When he was done, Annika opened her eyes. Without looking at her, Hudson got her a towel and brought it over, all business. She stood and wrapped it around herself. Her wet hair dripped onto her shoulders and upper back, soaking into the towel.

She climbed out of the tub and stood there, looking at him. He watched her with the same intensity she’d seen before, focused, alert, but with just the slightest hint of hesitation, like he was holding himself back from what he really wanted to do.

What does he really want to do? The thought made Annika’s knees nearly buckle. She was done with this. She was done with being the only one naked, with him toying with her, with this gradual inching forward toward what they both wanted.

Annika took a breath, and then let the towel fall. She stood completely naked in front of him again. Her knees would knock together if she weren’t holding herself so rigidly. “Your turn,” she said, making it a command.

His eyes roved her body for a full five seconds, dark and hooded, his breathing getting harsher and faster. It was obvious he was hard; he wanted her. He wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. “Are you sure?” he asked, teasing her even now, in this moment, when they were both almost mad with lust. “Any second thoughts about sleeping with the enemy?”

“As long as the truce is still on,” Annika joked, though her voice came out breathy and trembling.

Hudson unbuttoned his shirt slowly, one button at a time, until she could see his pecs and abs. They were as perfect as she remembered; it was like he was sculpted from stone. He shrugged off his shirt, let it fall to the floor, and then reached for his belt.

When he kicked his pants and boxers to the floor, Annika couldn’t help staring. He was … flawless. Every muscle was gorgeous—streamlined and powerful. In the dim ambient lighting of the bathroom, his skin seemed to glow. “How is that, Ms. Dev? Am I to your satisfaction?” His eyes studied her reaction.

Annika walked forward, into his arms, running her hands over the planes and contours of his body, feeling the toned hardness of his muscles. A groan left his lips at her touch, first feather-light and then more intense, more desiring, greedy.

“I think you’ll do, Mr. Craft.”

When she reached between them to feel his hardness in her hands, he brought his mouth to hers in a devouring, all-consuming kiss.

There had never been a kiss like this. Never before had she been held this way, with passion and gentleness and roughness and caressing, with heat and fire and confidence. When his hand reached between them to slip between her legs and finish what he’d started, Annika closed her eyes, letting her head fall back.