between them like a current she hadn’t seen coming.
He pulled her closer, not roughly but deliberately, and the kiss deepened, no longer tentative. It was charged with something sharper. Hungrier. Her breath caught, and she felt him respond, the hitch in his own rhythm betraying that the calm, composed man had edges after all.
The strength in his arms. The way his mouth moved against hers, sure now, and dangerously good. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good. Not so fast. Not so consuming.
And yet—there it was.
His palm pressed flat to her back, and she melted into the contact before she could remind herself to be cautious. Her fingers fisted tighter into the fabric of his shirt.
She was falling.
And she didn’t even care.
A throat cleared, loudly enough to be polite, sharp enough to be effective.
They broke apart as if air had been knocked from them.
Callie stepped back instinctively, heart hammering. Her fingers were still curled in Matthew’s shirt. She let go quickly, like she was touching something too hot to hold.
Caspian stood a few yards away, arms crossed, sunglasses pushed up now as he raised one brow. “Well, I was gonna say Ididn’t find anything new, but clearly, I was looking in the wrong place.”
She opened her mouth then closed it, her face flaming.
Matthew didn’t say a word. He exhaled, slow and even, then bent to pick up the water bottle he’d dropped somewhere in the moment. His jaw flexed once, as if resetting every defense she’d just slipped past.
Caspian’s smirk softened. “Don’t worry, I’ll pretend I didn’t see it. For now.”
He turned and started walking toward the lot, tossing a comment over his shoulder. “We should probably regroup before Carter rolls in with the rest of his spy toys.”
Callie didn’t move.
Neither did Matthew.
Finally, she let out a breath and glanced up at him. “Well. That was—”
“Yeah.” His voice was low, rougher than usual. “It was.”
Neither of them said what it really was as the space between them still pulsed with the echo of what just happened. Soft, heated, a little reckless. Her lips tingled where his had been, and her fingers still recalled the feel of his shirt she’d clenched in her fists.
What the hell was that?
Her brain scrambled to keep up, her body though? Oh, her body already knew. It hadn’t been a mistake. It hadn’t been confusion or comfort or adrenaline.
It had beenreal.
