Her insight into him was startling and damned frightening, but also unexpectedly binding. Something shifted between them then. Something strong, silent, and electric.
“Thanks for not treating me like I’m fragile,” she said. “Even if you do treat me like a mission.”
“You’re not a mission.”
Her gaze widened, no doubt as startled by the low rasp in his voice as he was. Hell, he wasn’t sure he meant to say it out loud. But the words were true and already out there…hanging in the air, waiting for someone to make a move.
“Good,” she murmured softly.
The tension amped up, sharp and immediate, like a tripwire snapping. She stood just a foot away—close enough that the heat between them felt like static waiting to crack. Amber streaks inher hair glistened under the kitchen lighting, the curve of her mouth hovered in a half-smile, as the sweet, strawberry scent of her shampoo warmed his blood.
“Thank you for staying,” she said in that soft voice that ruled his pulse. “For not arguing with my aunt.”
If he were smart, he would’ve said something practical. Would’ve put distance between them. But he was an idiot, because he stepped closer, set his unopened bottle on the counter by the sink, and all that came out was the truth. “You make it really damn hard to argue.”
Laurel blinked and her expression warmed before her gaze dipped to his mouth.
Aw, hell. Something inside him cracked open.
Bennett took the bottle from her hand and set it next to his before he cupped her face and kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t measured. It was hours, days of tension and stolen glances and stubborn standoffs unraveling into one kiss that short-circuited every rational thought in his damn head.
She kissed him back, fierce and warm, her fingers curling into his shirt as if daring him to pull away.
He didn’t.
He couldn’t.
No way in hell.
He pressed her against the counter, bracing a hand beside her hip, his other hand remaining on the curve of her jaw. The kiss deepened, her breath mixing with his. She tasted like mint and hunger, and he couldn’t get enough.
The world narrowed to her mouth, her sweet body tight against his, the sound of their breathing, the rush of blood in his ears—
CRASH.
The window by the table exploded inward with a blast of shattered glass.
Laurel gasped, and Bennett moved before his brain caught up. He grabbed her, twisting them both down to the ground, shielding her with his body as glass sprayed across the hardwood floor.
Her breath was ragged beneath him, heart pounding fast.
“You okay?” he asked, his own voice sharp and clipped.
She nodded, eyes wide. “Y-yeah.”
“Stay down,” he ordered, releasing her.
Bennett stayed low as he approached the window, eyes narrowing as he scanned the dark. He crouched beside the shattered opening, heart still hammering in his chest, eyes scanning the darkness for movement, for something, anything that would reveal the culprit.
Nothing.
The alley was empty and quiet except for the distant barking of a dog and the low hum of traffic several blocks away. Whoever had thrown the chunk of mortar near his boot was already gone.
Clean.
Fast.
