Kylie was still mad as she and Joe waited for an Uber. Mad at her mom, mad at her mom’s new boy toy, mad at the fire escape, and last but certainly not least, mad at Joe. To sum it up, she was mad at everyone and everything in her life.

Including herself.

Because dammit. Dammit, she could’ve really fallen for the smart, resourceful, resilient, stoically silent man behind her. But he’d cut off that possibility before he could feel the same. It infuriated her. No, wait, that wasn’t quite true.

It hurt her feelings.

But she wasn’t going to ask for more from him. She was going to move on. No more Gibs or Joes in her life.

Refusing to cry, which she had a tendency to do when she was really angry, she continued to ignore Joe as he insisted the Uber driver take them to his truck. Once there, he made a quick run up to his office for something—she didn’t care what—returning with a backpack slung over his shoulder, after which he drove her home. She unlocked her front door and limped into her apartment, throwing her things onto the couch before moving straight to the kitchen.

She still had ice cream in the freezer. She’d thought she’d needed Joe in her life. She’d thought she needed to talk to her mom. She’d thought she needed a lot of things, but it turned out that all she really needed in that moment was comfort food. Comfort food never failed her. Hauling out the ice cream, she slapped it into the microwave for fifteen seconds to soften it and then grabbed a spoon. Leaning against the counter, she dug in, eyes closed, concentrating only on the taste of the little chocolate chips melting on her tongue.

Thank God for chocolate.

Joe hadn’t followed her into the kitchen at first. Probably checking out the apartment, but she sensed when he showed up because her nipples got hard. Which was really annoying. She opened her eyes and yep, sure enough, he stood close, assessing her.

Normally when she was feeling way too many feelings, no one and nothing could get through to her. But the sight of him pulling Twinkies along with a first-aid kit from his backpack was enough for her to feel her eyes fill with tears. So that’s what he’d gone up to his office for. “I’m fine,” she said, sounding totally not fine, dammit.

He picked her up and set her on the kitchen counter and then handed her the Twinkies. “My emergency stash.”

“You keep Twinkies as an emergency stash?” she asked.

“Oh yeah. Don’t tell Archer.”

“Cute,” she said and felt a little chunk of her anger fall away. But only a little. “Thanks.”

He took a good look at her hands. Her right palm was scraped up pretty good. He cleaned it out and bandaged it. Then he pulled her knees apart and stepped between them. “Tilt your head back a little,” he instructed quietly, his hands resting on her thighs, warming her from the inside out.

She bared her neck, feeling a little bit like Little Red Riding Hood making herself available to the Big Bad Wolf. Joe pushed her hair away from her face and took her head in his big, warm hands, his gaze taking in the spot on her temple where she’d smacked it on her less than perfect fire escape landing. “Tender?” he asked, probing gently.

“No.” Not that she’d admit to anyway.

He brushed a small kiss to the spot, which she felt all the way through her body. Hold firm, she told herself. You’re hurt and angry with him, remember? Sexy times, no matter how good he made them, couldn’t take that hurt and anger away. Yes, she’d been mentally sidetracked by the sweet offering of the Twinkies but she was past that now.

He unzipped her sweatshirt and tugged it off, leaving her in just a thin camisole top, making her glad her nipples had gotten ahold of themselves and calmed down.

“How about here?” he asked, touching her shoulder where she’d also scraped herself and taken off a few layers of skin.

Since she couldn’t find her voice, she shrugged.

Ignoring her bad ‘tude, he kissed that spot too, his lips lingering a bit longer, and all bets were off as far as her happy nipples were concerned. Every move he made spiked her heart rate as he continued his inspection, which was really playing havoc with her ability to hold on to her anger.

In fact, it was slipping right through her fingers in spite of her determination.

“And here?” he murmured, stroking the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“I don’t know.” But she sighed as his mouth touched her there, brushing whisper-soft kisses across the tender skin. Then he gently set her down on her feet and met her gaze.

“Strip,” he said.

She gave a rough laugh at this because one, hell no. And two, even if she was willing to go there with him, she wasn’t nearly as comfortable in her skin as he was in his. He had no body issues at all and could walk around naked without even giving it another thought—nor should he—but she gave it lots of thoughts.

Joe stood there, taking up more than his fair share of the kitchen, waiting patiently with some humor in his gaze. “I want to see your knees. You’re bleeding through your jeans.”

Oh. Right. Her hands went to the waistband of her jeans and hesitated.

“What?” he asked.

She grimaced. “It feels weird to take off my pants in front of you when it’s not for sex. Like we’re playing dirty doctor or something.”

“How about after I get a look, you can order me to strip too,” he said and smiled. “You can be the sexy nurse.”

“What if I want to be the doctor?” she asked.

“Honey, once you’ve got me naked, you can be whatever you want to be.”

Rolling her eyes, she unbuttoned and unzipped and then had to execute a little shimmy to get the slightly too tight jeans down. She blamed Tina’s delicious and fattening muffins, but couldn’t get too worked up about that because if she was being honest, there was something almost unbearably erotic about stripping while Joe remained fully dressed. As her pants hit the floor, she felt her breathing change.

Joe took one look at her baby blue lacy thong and his breathing changed too. But he lifted her back up to the counter without comment. She squeaked because without her jeans, the tile was cold. He laughed softly, evilly, and then got down to doctoring.

When he had her knees patched up, he slid his hands to her butt and scooted her snug up against him, her thighs on either side of his hips. She squeezed him with her legs and felt him lean into her, his arms gently closing around her. He kissed her jaw, his lips nibbling oh so softly at her skin, and she had one cohesive thought.

I’m in such trouble . . .

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“I get to be the doctor now.”

“Doctor away,” he said, voice low and husky.

“What hurts?”

“Everything.”

Oh boy. She kissed him and then her brain shorted out and she closed her eyes because he was sliding one hand up to the back of her neck while his mouth did something pretty amazing as it worked its way across her collarbone. Flashes and bolts of heat slashed through her and whatever pain she’d been in was forgotten. She shifted to once again give him better access and he intercepted her mouth with his, making her moan as their tongues touched and another fresh bolt of lust ripped through her.

Joe kissed like he did everything else in his life—with an easy confidence and a skill that defied the odds. Being kissed by him took her out of herself and made her forget everything else. She could feel him hard through his jeans, and memories of what he felt like inside her tore another moan from her that he drank in greedily.

He used that hand he had low on her back to press her close as they moved against each other until she tore free, still breathing hard. It was crazy to her that he could get her halfway to orgasm with just a kiss, but without his mouth on her right now, thinking about it was more than a little embarrassing.

“Bed,” he said firmly and then carried her there. He was losing his clothes with quick efficiency when her brain kicked in.

Could she do this, just have sex and keep her heart out of it? She got off the bed and hesitated, unsure. Where was her red wig when she needed it?

The room was dark, only a small pool of light at the base of the window where the moon slanted in. She had no trouble seeing the outline of the dark, muscled shadow as he sat up and studied her. “I can go to the couch,” he said quietly. “Whatever you want. Just don’t ask me to leave you alone tonight.”

She chewed on her lower lip.

“Kylie.”

“I’m trying to decide what I want to do with you.”

“What are the options?” he asked.

“Kill you or kiss you.”

He laughed. “Here, let me help you decide.” Reaching out, he tugged her into him so that she stood between his spread thighs.

She sighed. “I find it really irritating that you smell so good. I want to bite you.”

He gave her a small smile. “Bite away.”

“I’m really mad at you, Joe.”

“I know. Let me make it all better.”

For now, he meant. But maybe not. Even in the dark she could see the need and yearning and hunger on his face. He wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. Staring at him, she gave a slow nod and in one dizzying move, he snagged her around the waist and tugged her back onto the bed.

And then turned on the light.

“Hey,” she complained and lifted a hand to block her eyes. “Turn that off.”

“I want to see you.”

“You know what I look like!”

“Not when we’re naked,” he said.

“I’m not naked—” She broke off when he slid off her panties. Okay, now she was naked.

“We’ve never done this before,” he said.

She gaped up at him. “What are you talking about? We’ve done nothing but this.”

He smiled but shook his head. “Not as you. You’ve always been in a wig as a disguise. But now you’re you.”

She was finding it very hard to talk with his big, delicious bod holding her down. “I wasn’t in disguise that other morning in the shower,” she said.

“Semantics. Your sweet curves were all warm and wet and covered in soap. I lost my mind.”

“How about the other night when you showed up late—”

“That’s just it,” he said. “It was late. And dark.” He pushed her hair from her face and made himself very at home between her legs. “Where were we?”

With her about to walk. But now she had him this close and she couldn’t hold on to her resolve. Not ready to have the conversation with him in this position, hell, not wanting to have it at all, she rolled so that she was on top. Better. Now he was sprawled out beneath her, all sinew and heat, and she couldn’t think. One last time, she told herself. You can have him this one last time before you walk away. “I think we were just about to rock each other’s world.”

“I like the sound of that.” Then he rolled, and before she could blink, she was pinned beneath him again.

And not, apparently, because he was in any sort of hurry to get to it. No, it was as if it was the complete opposite. A switch had been thrown and suddenly he seemed to have all the time in the world as he worked his way down her body, kissing, licking, nibbling, and then kissing again, every single inch of her. She was writhing, begging him for more, but he couldn’t be rushed as he made his way back to her mouth for a kiss that was hot, deep, and slow, and she absolutely melted. He kissed her like that for long minutes, seemingly content to just drink her in as they rolled over the bed, taking turns on top. She reveled in the dominant position for long, rare moments, reacquainting herself with every inch of him, wondering if she’d ever get enough of feeling his heat, his hard muscles quivering beneath her tongue. And when she took him just a little too far, when he groaned her name and pulled her up to straddle him, she took his hands in hers and pushed them over his head as she brought him deep inside her.

The ambient glow from her bathroom night-light lit his warrior’s body in bold relief, highlighting the sheen of his skin and the flex of his muscles moving beneath it, all the way down past his abs to where their bodies were joined. She watched, helplessly fascinated, as his body surged into hers, again and again and again. Her eyes drank in the details of him, the faint line of hair down his belly, a long, thin scar across his ribs, the line of stitches from the other night, another scar in the hollow of his shoulder.

The muscles in his neck were corded, his head thrown back in pleasure, and his eyes, locked on hers, sent her right over. She felt him go too, his mouth at her throat as he shuddered along with her . . .

They were still gasping for air, still lying tangled together where they’d collapsed. From somewhere in the dark room, Joe’s phone buzzed. The nature of his job and the story of their lives. He ignored it but Kylie was barely able to recognize this fact. She was that far gone in what they’d just done. It felt as though he’d peeled back all her layers and broken into her heart. There were feelings, oh so many feelings, and she knew, dammit, she knew, she wasn’t alone in this.

Not that she was going to wait around for him to realize that. As she worked at putting air into her lungs and waited for the feeling to return to her extremities, she realized the pillows were gone. Her lamp leaned drunkenly against one wall. The blankets and sheets had disappeared and the fitted sheet had been pulled loose, lying twisted and damp beneath them.

The only thing moving was Joe’s hand, slowly stroking up and down her damp back as she continued to struggle to regain her breath and some semblance of control. Only when she was clearly relaxed, boneless, and very near a pleasure coma in fact, did he go for his phone.

When he did, she pulled the blanket off the floor to cover herself. Joe glanced over at her, clearly amused by her sudden modesty. But as he listened to a message, his smile faded.

“What?” she asked when he’d disconnected.

He didn’t answer, just began pulling on his clothes.

She sat up. “Joe.”

He paused with only his jeans on, low-slung and sexy even now. “Remember the cowboy apprentice, Eric?” he asked.

“Of course. What did he want?”

Joe looked pained.

She stared at him. “Joe.”

“He found the imposter’s card. He’s got a number for the guy.”