Just as she dipped the tea bag into the hot water, someone started pounding on her apartment door like the world was on fire and she had the only bucket of water left. It could only be one of two people and she had a feeling she knew which one it was. Letting out a weary sigh, she moved toward the door to look out the tiny peephole. Cringing, she rocked back onto her heels. Taking a few minutes to gather herself, she ignored the zing of excitement that flew up her spine and considered not answering the door.

​

Maybe he would go away.

​

"I can hear your heart beating Kit-Kat. It's getting faster as I speak."

 

Of course, he could. And he was right, she couldn't help it. Every time she saw him her pulse had a parade up and down her veins. Sadly, fear didn't elicit that particular response. Nor did the anger she tried to project when she flung the door open to see Tristan standing in the hallway.

​

He looked deliciously rumpled after a hard day at the office. The phrase "hard day" had to be used loosely, of course. Though extremely good at what he did, Tristan couldn't be pushed into a deadline or steamrolled into an idea that wasn't his. Not even by Lucy. He worked at his own pace and didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought about it. Stupidly, to Kat, that was part of his appeal.

 

Well, that along with how his loosened tie hung low around his neck and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, displaying the strong column of his throat. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows and she traced the veins in his forearms with her gaze, down to his hands casually placed in his pockets. Catching herself, she jerked her eyes up to his face but that was a mistake. Those wicked, lethal lips titled into a cocky grin and his green eyes sparkled with amusement.

​

Right. Anger. That's what she felt. Aboslutely, she did. She firmed her shoulders and barked at him to prove it. "What are you doing here?"

​

"I told you I'd see you after work when you refused to have lunch with me." His eyes narrowed. "Imagine my surprise when I got to your desk promptly at four o'clock to find you gone. You keep doing that and you're gonna give me a complex."

​

A cowardly move on her part? Maybe. But it had been effective up until a few minutes ago.

 

"Oh, you mean The Great Tristan Kane can actually feel insecure? I wasn't aware that was possible. How did you know where I live, anyway?"

 

He moved forward until he skirted the edge of her doorway.

​

"No, not an inferiority complex," he said, completely ignoring her last question. "More like something to do with aggression and persistence. What is it called when you obsessively pursue someone?"

​

"Being a stalker?"

 

His low chuckle drifted over her body and instinctively she moved closer to the tempting sound.

​

"Yes, that." He lifted his hand to softly run his fingers down her cheek. "Or it could be considered tenacity. If there's something that I want, something as beautiful and rare as you, then there's no way in hell I can let that slide through my fingers. Especially when I know you want me, too."

​

The gentle contact against her skin left goose bumps in its wake and he bent low to graze his lips against hers. "But if you want to run, I'll chase you. We both know that I'll catch you. Just like we both know that you want me to. It'll only be a matter of time before you're mine." He kissed her softly. "Mine to tease." Another kiss. "Mine to taste." A kiss placed on her jaw. "Mine to fuck." He nipped her with his sharp teeth on the way to her earlobe. "And mine to keep."

​