“She never answered the question.”

“Evaded it, charmingly.” He scooped potatoes he’d chipped and boiled out of the pot with a slotted spoon, dumped them in the frying pan. Grease snapped and sizzled. “She’s clever.”

“Part of me wants to pin her down, and the other part wants to watch it all evolve. I know there’s no harm in her.”

“Then the evolution might be more interesting. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. In fact, great. You?”

“The same.”

To keep busy, Sasha unwrapped the second—and last—round of bread, began to slice some for toast. “It looks like it’ll be a good day for hiking, though if we’re going to be exploring caves I guess it doesn’t matter much. I didn’t pack a flashlight—never thought of it, but—”

The knife clattered on the table as Bran spun her around.

“What—”

“Last night wasn’t enough.”

His mouth took hers. Then came the whirlwind.

Not the almost brotherly brush of lips, but a long, deep possession that spun everything she was into greed and need. For an instant, the storm blew in, all whipping wind, roaring thunder, and that bold, bright flash of lightning.

She wanted to leap into it, ride it, no matter where it took her.

But the risk, and the pain. She already knew the pain, knew it could shatter her beyond repair.

She pressed a hand to his chest, and he gave her a breath. His eyes—and she swore she saw worlds, wild worlds, swirling behind them—locked on hers.

“We’re a team,” she managed, and the hot, dangerous glint shifted into what might have been humor.

“That we are, fáidh, but you’re the only one I want for this.”

He lifted her to her toes and took her again.

He hadn’t been able to pry her out of his mind, to drain this singular desire out of his blood. There were countless reasons he should resist, to keep her as friend and teammate only. And only one reason to ignore all the rest.

That simple touch of lips the night before had lit something in him. He wanted to see how hot it might burn.

And she called to him, her wounded and courageous heart. Surely there was purpose there.

But beyond purpose, beyond reason, the fire burned.

“Oh, hell.”

He eased back at Riley’s voice, but kept his eyes on Sasha’s as Riley wandered in, Apollo happily at her heels.

“I figured you’d circle around that for at least another day or two.” She went straight to the coffee, grabbed a mug. “If you want privacy, try one of the bedrooms.” She poured her coffee, all but inhaled the first sip. “I’ll take the dog—the care and feeding thereof. And I nominate the new girl for chicken duty. Beginning after coffee. When’s breakfast?”

“Shortly.” Bran ran his hands down from Sasha’s shoulders, along her arms, then stepped back to the stove to put the pan he’d had the wit to take off the flame back again.

“Good. Starved.”