He should have looked ridiculous in that outfit. Somewhere between a cowboy and a Disney prince. But on him? It just works. Like he was born to wear it, nothing fake, definitely not a costume.

That he makes the move this time gets her pulse racing the way she likes. The way she wants. She gets to choose this and she gets to decide and even though sex isn't love and it isn't even friendship, it's something. Something she can live with, as long as it lasts, and then walk away from when it's done. It's safe and it's dangerous at the same time. Familiar danger.

She kisses him back and lets her hands roam across his chest, down his stomach, fingers hovering just above one of the guns. But she doesn't touch.