Page 26 of The Baker’s Shadow

“For not leaving me alone with this.”

Something in his expression cracks. “I should have stayed away. Should never have come to your kitchen that night.”

“But you did.”

“Yes.”

“And now we’re here.”

“Yes.”

I trace my thumb across his lower lip. Feel him go absolutely still beneath my touch.

“Kaia.” My name is a warning. A plea.

“I need more,” I say.

“I’m giving you...”

“Not that.” My hand slides to the back of his neck. “Something else.”

“This is dangerous.”

“Everything about you is dangerous.” I lean forward until our foreheads touch. “But I’m still here.”

His hand tightens on my ribs. Not painful. Just holding. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

“If I start,” he says quietly, “I won’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

“The baby...”

“Is fine. Can’t you feel it?” The pulse beneath his palm is strong. Content. “It’s not afraid. It wants this. Wants you.”

He makes a sound low in his throat. Half growl. Half groan. His fingers fist in the fabric of my dress.

“Last chance,” he says.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

I kiss him.

Not tentative. Not testing. I press my mouth to his and pour three years of loneliness into it. Three years of going through the motions. Three years of wishing I could feel anything at all.

And he responds.

His mouth opens beneath mine. His hand slides up my back, cups the nape of my neck, angles my head exactly where he wants it. The kiss deepens, and I taste ozone and darkness and something underneath that’s purely him.

When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.

“That was a mistake,” he says.

“Good.”

His thumb finds my pulse. Presses there. “I’m supposed to be keeping my distance.”

“You’re terrible at it.”