“Open your eyes,” I command. “Look at me.”
He does, and the raw need I see there takes my breath away. “Liv,” he breathes, his voice ragged. “God, Liv.”
I ride him harder, faster, chasing my own pleasure even as I watch his. His hands are everywhere, on my breasts, my hips, then my ass, gripping me, guiding me, and urging me on. The friction builds, a delicious tension that coils deep within me.
“I'm close,” I pant, my rhythm becoming erratic.
“Me too,” he grunts, his hips bucking up to meet my thrusts.
The combination is too much. I spiral into another orgasm with a cry that's even less intelligible than the last one. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me breathless and trembling. He follows me over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips jerking as he finds his own release.
We collapse together, a tangle of limbs, sweat, and satisfaction. I'm boneless and sated, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface of my contentment.
I roll off him, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling. The post-orgasm bliss is already fading, replaced by the reality of our situation.
“You ran my DNA, Alex,” I condemn, my voice flat. “You violated my trust.”
He turns onto his side, propping his head on his hand to look at me. “I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “And I'm sorry. I was worried about you, Liv. I needed to know if you were in more danger than we realized.”
“That's not your decision to make,” I say, turning to face him. “My life, my past, and my choices. They're mine, not yours.”
“I know,” he repeats, his expression serious. “And it won't happen again. I swear.”
I want to believe him. I do believe him. But the hurt is still there, raw and fresh. “I need time,” I say finally. “I need... space.”
He nods, his expression understanding. “Whatever you need, Liv. Just... don't shut me out. Please.”
I don't promise anything. I can't. But as I lie there in the aftermath, I know that walking away from him is the last thing I want to do. He's under my skin, in my blood, and I'm not sure I'll ever be free of him.
The question is, do I even want to be?
Chapter 41
Alex
You don’t notice patterns when you’re comfortable. You notice them when something feelsoff. And lately, everything feels off.
It starts small, it always does.
A car that lingers a little too long at the edge of a block. A call that routes just slightly outside the normal pattern. A face that shows up twice where it shouldn’t show up at all.
Individually, they don’t mean anything. But together, they start to form a shape. And I don’t like the shape they’re forming.
I’m standing in the bullpen, staring at the board, but I’m not really seeing it. Not the photos, not the notes, nor the web of connections we’ve been building for weeks.
I’m seeing her schedule. I’ve memorized it without meaning to. The shift blocks, rotation patterns, and days off.
I tell myself it’s strategic, that knowing where she is helps me keep her safe. But the truth is I just know. Because I pay attention. Because I always have. And now, that attention is catching things I can’t ignore.
“She ran two late shifts back-to-back this week?” Mason’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I don’t look at him right away. “Yeah,” I say.
“That normal?”
I shrug slightly. “Not really,” I admit.
That’s the thing, none of this isreallyabnormal. But it’s not exactly normal either. It’s… close, close enough that it doesn’t raise alarms. Unless you’re already looking. And I am.
