Page 118 of Fractured Allegiance
Or maybe I do, I just don’t want to admit it just yet.
I’m supposed to go to the Bureau post. Return Naomi’s call, check in. At least, pretend I'm still in control of this operation.
Instead, I'm standing outside Lydia's building, staring up at her window like a man who's already made his choice and just hasn't admitted it yet.
I head inside.
Two floors up. The stairs feel shorter this time.
When I reach her door, I knock twice.
A pause. Then the locks slide back.
She opens the door in an oversized shirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, hair tied up loosely. No performance. Just her.
She steps aside, letting me in.
The door closes behind me. The lock clicks.
She doesn't ask about the third party or the note or any of the tactical reasons I could be here.
She just looks at me, waiting.
"I traced the access logs," I say. "Whoever's in the system is good. Better than good. Every lead loops back on itself."
"So we're no closer to knowing who sent the note."
"No."
She nods slowly, processing. Then: "And my message?"
I meet her eyes. "Why you? Because I can't hold myself back from you, no matter how hard I try."
Her breath catches—just slightly.
"That's not tactical," she says quietly.
"No. It's not."
She takes a step closer. Then another.
Until she's right in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin.
Her hands come up to my chest, resting there, feeling my heartbeat hammer against her palms.
And then we’re kissing.
Hard. Messy. Uncoordinated at first.
Like we both forgot how to ask.
She pulls me down, and I let her, hands already under her shirt, mouth dragging along her throat like I’m marking territory I shouldn’t be near.
Her breath stutters.
Mine breaks.
Clothes shift. A button snaps. My hands shake when I push the fabric aside and press her bare spine to the hardwood floor.
