It was wild. It was reckless. It was real.
Her body tightened, coiling, winding, pleasure climbing higher, pushing her to the edge. Jake felt it too—his movements turned more frantic, more erratic, his grip bruising as he chased the same peak.
"Jake," she gasped, clinging to him.
"I'm right here, sweetheart," he groaned. "Come with me. Let go—I've got you."
And she did.
Pleasure shattered through her, white-hot, her body pulsing around him. Jake gave a low, wrecked moan, driving into her once, twice—then stilling, his whole body trembling.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, their heavy breaths the only sound in the room.
Jake pressed a kiss to her temple, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.
She traced her fingers over his damp skin, her heart pounding.
Carefully, she tilted her head, looking up at him. His eyes were closed, his chest still rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.
"Jake?" she whispered.
He stilled. Then, slowly, his eyes opened.
For the briefest second, something flashed in his gaze—fear, maybe. Panic. But then it was gone, replaced by something softer, something unbearably raw.
He swallowed. "Yeah?"
Her heart squeezed.
She could push. She could make him say it—make him admit it when he wasn't inside her.
But something about the way he was holding her, the way his arms were still wrapped around her so tightly, like he was afraid to let go—it told her everything she needed to know.
So instead, she just kissed him.
Soft. Sweet.
And when he pulled her into his chest, holding her like she was something precious, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers?—
She let him.
CHAPTER 4
Jake
Jake's footstepsechoed through the empty halls of the Crystal Lake Municipal Building. After 5pm the place was deserted—just a skeleton crew of janitors and the occasional security guard. Perfect for a clandestine meeting about destroying someone's life.
His life, if he was being honest. Because that's what this would do to him too.
The conference room door was already open, spilling fluorescent light into the dim hallway. Inside, Special Agent Martinez stood at the head of the table, surrounded by case files and surveillance photos. Her sharp features were cast in harsh shadows as she looked up from her tablet.
"Cooper." She gestured to the empty chairs. "Shut the door."
He did, then remained standing, hands braced against the back of a chair. His fingers dug into the cheap fabric until his knuckles went white.
"Timeline's moved up," Martinez said, without preamble. "We're moving on Richard Everett tomorrow morning. Seven AM sharp."
The words hit Jake like a physical blow. "Tomorrow? We agreed on next week."
