"Rest." He pulls me against his chest, and I go willingly, too tired to resist. "Then we'll order food. Talk. Figure out what the fuck this is between us."
I press my face against his skin, breathing in his leather and motor oil odor. "What if we can't figure it out?"
"Then we'll figure it out while I'm balls deep inside you." His hand smooths over my hip. "Because I'm not letting you go, officer. Not now that I know what you taste like. What you feel like. How perfectly that pussy fits around my cock."
Heat floods through me despite my exhaustion. "I'm a cop."
"I know." His voice is quiet. "And I still hate cops. But you?" His lips brush my forehead. "You, I might be able to make an exception for."
It's not a declaration of love. Not even close. But it's something. A crack in his armor. A possibility that maybe we can make this work.
"I need to know why you hate them so much," I say. "Why you hate the badge."
"Later." His arms tighten around me. "Right now, just rest. Let me hold you."
I close my eyes, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. My body is sore, full of his cum, marked by his hands. And I've never felt safer.
This is insane. I lost my virginity to a criminal. Let him fuck me raw and fill me with his seed. Fell into bed with someone who represents everything I should stay away from.
But I don't regret it. Not one second.
Whatever this is between us—hate, lust, something more—I want to explore it. I want to understand him. I want to find a way to bridge the gap between his world and mine.
Even if it destroys me in the process.
Chapter 10 - Rookie
I have no idea what's happening between us.
Amanda's pressed against my chest, her breathing evening out as exhaustion takes over. My arms are wrapped around her body, holding her close in a way I've never held anyone before. And it feels... right. Which is fucking terrifying.
This is more than just sex. More than a hate-fuck to get her out of my system. This is passion. Connection. Something real and raw and worth exploring.
If I'm willing to put my hate aside.
But can I? Should I?
She asked me why I hate cops. Wants to understand what made me this way. And maybe telling her will help her realize why I feel like this. Maybe it'll help me understand if we can actually make this work, or if we're just fooling ourselves.
I’m now cuddling. A man like me is fucking cuddling. This is new territory, vulnerability I've spent years avoiding. It's overwhelming, making my chest tight and my thoughts scattered.
I pull out of her embrace, and she makes a small sound of protest.
"Danny?"
I sit up, running a hand through my hair. "You asked why I hate cops."
She sits up too, pulling the sheet around her body. Her green eyes are alert now, focused. "You don't have to tell me if—"
"No." I take a deep breath. "You deserve to know. Especially if we're going to... whatever this is."
She waits, patient and quiet. It makes this easier somehow.
"I had a brother," I start, the words rough in my throat. "Nathan. He was two years older than me. My best friend growing up. We did everything together—sports, school, getting into trouble." A bitter smile crosses my face. "Our parents had plans for us. Nathan was going to be a lawyer. I was going to be an engineer. Nice, respectable careers."
Amanda's hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
"Five years ago, Nathan was working late at a convenience store. Trying to save money for law school." My jaw clenches. "Some asshole came in to rob the place. Nathan gave him everything in the register. Didn't fight back. Did exactly what you're supposed to do."
