The lock clicked.
Aria pushed his coat off his shoulders. Damien caught it before it fell, took the gun from the inside pocket, and laid it on the desk beside the biscuit tin.
Then he looked at her.
She went for the buttons of his shirt. Her fingers were still shaking. She got two open and fumbled the third.
His hand closed over both of hers.
"Aria."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"So make it stop."
He held her eyes for one breath. Then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.
He kissed her hard, the way he had wanted to in the van. She gripped his wrists and kissed him back, and when his tongue slid against hers, she made a low sound against his mouth.
He walked her backward until the edge of the bed hit the backs of her knees. He peeled her coat off, and her hair spilled out of the collar where he had tucked it. He wound it around his fist and tipped her head back.
"I've wanted to do that since the florist," he said against her throat.
