Kate wandered into the kitchen around nine the next morning. She saw Michael perched on a barstool with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

“See you in a bit.” Michael placed his phone on the kitchen counter. “Hi.”

Why do you have to be so sexy? She moved her tongue over her front teeth, wetting them. She studied his messy bedhead hair and the dark stubble that gave him a rugged, dangerous look. She hoped they could put their close encounter with sex behind them and move on and act normal. But was that possible? She still couldn’t believe she’d broken her rules last night.

“I, um, planned on taking a run this morning, but I figured I wouldn’t be able to get back in the building afterward. Is there a key or code I could have?”

Michael guffawed. “You have got to be kidding.” He rose to his feet.

She took a nervous step back as he approached her. “What?”

“You can’t go out alone.”

“I didn’t come here to be a prisoner.” She folded her arms. She was still feeling the bitter taste of rejection. Part of her was angry at him for turning her down, but she was mostly relieved.

“My friend in the FBI will be here tomorrow morning, and I have someone who will be your bodyguard starting tomorrow, as well.”

“That’s fast.” Her shoulders sank a bit, and she decided not to argue with him about going for a solo run. He was stubborn and headstrong, and also trying to protect her. He was right not to let her go. She sighed. Why was he helping her, anyway?

“We’ll get this straightened out and soon.”

Kate walked over to his espresso machine. “Is this for coffee?” Puzzled, she turned toward Michael, her eyes pleading.

“What would you like?”

“Just coffee.”

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a white mug. He pressed a few buttons on the machine, and warm black liquid began pouring into her cup.

“Thanks.”

He nodded and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You shouldn’t dress like that when you’re around me,” he said in a throaty voice.

She dropped her unopened sugar packet on the counter and whipped around to look at him. “Like what?” She looked down at her clothes, confused. She was wearing pink stretch pants and a white tank top. What was the big deal? “I’m in workout clothes.”

“Well, you look hot.”

More mind games? What the hell?

He cleared his throat. “If you want to run, you can use my gym.” He broke his gaze and motioned for her to follow. “I rarely use it. I belong to a gym near the office, but it should have what you need.”

She grabbed her coffee and followed Michael out of the kitchen and down a different hall, the one that led to his bedroom.

“I converted a guest bedroom into a workout room a few months ago, in case I ever felt like working out at home. Although I haven’t used it much.” He pushed the door open, and she was pleased by the amount of equipment the room had to offer. There was a treadmill, elliptical, bike, rower, large punching bag, and a speed bag, as well as a full set of free weights. Two large and long windows allowed in plenty of natural light, which brightened up the room.

“This should work.” She took a sip of her coffee and realized she’d forgotten to sweeten it.

“Make sure you eat before you exercise.”

She nodded.

“I have some work to do in my office. I’ll be in the room next door if you need anything,” he remarked as he walked back out into the hall.

“Um, Michael. Thanks. Thanks for helping me with my problem.” She gulped. “I don’t think I said that, did I?”

“Well, now you have,” he said. “It’s no problem, but, uh seriously, if you have some less sexy workout clothes . . . and more modest pajamas, for that matter . . .”

A smile snuck up on her. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Michael left, and she went back to the kitchen to grab a piece of toast and sugar for her coffee. While dumping the sugar into her mug, she remembered that her father was expecting her home tomorrow. She had texted him before the ball that she would be returning home and had no plans on coming back to Charlotte. What would she tell him now? She couldn’t tell him about her stalker. He would demand that she return home, and if she said no, he would fly down and drag her back to New York.

Then again, wouldn’t she be safer in New York? Or was Michael right?

“Kate?”

Michael came up behind her in the kitchen and she turned to face him. “I have to leave. I have to take an emergency call with the DoD.”

“Department of Defense?”

He nodded. “I can’t do it here, or else I would. I may be gone all day. I need you to promise me that you will not leave the house, under any circumstances.”

“Yes. I’ll stay here,” she mumbled and brought her coffee to her lips.

“I have security cameras inside the place. I don’t want to have to turn them on.”

“What? Can you see in my room?” She set her coffee down and crossed her arms.

“No. They’re only in the main living areas. And they only work if I activate them. So . . . don’t make me activate them.”

“No way. I don’t need another person spying on me.”

“I would feel better knowing that I could check up on you from anywhere,” he mused. Then he shook his head. “Please, just don’t leave. I can’t be on a call with the government talking about ISIS and—”

“Wow. You’re helping the government with ISIS? That’s a bit intense.” She tilted her head and looked down at the floor, realizing her problems were rather minuscule in the grand scheme of things.

“Be good and stay here,” he said. “There are cold cuts in the fridge. Help yourself to lunch, and I’ll bring some Thai food back with me for dinner.”

“Thanks.” Once he was out of sight, she glanced down at her drink, no longer hungry or thirsty.

She needed to run. Do yoga. Do something to distract herself before she lost her sanity altogether.

* * *

“We need you back. At the very least, we need you out in the field to train the men directly. We appreciate that you’ve been helping out at Camp Lejeune, but we need more from you. Your country needs you,” General McKinsey said, leaning back in his chair.

Michael stared at the general, whose image and audio was live-streamed via the secure internet at the office. He tried not to betray his shock. He looked down at the pen he was tapping and let it go. “I need some time to think about it.”

“I know you left because of your injuries, but—”

“That’s not why I left. I left because my family couldn’t handle the pain of worrying about me anymore.” That, and because I just don’t know if I can kill again . . . and stay sane. He shifted in his seat and ran his hands through his hair.

“Your family needs to understand that you’re keeping them safe with your time in the service.”

“I’ll think about it.” He glanced over at the family portrait that he had taken with his parents at Hilton Head. “I’ll be in touch.” He ended the call and hung his head low.

They had spent hours discussing military tactics in relation to his intelligence designs, which were currently used to locate terrorist cells. Then bam! The old man had tried to rope him back into service. It wasn’t enough for him to be one of the leading experts in observation technology—what his sister called spy shit—they wanted him back in the Middle East, too.

I can’t think about this right now, he decided. He checked the clock. It was already close to six. He dialed up his favorite Thai place and preordered the food before leaving the office. He had left Kate alone for far too long.

He called her name as he walked into his living room, but there was no answer. Panic had begun to grip his throat, but he noticed a flash of blonde hair on the balcony. He set the bags of food down on the coffee table and walked toward the double glass doors to the terrace. “Kate.”

She rose from the lounge chair. “Hi.”

“I thought we agreed you would stop dressing like that.” He was joking. Well, sort of.

His eyes combed over her white shorts and yellow halter top. “Okay. You need to get your eyes checked,” she teased. “I am completely covered.”

“I think a baggy T-shirt would be good,” he said, eyeing her chest. “And loose-fitting pants. Maybe a pair of my sweats.” He grinned at her.

“Well, that’s not going to happen.” She clasped her hands together and peeked inside the house. “You bring food?”

“Yeah, I got sushi, Pad Thai, and Red Curry Chicken. I remembered that you like spice.” He smiled again as she walked past him and into the house. His eyes followed the sway of her hips as she moved.

Stop. He shut his eyes for a moment, hoping to quell his desire for her, and he took in a deep breath and stepped inside. He looked over at Kate as she sat down on his couch, and he reached for the remote to turn on the radio.

“Lady Gaga’s Poker Face?” A smile slipped to her lips.

Michael was about to change the channel but stopped when he saw the bright look in Kate’s eyes. “You like this song?”

“Just reminds me of playing poker with you.” She was beaming, which he preferred to sulky and depressed. Most people would have tended toward the latter if they had a shadow creeping after them.

He set the remote down, leaving the song playing, and he took a seat next to her. He watched her shut her eyes and move her shoulders a bit. There was no way he’d survive the week.

They dipped back into their food, and he tried to ignore the odd feelings that swirled inside his gut.

“How’d your call go?” Kate asked a few minutes later.

He looked at her as he brought a piece of sushi to his mouth. After he had finished chewing, he responded, “It went well, but there’s only so much I can do from here. It’s hard to help when I’m not out in the field.”

“I don’t get it. Why do you need to be in the field? Can’t you just make the technology here?”

“Sometimes they need a little guidance in the field, with use and installation. Especially right now, with this new platform I’ve built.” He paused. “They want me back.”

Kate froze. She placed her chopsticks on her paper plate and looked up at him.

“I don’t know what to do. I got out after I was injured because my family begged me not to sign up for another tour of duty, but I feel so guilty about not being more involved. I feel like I could help so much more if I were at least there to assist with the reconnaissance missions. ISIS is getting out of control. Something has to be done.” He stared at his food in a daze.

“But you’ve built a life here. People need you. The veterans need you. You’re helping so many.” She paused for a moment. “And you were shot. I don’t think going back is a good idea.”

“You don’t know me.” His eyes landed back on hers, and he grimaced.

“I know that your sister loves and adores you. She needs you.” She kept her eyes on his.

“A lot of people need me. Our country needs me. At least that’s what the general just said.”

“You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know you want to save people, but you can’t save everyone. It’s not your responsibility.”

He looked away from her and rubbed his hand over his clenched jaw. Why had he even said anything to her? He never opened up to anyone, not even his sister. What the hell was wrong with him? “Listen, can we drop it? I’m sorry I got so tense.” He rose to his feet and picked up his almost empty plate.

“Fine,” she snapped. She closed up the containers with leftover food and brought them into the kitchen.

“Wine?” he asked when she entered.

“Um, sure.”

He poured a German Riesling into two large Riedel glasses. He offered her one and leaned against the counter in his usual stance. He pushed one hand into his jeans pocket while bringing the cool, crisp liquid to his mouth with the other.

Kate sat on a nearby barstool, and her eyes scanned the length of him as if assessing his mood. “Should I leave you alone?”

He looked over at Kate, studying her tanned and shapely legs. “No.”

“So, where’d Julia have to go this time?”

Finally, something he could talk about with ease. “L.A. Her flight left this morning.”

“Um, does she know about me being here?”

“I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Good. Thank you.”

He wasn’t exactly itching to tell his sister that Kate was staying at his place. He knew she’d freak.

“So, your friend will be here tomorrow? And the bodyguard, as well?”

“Yeah. The sooner this is over with, the better.”

“I hate to be such a burden. I can stay at a hotel starting tomorrow since I’ll have a bodyguard.”

She had taken his words the wrong way. “No. Hell, no. You’re staying with me.” He walked over and stood in front of her. “I didn’t mean that I wanted to get you out of my house. I want the creep caught, so you’re safe.” He tilted his head and stared into her eyes, which were a little more green today than blue. “Of course, you being here is a challenge for me.” Pure temptation.

“You’re the one who turned me down,” she reminded him.

He touched her face with the back of his hand and set his wine glass down. His heart hammered in his chest as the proximity to her almost filled the void inside him. But she was off limits.

He quickly removed his hand from her cheek and picked up his wine, taking a step back. “So, how about them Yankees?” he echoed her joke from their first dinner together.

“Red Sox, remember?” She raised her eyebrows as her eyes widened. “You never fail to surprise me.” And then her face changed. “Please, don’t go back to the Middle East.”

Instead of responding, he poured more wine into his glass and left the kitchen.

He couldn’t think about the desert right now. The men he’d lost. The people he’d killed.

“Michael, wait. I’m sorry.”

Outside now, he leaned against the railing, looking down at the city sprawled below. So many people were off enjoying their lives, with little idea of how dark the world could really be. He’d be damned if he wasn’t sick of the darkness.

But when he looked at Kate, she was like this bright orb glowing. She was pure. Real. And it scared the hell out of him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I may not know you well like you said, but you don’t know me, either, and that hasn’t stopped you from trying to protect me. So why can’t you understand that I want to help you?” she said over his shoulder, her fingers splaying over the center of his back.

“Your life is worth saving. Mine’s not.” It was the truth. The things he’d done—witnessed. There was no forgetting. No redemption. Memories of the fallen would always haunt him—from his friends who’d died to the lives he’d taken. Maybe the people he had killed were enemies of the state, but wasn’t it still murder?

“Why would you think that? Clearly, you’re needed. What good would you be dead?”

He faced her in one quick movement, his hand slipping to her wrist, holding it tight. His jaw strained as the past pulled at him. “I should’ve died in Afghanistan, Kate.” He heaved out a deep breath and released his grip. “Almost my entire platoon died. I shouldn’t have survived,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know what happened, but you’re here for a reason.” She placed her hand on his forearm, not backing down, even though he was doing his best to scare her away. “How many lives have you saved since that day? With the technology you’ve designed . . . how many people are alive because of it?”

Michael gripped Kate’s shoulders and pulled her against him. He slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with an intense fierceness, a desperate need. But it was also a punishing kiss—forceful with anger that she’d made him remember, made him feel . . .

He felt a slight tremble in her body, and he pulled away.

“Michael,” she whispered.

His eyes widened just slightly before he tore off the balcony without another word.

It was for the best. The sooner she came to terms with the fact that he was a prick, the better.

* * *

The sound came as a shock to her. It started slow and guttural, but it grew louder.

Kate left her bedroom and went to the living room, searching for the noise that had awakened her from her dreams.

He was screaming.

A blood-curdling yell.

Kate picked up her pace and ran to Michael’s room. She opened his door without thinking and darted to the bed. Tangled in his sheets, his naked body jerked in convulsive movements.

He was having a nightmare. Jesus.

“Michael,” she whispered his name, afraid to startle him.

No response.

He continued to flail on the bed.

She moved toward him and sat on the edge of the bed. She touched his chest and said his name again, a little louder.

And then she was on the floor. Breathless. And he was on top of her, his weight punishing her chest, making it difficult to breathe. His eyes were dark and unrecognizable. “Michael, please.”

Realization must have hit him; he jumped off. “What the hell?” he mumbled.

He kneeled down and helped her off the floor, scooping her into his powerful arms and set her on his bed. “Shit. Are you okay?” He brushed the back of his hand down her cheek, standing naked before her.

It took her a moment to process everything. One minute she was trying to help him, and the next she’d been pinned beneath him. “I’m okay,” she lied.

“What happened?”

“You were having a nightmare, I assume. I heard you all the way from my room. I tried to wake you.”

“I’m so sorry.” He sat beside her and reached for her hand, but she jerked it away. She couldn’t even look at him. His body was hard—rock hard. And glistening with sweat. Greek gods had nothing on this man.

He rose to his feet and grabbed a pair of boxers from his dresser.

Kate attempted to rise to her feet. Her knees buckled, and she sat back down.

“I thought your room was far enough away so that I wouldn’t wake you.” He leaned against the nearby wall, placing some distance between them.

“Does this happen often?” she asked as her eyes landed on his hard chest, and she tried not to obsess over the scars there.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

She attempted to flex the muscles in her legs. Would they hold her if she tried to stand again? “What are the nightmares about?” she pushed.

His eyes narrowed. “I said that I don’t want to talk about it.”

The grit in his voice should have served to her as a warning—leave him the hell alone. The man was cold, bitter, and angry.

But she ignored the warnings in her head and rose, crossing the room to where he stood.

Kate reached out and touched his chest, and his pectoral muscles flinched beneath her fingers. Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed the bullet wound near his heart.

His hands came down over her forearms as if he were trying to push her away from him.

But she resisted. Instead, her fingertips glided over his six-pack, and then she brushed her lips over another scar. “I want to take your pain away,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes.

He stared at her for a beat, and then lifted her up and carried her to the bed. His gaze was intense, focused. It burned through her as he laid her down.

“Michael.”

He joined her in bed, and he gently pulled her on top of him. He cupped both sides of her face and brought her lips to his.

She moaned against his mouth, and he parted his lips, his tongue dipping inside—twining with hers. Her body rubbed up against his, and she hated the feel of her clothes as a barrier to his skin. She wanted to be naked. To have his skin touching hers—she needed to feel him. She couldn’t lose this moment.

Their lips parted as he grabbed the hem of her tank top and lifted it. She sat up a little, her groin pressing against his erection, her center throbbing as her breasts became tight and heavy beneath his stare.

He cupped her breasts as she lowered back down, her mouth running over his jawline, down the side of his throat.

The feel of his thumbs hooking each side of her shorts had her gasping, and she pushed back up to help him rid her body of them.

She stood in front of him, and he sat up, resting on his elbows as he stared into her eyes. His gaze was steady on hers, even though she was naked before him. He was the one sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

Suddenly he rose and lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs tight around his hips. Supporting her weight with one hand, he pressed a palm to her collarbone and then spread his fingers up to the base of her throat. He gently tossed her back, and she landed on the plush comforter.

She sucked in a breath and eyed the man before her. He was toned and beautiful, rugged and strong.

She was going to break her rules. Damn her plans.

Michael’s eyes smoldered with lust as he shoved his boxers off, freeing his hard length. “Are you on the pill?” he asked with a throaty voice.

“Yes, but I always use protection.”

He gripped his shaft, barely taking his eyes off her as he grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer. After, he unrolled it down his hard shaft and placed a knee on the bed, his hand above her shoulder. He slowly lowered himself over her, his hand sliding to her smooth center. She was so damn wet. She moaned and bucked her hips when he slid two fingers inside of her.

He rubbed his thick fingers there for a minute until her nipples hardened with want. Then he positioned himself on top of her, and she released a pent-up breath as he eased into her, resting his hands on either side of her body.

He held himself up and looked into her eyes as he edged himself inside of her—it had been so long since she’d had sex—it was almost painful at first. She inhaled a sharp breath, but then relaxed against him as she took every inch of him. He fit inside of her like she’d been made for him—at least it sure as hell felt that way at the moment.

Their breathing became more rapid as their bodies moved together. The feelings of pleasure he elicited with each and every touch, with every thrust, had her spiraling out of control.

It was ecstasy.

Sex with Michael was sheer bliss—a precipitous climb that resulted in the most amazing orgasm she had ever experienced.

Once her desire was satiated, he began to move faster, which heightened her already raw body to feel entirely new sensations.

After a few more minutes, he groaned and bowed his head in release.

He rolled to his side, a lazy smile on his face, looking drunk with satisfaction. He pulled her against his sweaty body, tightening his grip on her waist.

“Oh, are we done?” She drew her eyebrows together into a false pout. God, this was so not like her—and it felt so damn good.

“Give me a few minutes, and I promise you there’ll be more.” He pressed his mouth to hers and lifted her on top of him.

* * *

Kate woke a few hours later to find the bed empty. They’d had a marathon of sex, and she must have fallen asleep after. Sex with Michael had proven spectacular and addictive.

The night had been amazing—what she needed to take her mind off the heavy stuff.

But, when she had decided to sleep with him—well, more like her body had told her mind to pull over and let it drive for a while—she knew that she would need to accept him as he was.

And that meant accepting that he would be rid of her soon. Maybe he was already done with her, which should’ve been fine—she didn’t want anything heavy, either. Hell, maybe she needed to rethink her rules. Maybe casual sex was the solution to staying out of a serious relationship while she was building her career.

But thinking about Michael sleeping around created an unwelcome tightness in her chest, and that was a pretty strong indicator that Kate wasn’t really up for casual sex. Sleeping with Michael had been incredible, but now her heart would pay the price.

She stepped out of his mammoth bed and retrieved her silk tank top and shorts from the floor, wanting to find him and assess his mood.

She walked down the hall in search of him.

Michael was standing out on his balcony, dressed only in a pair of sweats despite the slight chill of the September night. Her breath caught in her throat as he turned toward her. In spite of her drowsy soreness, she found herself growing hot with desire just looking at him.

She doubted any woman would ever get enough of that man. He was gorgeous, and yet there was so much more to him than that. But he didn’t want anyone to see—he didn’t want to let anyone on the inside. Those emotions trapped inside of him—she’d felt them, with every thrust. It was like he was sharing himself with her in the most pure and honest way he could since they’d met.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Michael was hurting. But why? Because of what happened when he was in the military? The people he lost?

The shadow of the moon was cast down on him, making him look somehow unreal. His chest moved with each slow breath. She noticed for the first time his slight dusting of chest hair and the dark trail of hair at his navel. His five o’clock shadow from yesterday had grown even darker.

“Are you okay?” she asked upon approach. Her shoulders sagged a little as she rubbed her arms, feeling a bit cold, and waited for him to reply.

“Yeah.”

She closed the gap between them and rested her hand on his forearm. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not great at sharing a bed.” He looked away from her and fixed his gaze on the hotel across the street. Was he worried about the nightmares?

“Michael, I always tell my half-brother—well, brother, I mean. I hate when people call him my ‘half’ as if he is less of a brother because we have different moms . . . A brother is a brother, right? Well, I always encourage him to talk about what he’s going through when deployed—he shouldn’t keep things locked up.” She raised her right shoulder and released a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m nervous. But maybe you could try talking about—”

“You don’t need to be nervous with me, Kate.”

She wasn’t going to come away from this unscathed . . . was she?

Michael cleared his throat and stepped back, turning away from her. “You should get some rest, Kate.” He was closing himself off. Of course, what else did he do when things got real?

She looked over as his hands swept up to the railing. He gripped it and bowed his head forward, and she noticed the muscles in his back tense.

“If you change your mind about talking, well, I can be a friend. I can listen,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice.

Without turning around, he answered, “I have enough friends, Kate. But thanks.”

And like that, the icy mask slid back into place, and the Man of Steel was back.