I close my eyes for a second, the weight of that settling deep in my chest. Choosing him doesn’t just mean choosing a man. It means choosing uncertainty. Risk. A life where danger isn’t hypothetical. And yet, when I imagine walking away—going back to clean lines and safe choices and men my parents would approve of—it feels like a lie. Like shrinking myself to fit a version of happiness that’s never quite enough.
Like choosing a life without love.
“I don’t want to stop seeing you,” I say. “Even knowing everything you’ve told me. Even knowing what risk your name carries.”
He lets out a slow, relieved breath, like he’s been holding it. “That’s all I need to hear.”
“It doesn’t mean I accept everything,” I add quickly. “It doesn’t mean I’m okay with violence or secrecy or being kept in the dark. If this continues—” I gesture between us, “—I need honesty. Real honesty. No half truths.”
“You’ll get it,” he says without hesitation.
“And I need you to try all legal avenues first before you go mad and start acting all mafia on me.” I should stop here. Should put distance between us and let my head catch up to my heart. Instead, I feel myself drifting closer, drawn by the heatof him, the gravity he seems to exert without even trying. The tension between us shifts, thickens, turning from sharp edges into something heavier, slower, more dangerous.
“I don’t know where this leads,” I whisper.
Neither does he. I can see it in his eyes. The fear of losing me wars with something darker, possessive and feral, and for the first time, I understand that loving Stephen means standing right at the edge of that line with him.
He lifts a hand, stopping just short of touching my face, giving me the chance to pull away. I don’t. My skin hums where he almost brushes me, my body responding long before my mind can catch up.
I don’t know if the madness he makes me feel will ever go away, but right now I know I can’t lose what we have. I cannot lose him either.
“I need you to know,” I say, my voice barely steady, “that wanting you doesn’t mean I’ll abandon who I am. I won’t stop being a lawyer. I won’t stop believing in the law or trying to make you see that my way is the right way to move through life.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” he murmurs. “I want all of you. Even the parts that challenge me. We all try to be better men, Dallen, but old habits are hard to break. Harder still when some don’t play by the rules society lives by.”
That’s what breaks the last of my resistance. Not the words themselves, but the way he says them, like he understands precisely what he’s asking of me and is willing to pay the price. I step into him, closing the space between us, my hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms.
I’m not in love. Not yet. But I know this much with brutal clarity: I’m not walking away.
And when his hands finally settle on my hips, firm and warm and grounding, when his forehead dips to rest against mine, Iknow I’m choosing danger and choosing desire and choosing a man who could ruin me just as easily as he could protect me.
And I let him.
I wakein Stephen's bed, my legs tangled about the sheets. For a moment, I'm not sure where I am, before reality comes crashing down around my shoulders. Not regret—just the weight of knowing I’m crossing a line I can never uncross. I made a choice today, one that I know my parents would disapprove of, and perhaps my old self as well. The girl who follows is gone. I can't live in the past, let fears for the unknown, for possibilities that may never come true, dictate my life. Life is for the living, and I want to see where my relationship with Stephen can go, even if it means stepping into something dangerous, even if it changes me forever.
He’s a bad boy with a dark past and possibly a shady future, but one who I know is trying to right the wrongs of his family's history and correct his own urges that lead him astray. And maybe that struggle is what draws me to him most—the effort, the restraint, the cost written all over him. His bloodied hands and bruised jaw from his fight tonight are just one example.
I frown, realizing that I haven’t asked him whom he fought. Is it some random guy in a bar or someone he knows? Someone from the world he warns me about? Someone who reminds me how real the danger is?
A knot forms in my stomach, and I turn my head to watch him. He’s asleep on his back, one arm lazily lying above his head. He looks so untouchable, and in truth, I don’t feel like I have the right to lie next to someone who looks like a god. Or maybe I don’t feel worthy of how fiercely he wants me.
Yes, I may be a little hooked on his deadly appearance, but damn, he makes me crave. All. The. Damn. Time. Wanting him feels reckless—and I’ve never been impetuous before.
I drink in the sight of his chest, his chiseled abdomen, his hip, and lower still. The sheet isn’t covering him, and his cock lies flaccid on his leg. I roll onto my side and reach out, running one finger along his dick, watching it as it twitches, even in sleep. This isn’t just desire—it’s curiosity, power, choice.
Before I can stop myself, I kneel beside him and clasp his manhood. He hardens in my hands, and I stroke him, watching with amazement how much he grows. He’s so very clever with his appendage, and oh boy, does he know how to use it… And I want to learn him the way he’s learned me.
“Are you going to keep observing my dick or are you going to put that pretty little mouth of yours on me and make me come?”
I jump at Stephen’s words, having not realized that he’s awake. Heat kisses my chest, and I’m glad for the darkness of the room so he can’t see my embarrassment. Or how pleased I am that I do this to him. “Do you want me to put your dick in my mouth?”
I lick my lips, unable to hide my smile when he growls a response. “You know I do.”
“Well then, I'd better not disappoint you.” I bend down, and for the first time in my life, I suck a man’s dick. He’s like velvet, yet with a rod of steel that presses down my throat. I suck him, use my tongue to tease while I attempt to pretend to be an expert. I’m not confident—but I’m willing. And that feels just as intoxicating.
“That’s it, take all of me. Suck my dick and be a good girl.” His fingers tangle into my hair, and he guides me, presses me down. His cock touches the back of my throat, and I try not to gag, but he’s so big. And instead of fear, there’s trust—complete and reckless.
“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let me fuck your face.”
