Code Name: Solace

CHAPTER FOUR

This was the most I'd gotten from him in months.

I closed the distance, hoping he'd hold me.

Instead, he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

"Talk to me, Warren," I pleaded, resting my cheek against his back. "You don't have to carry this alone."

His body finally relaxed. His heart thumped beneath my hands.

We stood there in silence.

Then, he turned and pulled me into his arms.

"Tomorrow, a contractor will come. You'll help him redesign the bathroom and hallway. Was Vincent in any other rooms?"

I frowned. "Why would we need renovations just because he was here?"

Warren didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me—slow, deliberate, like he was trying to erase something.

He kissed the corners of my mouth, before trailing his lips to my cheek. A teasing breath. A lingering touch. And then—back to my willing lips. His hands roamed lower, gripping my ass, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

His mouth coaxed mine open, and I surrendered without hesitation. I craved this—him—more than air, more than sense. A sigh escaped me as his hands kneaded my flesh, as his lips moved in rhythm with mine, deep and consuming.

I moaned against his mouth, pressing into him, chasing the friction of his hard body. Every stroke of his tongue, every press of his hands, wound me tighter, higher. My body trembled, so desperate for more, yet—before I could even whisper his name—I shattered.

The release hit me like a wave, sudden and uncontrollable.

A gasp. A shudder. Oh God.

His grip held me through it, his mouth sliding to my ear.

"Yes, baby, that's it." His voice was thick with approval. "Good girl."

Heat flamed through me, pleasure giving way to mortification. I clung to him, breathless, but as the aftershocks faded, shame crept in.

I had just come from kissing.

I pulled away abruptly, hands flying to my face. "Oh God," I whispered, voice small, humiliated. "I'm sorry."

Tears burned the back of my eyes. How desperate must I seem?

"What are you sorry for?" His voice was steady, calm—like this wasn't completely humiliating. "It's much easier for some pregnant women to finish."

Pregnant. Right. That was the only reason.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, so tender it only made my embarrassment worse. "The contractor is coming tomorrow. Around 11. He'll show you ID from a company called Warewithall." His tone was casual, as if nothing had happened between us, as if I hadn't just fallen apart in his arms. "I'm gonna finish up something, then I'm coming to bed."

That was it?

I blinked at him, searching his face for—something. An afterthought of desire, a trace of the heat we just shared. But the man standing before me was collected, indifferent.

Cold.

"Are you okay? You don't need me to..." I hesitated, flicking my gaze to his pants, feeling even more ridiculous.

But he shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Just like that. No hesitation. No sign that he wanted me the way I wanted him.

I forced a nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Um—okay. Thank you."

His expression didn't shift as he gestured toward the mess in the kitchen. "Why don't you go shower? I'll clean the rest of this up."