Page 27

Leo eased from the bed, gently disentangling Kat’s arm from his chest. She didn’t stir. Her breathing was even—her face softened in sleep in a way he’d never seen.

He pulled on gray sweatpants, the cool cotton a poor substitute for her warmth.

The duvet had fallen from her shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone, the contrast of dark hair against white sheets striking him hard in the chest.

His stomach growled, breaking the spell.

He wrenched himself away and padded barefoot toward the kitchen, although his thoughts stayed tangled in the bed behind him.

Last night had changed everything.

And then, after, they’d crashed into his bed, the stress and exhaustion of the evening giving way to something else. He’d fallen asleep with Kat locked in his arms, her body curved perfectly against his.

The soft morning glow of the London skyline filtered through the kitchen windows. Apricot and pink blushed the sky. He paused, one hand on the fridge door, taking in the delicate beauty of the morning sky.

No rain. How about that.

He opened the fridge. Cold white light spilled out, throwing sharp shadows across his bare chest. He blinked against it, the sudden chill pulling him back into his body.

His housekeeper, Inga, had arranged a delivery of essentials.

The refrigerator shelves were stacked with everything needed for a proper breakfast—yellow butter wrapped in silver foil, his favorite cloudberry jam, cherry tomatoes on the vine, pink ham folded in neat slices.

On the counter, wrapped in a brown paper bag, sat a crusty white loaf dusted with flour.

He gathered the items on the counter. His hands moved on autopilot while his mind strayed—the arch of her back, that breathless catch when he’d?—

Keep your head straight.

He reached for the bread knife as water for the coffee boiled. The compartmentalization that had kept him alive through countless missions was failing. For the first time in his operational life, he couldn’t separate the professional from the personal.

The line he’d drawn between duty and desire hadn’t just blurred—it had shattered beneath her fingertips.

The blade sliced through the crust with a satisfying crackle. He cut four even slices, then placed them on white plates he hadn’t used since purchasing them. His hands assembled the food while his mind circled back to her—always to her.

Kat.

He arranged the food on a wooden tray, adding a carafe of fresh coffee and two matching cups. Another item, never used.

He lifted the tray and headed toward the bedroom. He stopped at the threshold, tray balanced in his hands. From here, he could see her silhouette under the sheets, her dark hair on his pillow. Her hand rested in the space where his body had been, as if seeking his warmth even in sleep.

This wasn’t just sex or adrenaline or proximity born of shared danger. This was Kat—in his bed, in his life, in every guarded corner of his heart.

He should step back. Wake her gently, share breakfast, then find reasons to maintain distance. It would be kinder.

Her eyes opened, finding him in the doorway as if she’d sensed his retreat. The moment she looked at him, wrapped in his sheets, his resolve crumbled.

“You made breakfast.” Sleep still tinged her voice.

He crossed the room, placed the tray on the dresser. “Seemed like the least I could do after keeping you up half the night.”

“Keeping me up?” A smile played at her lips. “I recall being a willing participant.”

“More than willing.” His voice dropped, rough with memory. “You were...”

He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t cheapen what they’d shared.

“What?” she prompted softly.

“Perfect.” The word came out raw and unguarded. “You were perfect, Kat.”

“You too, Leonid.”

He sat down on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden stripes across her skin. He reached for her, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. Her skin was warm, her pulse faster.

“I brought you breakfast, but suddenly I’m ravenous for something else entirely.”

Her lips parted, her small intake of breath audible in the quiet room. He leaned in, fingers threading into her hair—still strange and wonderful in its new darkness—and kissed her. Gentler than last night’s desperate passion, but no less consuming.

The sheet slipped as she rose to meet him, raising goosebumps he wanted to chase with his mouth. He traced the smooth curve of her shoulder with his thumb, marveling at the contrast between his darker skin and her paleness.

Too much English rain. He’d fix that—inch by inch, kiss by kiss.

“Leonid.” Her breath hitched against his lips, her hand sliding to his shoulder, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

It took everything he had to hold himself in check. “This changes everything.”

“I know.” She traced his scar with a tenderness that made his chest ache. “I’ve built my entire career on avoiding complications. But you’re the one complication I can’t seem to live without.”

He hadn’t meant to touch her again. Not this soon. Not after everything last night. He’d woken early, made her food, tried to be good.

Normal .

But then she looked at him and all his restraint scattered like dust.

He lowered her back against the pillows, his body covering hers, feeling the heat of her through the thin barrier of the sheet. Her hands slid slow over his back, fingertips catching on every ridge of scar tissue like she was memorizing him.

“I’ve wanted this,” he spoke his confession against the curve of her neck, breathing in the lingering traces of his soap on her skin. “For years.”

She stretched beneath him, her body a perfect counterpoint to his. “Stop talking and show me.”

Leo took a second to memorize this moment—Kat beneath him, softened by sleep and morning light, dark hair on his pillow.

He pulled the sheet away, baring her skin. His palms followed, slow and possessive, over her waist, her hips, the bruise blooming along her arm a reminder of the world that still wanted to harm her.

She was both familiar and unknown.

He’d found his center.

Here. With Kat.

His mouth met hers again, this kiss molten and coaxing, his tongue stroking hers in lazy promise. She gasped into his mouth, her fingers twisting in his hair—not guiding, needing.

Last night had been frantic. This was a smolder—heat building between them, thick and deliberate, like an ember stoked with every touch.

All the years they’d held back now distilled into this slow, aching possession.

He trailed lips and teeth along her throat, down the column of her neck. He kissed her collarbone, her breast, teased her nipple with his tongue until she whimpered. Every sound she made hit him low, a visceral punch to his gut. She scratched her nails down his back, and he wanted more of it.

“You drive me mad,” he murmured against her skin.

She giggled, breathless. “Good.”

When he slid down her body, she opened her thighs for him without hesitation. His name left her mouth in a sweet sigh as his mouth closed over her again—he took his time, savoring the sweet taste of her, his tongue swirling around her swollen bud till she was gasping.

Breakfast could burn and the world could end, and none of it would matter as long as he was here, with her.

She came apart with a strangled cry, nails biting into his skin, her breath wrecked against his neck.

And still, he didn’t stop. He rose over her, guided himself against her entrance, and paused—just a breath, just long enough to look into her eyes.

No walls.

No lies.

Just them.

“Kat.” It was an effort to speak, to pause like this. “If we do this… are you sure?”

Her pupils were blown wide, her skin flushed, feverish with need. But her gaze didn’t waver. “We already crossed that line.” She palmed his jaw with softness. “I’m not going back.”

He searched her face—one last heartbeat of hesitation. “You know what that means?”

“Yes.” Her eyes were luminescent. “So do you.”

“I’m not running anymore.”

She nodded once, eyes locked to his, and he pushed inside her with a groan that tore from his soul. Skin on skin. She was silk and fire around him, unguarded and completely his.

She gasped—legs tightening around him, drawing him deeper. “God, Leonid?—”

He moved slowly at first, savoring the friction, the way her body gripped him. Their fingers tangled. Breaths staggered. It was a losing battle to hold the line of his control.

He thrust deep and her cry shattered the last threads of his restraint. Pleasure surged through him, stripping away everything but her.

“You and me,” he ground out, voice broken. “Nothing’s ever felt this right.”

She rose to meet him, hips moving with his, her cries ragged and beautiful, wrecking him as her climax tore through her.

Pleasure knotted low, fierce and inescapable, pulling him under.

With one final, desperate thrust he came with an animal growl, every nerve alight. His entire world narrowed to her.

In the stillness after, truth hit him. He’d give her everything—his protection, his future, his last breath.

Because—

He was already hers.