"I know you can." He drops his forehead to mine. "But I need you to come back to me, Harper. All of you. Intact."
The vulnerability in his words makes my chest ache. "Same goes for you," I say, my hands finding his bare shoulders. "No explosions. No reckless shit. You come back to me too."
"Deal."
We stay like that for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes and breathing each other's air. Then Luke's hands slide up my thighs, pushing the hem of the T-shirt higher.
"You know what I want to watch?" he murmurs as he starts to kiss me.
"What?"
"You. Shaving."
I pull back, blinking. Blushing, thinking about my earlier thoughts. "What?"
His grin is wicked. "I want to watch you shave, sunshine. Legs, bikini line, whatever you do in here when I'm not around."
Heat floods my face. "Luke?—"
"Come on." His hands squeeze my thighs playfully. "You've been sitting here watching me for ten minutes. Fair's fair."
"That's completely different." It’d be completely hot.
"How?"
"Because—" I falter, searching for logic that doesn't exist. "It just is."
"Uh-huh." He's laughing now, his eyes bright with mischief. "You're blushing."
"I am not." I totally am.
"You absolutely are." He kisses my neck, just below my ear. "It's cute."
"I'm not cute. I'm a former cop who's about to storm a trafficking compound."
"You can be both." His mouth moves lower, trailing heat down my throat. "Badass and cute. Deadly and mine."
The possessiveness in his voice does things to me. "You're distracting me on purpose."
"That's the plan." His hands slide higher. His eyes darken when his fingers touch my private hair and he realizes I’m not wearing panties. "Jesus, Harper," he says as his thumbs press between my lips.
"House rules," I remind him breathlessly. "Remember?"
"Best rule I ever made." He hooks my legs around his waist and lifts me off the counter in one smooth motion.
I yelp, grabbing his shoulders for balance.
He carries me toward the shower. "We have a couple hours before Hendricks gets here."
"A couple hours to do what?"
“I’ll show you,” he says, flashing his wicked grin as he sets me in the glass enclosure and turns the water on.
I love his sweet smile, but this wicked grin makes me hot. It always has, and it always will. “We already took a shower,” I point out, lifting my arms so he can pull the T-shirt over my head.
“I know.” He drops his towel and steps into me. “But I’m about to get you real dirty.”
Then he's kissing me again, and the water is hot, and his hands are everywhere, and for just a little while longer, we let ourselves exist in this perfect, private moment.