Page 77 of Locked and Loaded

"Last night I was exhausted and traumatized and not thinking clearly."

"And now?" he murmured between kisses

"Now I'm hungry, and I need sunscreen."

He pulled back just far enough to look at her. Water was running down his face, catching in his eyelashes, tracing the scar along his ribs. His hands were still on her hips, and he was close enough that she could feel the heat coming off him despite the cold water.

"Lennox."

"Dragan."

"Are you okay?"

The question caught her off guard. Not flirtation. Not a move. Just a question, simple and direct, the same way he asked everything.

She thought about lying. She was good at lying. She'd been doing it for months, to hotel clerks and cab drivers and people who wanted to kill her. But Dragan wasn't any of those people, and standing naked in a shower with him, lying felt pointless.

"I'm better," she said. "Sleep helped."

"And the rest?"

She knew what he was asking. Last night. The guilt she'd dumped at his feet like a burden she couldn't carry anymore.

"The rest is still there," she said. "I'm just handling it better."

He nodded as if he understood. He probably did. Dragan had the look of a man who'd been handling things on his own for a very long time.

"I need to focus," she said. "On finding my sister. Last night was—” She stopped. Started again. "Last night was good. Really good. But I can't let myself get distracted. Not until Chloe is safe."

"I know."

"It doesn't mean I didn't—” She was making a mess of this. "It doesn't mean I don't⁠—”

"I know," he said again. He tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear, and his fingers lingered at her temple. "We focus. We find your sister. Everything else can wait."

"Everything else?"

"Everything else."

He said it like it was simple. Like putting whatever was happening between them on hold was a practical decision, the same as checking the oil or filling the gas tank. She should have been relieved. Instead, she felt a small, sharp pang of something she refused to name.

"You're very agreeable this morning," she said.

He gave a small shrug. "I slept."

"Four hours."

He caught her chin in his fingers. "Four hours with you is better than eight alone."

She stared at him. "That was almost romantic."

"Don't get used to it."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. The sound surprised her, bright and unexpected in the small tiled space, and Dragan's mouth curved into something that was almost a smile.

"I need to find you some shoes," he said.

"You need to find me shoes?"