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Her knees burned against the tile. She didn’t stop.

When the orgasm hit, it was sharp and sudden, almost punishing. Her whole body seized around him. Cole stilled beneath her with a rough, guttural sound, his grip tightening to the edge of pain.

“Your turn,” she coaxed, breathless against his shoulder.

Something seemed to snap inside of him.

He thrust up into her once—hard, deliberate—then again, deeper, the rhythm breaking as control left him. She bit down on his shoulder to muffle the sound it pulled from her. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to bruise as a low, helpless groan tore out of him.

For one unguarded moment his forehead dropped to hers, breath ragged, eyes closed, as if the world only consisted of the two of them.

For a few long seconds, the only sounds in the dark bakery were their ragged breathing and the storm howling outside.

Then reality crashed back in.

Emily pushed off him abruptly, grabbing a hand towel, her legs shaky as she scrambled to find her clothes in the dim lighting. She could hear Cole doing the same from the rustle of fabric, the metallic clink of his belt, the heavy sigh that told her he already regretted every second.

Neither of them spoke.

She stepped to the side and yanked her sweater back over her head, ignoring the way her body still trembled. Her knees burned from the tile floor. Her lips felt swollen. Every inch of her smelled like him, a mixture of smoke and sweat. It was his own personal firefighter cologne. She couldn’t wait to take a hot shower and wash it all away.

Cole cleared his throat in the dark, voice rough. “Emily⁠—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off sharply as she finished dressing. “Just… don’t.”

The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable.

Cole pressed on. “Are you actually on the pill?”

She went very still.

Of all the things he could have said. Of all the ways this night could have gotten worse.

“Excuse me?” Her voice came out dangerously quiet.

“I just—” He stopped, as if trying to find the right words. “I know what you said, but I… I just want to make sure.”

“Are you serious right now.” It wasn’t a question. “You’re really asking me that.”

“Emily—”

“Because what exactly are you implying, Cole?” The humiliation of the last ten minutes rushed through her. “That I’m lying? That I’m—what? Trying to trap you?” She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Trust me, the last thing on Earth I would ever want is to be tied to you.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you said.”

“I asked a straightforward question.”

“And I gave you a straightforward answer!” Her voice cracked on the last word, which she hated, which made her angrier. “Yes. I am on the pill. I have been for years. Not that any of this”—she gestured uselessly at the dark space between them—“should have happened.”

Cole said nothing.

Which was somehow worse.

“Fantastic.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “This is just fantastic.”

She grabbed the tablecloth that had fallen around them and turned toward the pantry. She was done. With this conversation, with this night, with the catastrophic decision that had led her here.