Page 15 of The Agent’s Curvy Seduction

I am falling for him.

Not just the way he touches me or the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters. I'm falling for the quiet moments. For burnt toast and shooting lessons and the way he trusts these people enough to bring them into the only safe place we have. I'm falling for the future he started mapping out last night like it was already decided.

It scares the hell out of me.

I've spent seven months keeping everything temporary on purpose. Temporary name. Temporary apartment. Temporary everything. Falling for Hudson Wolfe feels like the opposite of temporary, and the thought of losing it—of losing him—makes my stomach twist.

The visit winds down around midnight. Dash, Finn, and Madelyn head out with promises to check in tomorrow and a quiet exchange of looks with Hudson that tells me they're already part of whatever protective net he's building. When the door closes behind them, the cabin feels fuller somehow. Like they left a piece of belonging behind.

Hudson locks up and turns to me. "You okay?"

“Yeah.” My voice comes out softer than I mean it to. “They’re good people.”

“They are.” He steps closer and rests his hands on my hips. “You’re part of that now, whether you’re ready for it or not.”

I don’t have an answer that doesn’t feel too big, so I just lean into him. He holds me in the quiet kitchen, one hand stroking up and down my back.

Later, in the dark bedroom, I lie awake while Hudson sleeps beside me. His arm is still locked around my waist, his breathing deep and even. I should be exhausted—the adrenaline from the day, the weight of everything he's told me, the reality of what's happening—but instead I'm hyperaware of every point where his body touches mine.

This is what it feels like to have something real. Not the temporary kind of survival I've been practicing for seven months, but actual roots. An actual person who looks at me like I'm worth protecting. A future that's starting to feel possible instead of impossible.

The terrifying part isn't the danger anymore. It's that I'm beginning to believe I might get to keep this. That Hudson might actually be permanent. That I could wake up tomorrow and the next day and the day after that in this cabin, in this bed, with his arms around me like I'm already his.

And if I believe that—if I let myself believe that—then I have something to lose.

The thought should send me running. Instead, I press closer to him in the darkness and realize I'm not going anywhere.

six

. . .

Rhys

I’m hard and already reaching for her. Willow is still asleep, curled on her side with her back against my chest, one of my arms locked around her waist. The early light filters through the trees and lands across her back. I press a kiss to her shoulder until she shifts and makes a soft sound in her throat.

She pushes her ass back against me without fully waking. I grit my teeth and press a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Morning,” I murmur.

“Mmm.” She arches a little more. “You’re already⁠—”

“Yeah.” I slide my hand down between her legs and find her warm and soft. “And you’re already wet. Does that mean you’re ready for me?”

She nods, still half-asleep, and that’s all the permission I need. I lift her top leg, line myself up, and push into her slow and deep from behind. The way she takes me—tight and perfect and already trembling—pulls a rough sound out of my chest. I keep one arm banded around her waist and the other braced on the bed so I can control every stroke.

“Look at me,” I tell her.

She turns her head on the pillow until those brown eyes meet mine. There’s no fear left in them. Just heat and trust and something that looks a lot like the same thing I’m feeling.

I thrust deeper. “You’re mine, Willow. Say it.”

Her breath hitches. “Hudson⁠—”

“Say it while I’m inside you.” I grind against her, slow and hard. “I want to hear it.”

She holds my gaze and whispers, “I’m yours.”

The words hit me like a punch and a promise at the same time. I fuck her deeper for it, keeping the pace deliberate so she feels every inch. Every time she tries to close her eyes, I tip her chin back until she’s looking at me again. I make her say it twice more before I let her come, and when she finally clenches around me with a broken little cry, I follow her over, buried to the hilt and already thinking about the next time.