Lila

He made dinner for her, and even though it wasn't the first time, something about being separated from their lives like this, when no one knew where they were, brought an extra sense of…tension. The lovely, shivery kind. Lila sat at the dining table, watching Dane move around the small kitchen, humming as he worked. He was in a t-shirt and she couldn't take her eyes off his forearms—the way the tendons stood out on his hands, the way his muscles rolled. The gentleness and care he could take, even when he was so strong.

​​

By the time he served her a crumbed chicken breast in a delicious sauce, her breath was coming faster. "Thank you," she said breathily as he set it on the table in front of her and poured a glass of white wine. He caught the tone in her voice and looked at her for the first time in forty-five minutes and his eyes darkened.

"You're welcome." His voice had gotten even deeper.

He sat down across from her with his own plate and took a bite, but his eyes were only on her. Lila flushed and focused on the food—it was better than her favorite restaurant—but she could barely register the flavor, because she felt his gaze like a touch.

*****

Dane

He kept clearing his throat so she wouldn't notice how hard he was breathing. Sitting across from her when she looked at him like that, it was like a drug. His resolve to keep things slow this weekend was crumbling.

"So…" he said gruffly as he took his last bite.

She leaned over her plate, a few more bites of her own to go. She waited until she swallowed, then looked up at him through her lashes. "So?"

Dane found himself gripping his knife so hard, his knuckles turned white. "What would you like to do this evening? What would be…relaxing?"

She raised an eyebrow and his groin tightened. Down boy. He cleared his throat again. "I have cable. And Netflix. There's some board games. There's a whole shelf of books in my—"

"You want to play board games, Dane?" she said softly and held his gaze.

In his mind he could see it all, how he'd stand up, walk around the table to offer her a hand, and when she stood, he'd pick her up so she wrapped her legs around his waist, then he'd press her into the wall—

His damn phone rang, interrupting the delicious fantasy. They both blinked, then looked at it, sitting on the end of the table.

James calling. Accept or Decline.

Dane swore. James was one of their investigators. A strange, beetle of a man who lived in a bunker and rarely showed up in person. But he had the most uncanny way of finding out information no one else could.

He also talked like words were money and the more he spoke, the more he earned.

Dane sighed. "I have to—"

"Why don't you answer it, and I'll clean up?" Lila said, reaching across to pat his hand. He sighed again and nodded, picking up the phone.

Forty minutes later, he was on the couch, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes as he tried desperately to bring James to the point.

"Yes, yes, I understand. It really isn't important at this point, how you found the information—"

"Oh, but you won't be sure you can trust it unless you see…" the man would not stop talking. Lila had finished in the kitchen and wandered the apartment. She'd found a book in the little space he called the hallway, next to his bedroom, and she'd brought it over to the couch. Now she was standing there, obviously considering where to sit.

While he made listening noises, waiting until he heard something important, Dane took her hand and pulled her gently down onto the couch, gesturing for her to lay her head in his lap. When she did, he laid his arm on the back of the couch and leaned that way so he could watch her. He wanted to growl with how beautiful she was with her full lips in the hint of a smile, and her cheeks pink. When she finally got herself comfortable, her head on his thigh, he trailed his fingers through her hair, spreading it out over his lap. The golden strands soft and wavy. He couldn't stop touching it, though it was making him hard.

He had to get off this phone call.

"Okay, James," he interrupted the man mid-flow. "I'm working on something very important. I need you to fill me in on what you learned, and who else knows."

"Right, right," the man said. Dane could see him in his mind's eye, pushing up his glasses and frowning. "There's just one more thing you need to understand…" and he was off again.

Dane muttered a curse under his breath.

Lila giggled and opened her book, but laying that way, with her arms bent up, pressed her breasts together in a way that made him want to plunge his tongue between them. His breath was too fast and he was having to consciously control it so James wouldn't hear him.

Lila shifted her shoulders, finding a more comfortable position, and Dane almost groaned.

Unable to resist, he let the fingers of his free hand trail from her hair, to her shoulder, down her side. Slowly, slowly, slowly. She froze, still pretending to look at the book. But the skin on her arm pebbled. Dane grinned wickedly.

Slowly, slowly, he danced along her skin, from her collarbone, around her breast, to her side, then up her thigh that was bent up to cradle the book. He cursed her jeans for keeping him away from her skin, but didn't miss the shiver that went through her when he trailed his fingers back up—this time just slightly closer to the middle of her thigh, rather than the outside.

For minutes, with James' voice rambling in his ear, Dane heard nothing but his own breath, and saw nothing but Lila ripple under his touch.

At some point she gave up trying to read the book and let it drop, her arms at her sides, as she blew out a breath and tipped her head back a little when his fingers trailed up her side again. He took the invitation to let his fingertips slide up between her breasts this time, to the skin at her throat, then her neck, then through her hair.

Then he started again at her knee.

They were both panting.