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His free hand came up to cup my jaw. Warm, calloused fingers slid against my skin. I should have pulled back. Should have reminded him that we were in the middle of a crisis and this was a terrible idea.

Instead, I leaned into his touch.

"Code..."

His mouth covered mine.

The kiss started gentle. Tentative, like he was giving me the chance to pull away. But I'd been thinking about this for days. Ever since that almost-kiss in the office. Ever since he'd looked at me like I was Katherine, not Kit Lord the brand.

I pressed closer, fingers threading through his hair. He made a low sound in his throat, one hand sliding to the small of my back while the other cradled my face. The kiss deepened. His beard scraped against my skin in the best possible way.

My back hit the wall. I didn't remember moving, but suddenly Code's body pressed against mine, solid and real and exactly what I needed. His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones while his mouth did things that made rational thought impossible.

I lifted his t-shirt, my fingers finding warm skin beneath. He sucked in a breath.

Then he pulled away.

Not far. Just enough that air came between us. His forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard.

"What are we doing?" His voice was rough, wrecked.

I liked that sound.

"We're kissing." I tried to pull him back.

"Katherine." He caught my wrists, gentle but firm. "You're stressed. Vulnerable. I'm taking advantage."

The words hit like cold water. I jerked my hands free.

"Excuse me?"

"This isn't the right time. You're dealing with a crisis and I'm supposed to be protecting you, not..."

"Not what?" My voice rose. "Not treating me like an adult who can make her own decisions? Not trusting that I know my own damn mind?"

Code's eyes widened.

"I've spent fifteen years in Hollywood having people make decisions for me. My agent decides what roles I try out for. My publicist decides what I say in interviews. My business manager decides how I spend my money." Each word came out sharper than the last. "The one thing I get to control is my personal life. Who I kiss. Who I want. When I want him."

"I didn't mean to imply..."

"You absolutely did." I poked his chest again. Hard. "You decided I was too fragile to handle this. Too weak to know what I want. Well, newsflash, Code. I'm not some damsel who needs protecting from her own feelings."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you think I'm so broken by this situation that I can't possibly know my own heart."

He caught my finger mid-poke, holding it against his chest. His heart hammered beneath my touch, fast and erratic.

"I don't want to be something you regret." His voice dropped. "When this is over. When you're back in LA." He pulled back slightly. "I don't want to be your biggest regret."

The words deflated some of my anger. But not all of it.

"You don't get to decide what I'll regret."

"No. But I can try not to give you reasons to."

We stood there, neither of us willing to back down. The tension between us felt like a living thing, coiled and ready to strike.