Jake had already disappeared into the back room, his phone pressed to his ear.
After all, what could possibly be wrong? She had everything she'd ever wanted—her grandmother's bakery, her small-town life, and a man who looked at her like she was magic.
The scentof cinnamon and sugar still clung to Hannah's skin as she backed through the door of her apartment, fingers tangled in Jake's shirt, pulling him with her.
His mouth was on hers before she could take another breath, hot and demanding, his hands framing her face like he was trying to hold her together—like he was trying to hold onto her.
"Jesus, sweetheart," he rasped against her lips, kicking the door shut behind them. "You're gonna ruin me."
She laughed, breathless, as his hands slid to her hips, lifting her off the floor like she weighed nothing. "I think we both know who's in charge here."
Jake groaned, carrying her toward the bedroom in long, purposeful strides. His lips trailed along the curve of her jaw, down the column of her throat, where he lingered.
His hands gripped her—fingers pressing into her thighs. The flex of his muscles beneath her palms had her melting.
He lowered her onto the bed, following her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress. "You're always running around, keeping busy," he murmured, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. "Always taking care of everyone else."
She arched against him, fingers pushing into his hair. "And you take care of me."
Something flickered behind his eyes—something raw—before he ducked his head and pressed his mouth to hers again, swallowing whatever words had just died on his lips.
It was different tonight.
Still hot, still hungry, but there was an edge to it. A kind of desperation. His hands weren't just exploring her skin—they were claiming it.
He kissed her like he was devouring her, like he needed to get inside her bones.
And Hannah—God help her—let him.
She wanted it. Welcomed it. Met him stroke for stroke, gasping his name as he stripped away her tank top, his mouth following the path of every bare inch of skin he exposed.
"You feel like heaven," he muttered, voice rough with want. His lips traced the edge of her collarbone, teeth scraping just enough to send a shiver through her. "You taste like honey."
She laughed, breathless. "Occupational hazard."
"Sweetheart," he growled, dragging his lips lower. "I want the taste of you all over my face."
A flush of heat surged through her as Jake kissed an achingly deliberate path down her stomach.
"Jake," she gasped, fingers gripping his shoulders.
He shushed her, gently, like she was something fragile. "Let me take my time with you."
And he did.
CHAPTER 2
Jake
Jake watched Hannah sleep,counting her breaths like he could somehow store them away for later. Moonlight spilled through her bedroom window, painting her skin silver, catching on the dark hair spread across his pillow.His pillow. When had he started thinking of it as his?
The same time you started wishing this was real.
She made a soft sound in her sleep, reaching for him. Even unconscious, she trusted him completely. His chest ached.
He heard his burner phone vibrated in the pocket of his discarded jeans.
Jake's jaw clenched. He knew who it was. Knew what they wanted. But for just one more moment, he let himself pretend. Let himself be the man Hannah thought he was—the man who fixed broken things instead of destroying them.
