Page 31 of Borrowed Pain
"No."
Neither of us moved or looked away. The evidence wall loomed behind Rowan—nine faces staring down at us, including Iris with her intelligent eyes.
"I think we need to talk about what's happening here, Miles."
The rational part of my brain agreed. We needed to discuss professional boundaries, ethical considerations, and the complications of mixing investigations and attraction. We needed to step back, create distance, and acknowledge the electricity that crackled whenever we were in the same room.
My body wouldn't have it. "I'm going to kiss you," I said, the words coming out steadier than I felt.
Rowan's eyes searched mine. For a heartbeat, I thought he might retreat behind professional boundaries.
Instead, he leaned forward just enough to close half the distance between us.
Permission.
I bridged the remaining space, my hands resting on the solid warmth of his shoulders. The kiss started carefully, testing—lips brushing lips. I tasted the lingering sweetness of whatever he'd been stress-baking that morning—cardamom and brown sugar.
One of his hands cupped my jaw, and the fingers of the other hand threaded into the hair at the back of my head. The kiss deepened.
I let it.
My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, feeling the lean strength beneath his Henley and how his muscles shifted as he pressed closer. He kissed like he did everything else—with complete focus.
When we finally broke apart, I expected the familiar rush of awkwardness, the instinct to crack a joke and restore safe distance. Instead, I stared into Rowan's eyes, watching his pupils dilate.
His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, and my breath caught audibly.
"We should probably talk about this." It was so much more than that. One kiss, and I was ready to throw everything away for a man whose investigation could destroy us both. My license, my practice, my family's trust—all balanced on the edge of wanting him more than my own safety.
"Later," Rowan said, his voice dropping to that low register I knew from late-night podcast episodes. "Right now, I want to kiss you again."
The honesty of it—naked desire—wrecked my armor. Rowan was a man who wanted what I wanted.
"Yeah," I breathed, "later."
The second kiss was different—hungrier and less careful. Rowan gripped my waist, fingers pressing against my hipbone, anchoring me against him. His heart beat against my chest, fast and strong.
I was falling for a man as haunted as I was. The investigation had brought us together, but this—his hands in my hair and his breath against my lips—was something entirely different.
It terrified me that he could read me so easily. What happened when he looked past the humor and found someone who'd been pretending to have his shit together since he was twelve?
Chapter eight
Rowan
My hands still wrapped around Miles's waist, pulling him up tight against me. The warehouse hummed around us—monitors casting blue shadows, and the evidence wall looming with its gallery of faces.
I stepped back. Distance. I needed distance to think.
"We should get lunch." The words came out twice as steady as I felt.
Miles gazed at me. "Running away already?"
"Strategic repositioning." I reached for my jacket, draped over the desk chair. "I need to think, and I can't do that when you're—"
"When I'm what?"
When you're close enough that I can smell the spearmint gum on your breath and hear that unconscious humming sound you make when you're thinking.
