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The pressure of Jonas’s forearm lifted from Kate’s throat, and she heard him fumble for something on the wall beside them. The overhead light came on, and she blinked in the glare. She would have held up a hand against it, but he still held both of hers pinned to the floor over her head. With his free hand, Jonas pushed the apartment door closed.
"Damn it to hell, Kate, I could have hurt you!" he growled. "What in God's name were you doing?"
"I couldn't sleep. I went for a run."
"You what? At three in the bloody morning in a strange city? Are you out of your mind? What if I'd been someone else?" His grip tightened on her. "Anything could have happened to you out there."
"I know how to look after myself," she reminded him. "And I was careful."
He didn't look impressed.
Kate sighed and tugged at her hands. "Do you mind?"
His gaze moved to the hold he still had on her. He let go, but he didn’t move away. She eased her arms down and rubbed at her shoulder.
Jonas frowned. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Not really. It just doesn't like being in one position for too long."
"Show me."
The request was as unexpected as it was abrupt, and Kate stopped massaging her shoulder to stare up at the tiny muscle flickering in front of Jonas's ear. Then she tugged aside the hoodie and the strap of her sports bra to expose the shiny, puckered remains of the bullet hole just above the midpoint of her collarbone. Jonas stared at it in silence. His gaze returned to hers, a question in the shadowed blue depths. Kate cleared her throat.
"It was a freak thing," she said. "There was a gap at the neck of my vest. It entered there. A one-in-a-million shot."
"Hollow point?"
She gave a terse nod of her head. "When it fragmented, it took out something called the coracoid process, part of the shoulder blade that helps stabilize everything. They pieced it back together as best they could, but..." She trailed off, still coming to terms with knowing it would never be the same.
"It missed the artery?"
"Nicked it." Kate held back a shudder at the memory of bright red arterial blood spurting from her body when they removed her vest. So much blood.
"You're lucky to be alive." Jonas's voice was gruff.
"So are you," she pointed out.
His mouth twisted. "Touché."
Conversation fell away, and quiet settled between them, its seconds marked by the soft tick of the wall clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
The silence morphed into a beast stalking its prey. Stalking them.
And still Jonas remained. A half-naked Jonas, his chest sprinkled with crisp, curling hairs, skin gleaming beneath the harsh light above them. Kate blinked. Breathing failed. How in heaven's name had she not noticed the semi-nakedness before?
In the space of a single heartbeat, awareness flared in her belly and spread to her every nerve ending. Suddenly, acutely, she felt every inch of the hard, muscled strength of his legs pressing against her sides. Saw the lean fingers resting on his thighs, tantalizingly near her ribcage, her breasts. Felt the unmistakable swell of his—
Oh, dear lord. Her eyes snapped shut. Move, her mind urged him. Stay, her body whispered. She tried to swallow, but her tongue had glued itself to the roof of her mouth. Above her, Jonas exhaled on a long shudder. His legs tensed as if readying to rise, and she braced herself for his retreat from her yet again.
But this time, he didn't. This time, he remained. This time, gently, magically, his fingers brushed her collarbone, traced it, rested on the puckered scar. She opened her eyes and stared upward, into the brilliant blue of his.
"Kate," he began.
She placed her fingers over his lips, stilling his words. She shook her head. "Don't," she said.
Another long, deep shudder rippled through his frame.
Kate raised her other hand to his shoulder. She traced her fingertips over his collarbone, slid them over the swell of muscle, skimmed them across the scattering of rough hair. She hesitated as his jaw contracted, then boldly let her touch drift lower. Her fingers grazed the denim edge of his jeans, slid beneath the stiff material.
Jonas’s stomach muscles contracted, and he inhaled sharply, covering her hand with his own, catching it tight. "There are so many reasons we shouldn't," he muttered.
And so many more they should—but Kate kept the thought to herself. "I know," she said.
"Do you?" His expression was both bleak and filled with yearning at the same time. "I don't want to hurt you, Kate."
"Then don't."
Surprise flashed through his eyes. Resignation followed it. He tightened his jaw and nodded. "You're right," he said. He braced a hand against the floor on either side of her, preparing to push himself up. Away.
Kate curved her hands over his shoulders and pulled herself up to meet him. "That's not what I meant," she whispered. Then, before she could think better of it, she kissed him.
Jonas went rigid beneath her touch. His mouth tightened against hers, and for a moment she thought she had failed. Thought that he would pull away after all, that she would be denied even this one moment with him. In desperation, she softened her mouth, opened it ever so slightly, and slid the tip of her tongue against his bottom lip.
He pulled back, conflict clouding the brilliance of his eyes. "Damn it, Kate, you're not playing fair."
"There's no such thing as fair," she retorted. "Not anymore, and certainly not tonight. You don't want this to go anywhere? Fine. But you owe me, Jonas Burke, and I'm collecting. Now."
The war in Jonas's gaze continued for a few seconds more, and then, just as Kate was wondering what more she could possibly do to convince him, it gave way to a smolder that darkened his eyes to the color of sapphires. Strong hands cupped her face, and he leaned forward, bearing her to the floor with unmistakable intent.
"Have it your way, Kate Dexter," he growled. "But be forewarned that I believe in paying my debts in full."
She had no time for more than a quick, surprised inhale before his mouth claimed hers and his tongue slid between her lips to tangle with her own. A groan broke from her as his hands spanned her ribcage, thumbs sliding over her breasts through the fabric of her hoodie and the sports bra beneath.
Too much fabric.
As if in agreement, Jonas undid the hoodie's zipper and pushed the garment from her shoulders. Strong fingers slid under her bra, fought for a second against its snug fit, then shoved it impatiently up and out of the way. Then his mouth left hers, traveling down, trailing over her throat, lifting to bypass the bra, closing with mind-spinning accuracy over first one rigid peak, then the other.
Kate wanted to object, to tell him to slow down, but need arched her back, driving her against him. His hands roved her body, stroking and teasing, evoking sensations one after another, so fast she couldn't catch her breath between them. Couldn't keep up with her own body. She buried her face against the thick muscles of his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. Her fingers found the snap of his jeans. The hardness of his body beneath the zipper.
The already taut muscles of Jonas's stomach went rigid, and his fingers closed over hers, stilling her efforts.
"Not yet," he murmured, his voice hoarse with restraint and his breath hot against her cheek. "I'm too close to the edge. You deserve more—"
Kate stopped his words with her lips.
"To hell with that," she murmured against his mouth. "I'm already over the edge—and I'm not going alone."
She tugged free of his hold and found the jeans snap again. This time, Jonas didn't try to stop her. He lifted to give her access, and she slid his zipper down, the metallic rasp loud in the silence that had fallen between them. She wrapped her fingers around him, reveling in his thick heaviness. The throb of his heat. His breathing turned ragged.
He rolled to the side, and anticipation curled through Kate as he peeled off his jeans, tossed them aside, and turned his efforts to her own clothing. Hoodie and sports bra followed in the wake of the jeans. His fingers slipped beneath the elastic waistband of her sweatpants. They stilled.
"Bloody hell," he muttered against her shoulder.
Kate thought she might scream. "What?" she asked, fighting to keep the frustration from her voice—and from adding now to the question.
"Protection," he said. "I don't have—"
"Hoodie pocket," she interrupted. Jonas pulled back to stare at her. Heat scorched her cheeks, and she waited for his comment. Waited for the questions. Wondered how she would phrase her intent to seduce him tonight, because she’d known it would be her one and only chance to be with him.
Even if he survived tomorrow.
But Jonas said nothing. Instead, with a speed that would have left her breathless if his touch hadn't already done so, he tugged the sweatpants from her ankles, reached for the hoodie, sheathed himself, and enveloped her in his arms.
And then he was bearing her back onto the carpet, and his body was covering hers, and his mouth and hands were everywhere at once, touching, teasing, stroking, trailing liquid fire in their wake. Kate tried to reciprocate, but blind need stripped her of any capacity to do more than rise to meet him. To take him into her. To clutch frantically at his shoulders as she tried to draw him ever deeper.
They moved as one. Her body became molten, merging with his as he abandoned any attempt at control. Heat swept through her, carrying her to dizzying, spiraling heights, until the entire world fell away into nothing but her and Jonas and all the exquisite sensations flowing between them, over them, around them. From far away she heard Jonas's hoarse voice, but words meant nothing now. She teetered for an instant on a precipice, somewhere between reality and eternity.
Then Jonas's voice came again, clear this time, calling out her name, and she toppled, free-falling through a kaleidoscope of timeless, whirling colors, her own cry mingling distantly with his.