His weight held up on trembling arms, Kade stared down at her, shaken. He couldn’t stop thinking. It was time to get up now, free her from the counter, steal maybe one more kiss from her trembling, passion-swollen lips, and then just walk away. He always walked away. He’d built a life around not staying, not lingering, not getting attached. Attachments were knives—sometimes scraping erotically across the skin, sometimes digging in, cutting gaping wounds so severe that they could drop a man to his knees. He’d seen it more times than he cared to count. He’d even been dropped to his knees once. Just once. Never again. Walk away. Every muscle in his back and shoulders tensed, but perched over her from behind he could see the profile of her face. Her eyes were open—so green, so dazed, smoldering from the passion that had rocked her. Her hair, that long, red tangle, was twisted around his hand, the strawberry leash by which he held her down.
