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"Wind, huh?" I felt the tightness in my chest ease a fraction. "Guess we'll have to blow hard."
"Leave the dirty jokes for later," he tossed the towel onto the counter. "For now, let's focus on getting clean."
"Speak for yourself, Quinn. I'm as clean as snow," I fired back, watching as Kylo moved towards the bathroom. The faucet turned on, the sound of water hitting the shower floor an oddly soothing percussion in the otherwise silent room.
"Sure you are," he called over his shoulder, a teasing tone in his voice. "Just like New York City is known for its sparkling sidewalks."
"Hey, they sparkle after a rain. Granted, it's more cigarette butts and used condoms than fairy dust, but still..."
Kylo's laugh bounced off the tiles, and I found myself smiling despite the dread that coiled in my gut like a hungry snake. This was our rhythm, the push and pull that kept us sane in a job that had a way of eroding your soul like acid.
My traitorous mind played reruns of Kylo's bare back, each muscle a testament to his strength. And wasn't that just the sexiest thing? A man who could carry the weight of the world—or at least my screwed-up corner of it—without breaking a sweat.
"Fuck focus," I grumbled. "It's overrated anyway."
Through the thin door, the sound of running water was a siren call, luring me away from the web of conspiracy theories and dead ends. I knew I should be plotting our next move, getting my head in the game. Instead, I found myself fantasizing about soap suds tracing paths along Kylo's skin. It was a distraction, dangerous and delicious, and I was diving headfirst into the deep end.
Because why not? I sneered at the peeling wallpaper like it was judging me. It's not like life's been all roses and handcuffs... Well, there were handcuffs that one time.
The steady patter of the shower beat against my self control, and I pushed back from the table. Each step toward the bathroom was a battle, the gravity of my quest pulling me one way, the gravity of Kylo's presence tugging me another.
"Two minutes," I promised myself, the lie bitter on my tongue. "Just long enough to?—"
What? Stare? Drool? Offer to scrub his back? Because that wouldn't be weird at all.
“Shit," I sighed as my hand closed around the doorknob, the cool metal grounding me for a fleeting moment. Then, with a twist and a push, I was inside, the humid air clinging to my skin like an accusation.
"Taking stock of the towels?" Kylo's voice sliced through the mist, half-muffled by the shower curtain.
"Inventory is key," My tone was light. But fuck it. If I was going down, I'd be doing it on my own terms.
The lock clicked into place with a finality that echoed in the small space. My panties hit the floor with a whisper, their descent marking the collapse of my last shred of restraint.
"Need help with that inventory?" I asked, my voice a mix of bravery and something far more raw as I slid the shower curtain aside.
Kylo's grin was sin itself, and as I stepped into the cascade of hot water, I let it wash over me—the dirt, the doubts, and every damned rule I'd ever set for myself. Because here, in this little slice of nowhere, with the only person crazy enough to stick around, I found something that felt a lot like home.
"Absolutely," he reached for me. "Let's make sure we count everything."
"Twice," I added, because if I was going to hell, I might as well enjoy the ride.
Chapter
Seven
There I was, steam curling around me like some damn film noir set piece, only instead of a smoky bar, it was a cramped motel bathroom. And instead of a stiff drink, I had Kylo Quinn sharing the water with me.
"Cozy, isn't it?" I said nervously, my voice almost lost in the drumming water.
"Intimate," he corrected with that half-smile made up of charm and trouble. The kind that usually had me rolling my eyes or reaching for my gun – sometimes both.
Kylo stepped closer, close enough that I could count the droplets that clung to his lashes. His hand brushed against my arm, and it was like he was tracing a live wire straight to my core. Shivers chased down my spine, skipping merrily along and diving deep between my legs. I bit back a curse because I wasn't some damsel, and Kylo Quinn wouldn't be the one to make me swoon – even if he did look like sin and salvation had a love child.
"Like what you see, Winslow?" he teased, obviously reading the heat in my gaze.
"I've seen better." I smirked, but we both knew I was full of shit.
His laugh echoed through the tiny space and mingled with the rhythmic pattering of water. The tension was thick, like the steam that fogged up the mirror. It wasn't just the fact that I was pressed against the cold tiles with him hovering over me, it was the goddamn electricity buzzing between us, threatening to blow the power out.
