"Still," I persist, "my life is complicated. Dangerous. Not something to get mixed up in."
"Maybe I like complicated," she counters softly. "Maybe I'm tired of the simple, predictable existence I've carved out here."
We're close enough now that I can smell her strawberry shampoo. Close enough that I can see the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, almost invisible except in this proximity.
"Katty," I say her name like a warning, a last attempt at restraint.
"Tank," she responds, my name on her lips a challenge.
And just like that, whatever resolve I had crumbles.
Chapter 8 - Katty
And just like that, I'm lost.
His muscular arm wraps around my shoulder, pulling me closer with surprising gentleness despite the urgency I can feel radiating from him. When his lips find mine, he kisses me like a man dying of thirst who's finally found water.
Everything narrows to sensations. The press of his mouth against mine, the scratch of his stubble against my skin, the solid warmth of his body as he draws me even closer. I respond instantly, instinctively, my hands reaching up to grip his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath my fingertips.
The kiss deepens, his tongue seeking mine, and I open to him willingly. A small sound escapes my throat, half surprise and half pleasure. It's been so long since I've been kissed like this, with purpose, with hunger, with a need that matches my own.
When we finally part for breath, his eyes are darker, pupils expanded with desire. He looks at me like he's seeing straight through every wall I've ever built.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted to do that," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear.
"Since when?" I ask, my own voice barely a whisper.
"Since you stood beside me facing down Dylan," he admits, one hand coming up to trace the curve of my cheek. "Standing your ground without flinching. Looking like you were ready to fight alongside me if necessary."
His honesty catches me off guard, touches something deep inside me. It wasn't my appearance that first attracted him. It was my courage, my strength. The realization is unexpectedly moving.
"Your turn," he says, thumb tracing my lower lip. "When did you know you wanted this?"
"The Ferris wheel," I confess. "When you talked about finding purpose, about belonging. When I realized you understand what it's like to never quite fit anywhere."
He nods, recognition in his eyes. "We're the same, you and I. Different circumstances, same core."
His hand slides down to my neck, then lower, hesitating at the strap of my tank top.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his restraint evident in the tension of his body.
The consideration in the question, this powerful man pausing to ensure my comfort, makes my decision easy.
"Yes," I breathe, and guide his hand to the curve of my breast.
He groans softly as his palm covers me, his touch gentle at first, then more confident as I arch into his hand. His thumb brushes across my nipple through the thin fabric, causing it to harden instantly.
"You're beautiful," he says, eyes roaming over me with frank appreciation. "These curves..." His hands span my waist, then slide to my hips. "Perfect. Something to hold onto."
The raw admiration in his voice makes me flush with pleasure. I've never been rail-thin, have always carried extra weight in my breasts and hips. Previous partners have either politely ignored this fact or fetishized it. Tank simply appreciates it, his large hands mapping my body inch by inch.
He kisses me again as he eases me back onto the couch. I go willingly, letting him cover me with his body, feeling the hard planes of his chest press against my softness. His weight should feel confining, but instead it's grounding, secure.
His lips leave mine to trail down my neck, finding sensitive spots that make me gasp. When he reaches the swell of my breasts above my tank top, he glances up, seeking permission again.
"Please," I whisper, beyond caring about anything but his touch.
He hooks his fingers under the hem of my top and slowly draws it upward, exposing my skin inch by inch. When he pulls it over my head and tosses it aside, his sharp intake of breath is gratifying.
