Chapter 18
The blare of a horn startles me awake. When I open my eyes, it takes me a moment to place my surroundings.
Not an unusual circumstance in this line of work.
My brain boots up in stages—the way it always does—cataloging light, sound, and threats.
A soft, feathery breath wafts across my chest, and my awareness sharpens immediately.
Blake.
She’s still nestled against my side with her cheek pressed to my chest. Her dark hair is splayed over my arm and the sheets like ink across paper.
Her leg is thrown over my thigh, and her fragile arm is draped haphazardly across my ribs, holding on to me like she grabbed me in the night and claimed me for herself. A notion I am not at all opposed to.
Sunlight sneaks through the small gap of the curtains, painting the room in a pale haze of gold as specks of dust float in the air. A ray of light lands on her bare shoulder, warming her soft skin.
Fuck… It’s morning.
I fell asleep. Soundly. I don’t sleep like this…
I spend most nights with one eye open, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. And I never sleep this deeply, with someone tucked under my arm and their breath syncing with mine.
This wasn’t the plan. While I wasn’t going to slink away into the night, I definitely didn’t plan to wake up in her bed.
Sleeping with her wasn’t a line I should’ve crossed, but spending the night is one I will have no choice but to explain to the team.
But as I stare at the ceiling fan as Blake mutters incoherently in her sleep while nuzzling closer to me, I know that it was worth it.
Carefully, I shift my weight and try to slide out from underneath her without waking her.
She stirs slightly as a sweet little whimper blows over her lips.
Her fingers curl reflexively into my side, tightening just enough to hold on to me.
Fuck, Doc… that’s cheating. Sucking in a quick breath, I freeze and wait to see whether she is going to wake or fall back asleep.
She lets out a contented sigh and rolls away from me, leaving me ample room to slide my arm free.
While trying not to disturb her, I sit up and slide to the edge of the bed.
When I turn to make sure I didn’t wake her, I find her lashes fluttering.
They open slowly, the warm brown pools sharp even as she wakes.
She lazily grips the sheet and pulls it over her body.
Looking up at me with her mouth curving upward slowly, her voice is rough with sleep. “Hit it and quit it, huh?”
A small, quiet chuckle escapes me. “What? You got what you wanted from me.”
“Yes. Dirty sheets and possibly knocked up from a one-night stand,” she deadpans with an arched brow as I swing my legs off the bed. “Every girl’s dream.”
She props herself up on one elbow, the sheet clutched lightly to her chest, watching me intently.
The way she stares up at me, I’m not quite sure if she’s daring me to bolt or has already decided that I am going to.
“This wasn’t a one-night stand, Doc.” Instead of running, I climb back over her.
Quickly, I grab both her wrists and playfully pin her to the bed as I straddle her tiny frame.
The mattress dips beneath the sudden shift of my weight as her breath stutters in surprise. Or maybe… anticipation.
Feigning that I’m going to kiss her, I lower my head, and she groans in protest when I dart to the side at the last moment.
I press my lips to the inside of her upper arm and dust them over the faint, tiny scar running along her skin.
“I noticed your implant last night, Doc,” I softly pepper the words against her skin.
“So we both know you aren’t knocked up. But you should know, with or without it, God himself couldn’t have stopped me from marking every inch of your pussy with my cum. ”
She scoffs softly, disbelief flickering through her stare.
I press another kiss to her arm before releasing her wrists.
My forearms braced against the mattress on each side of her face, I leave a trail of wet kisses from her shoulder to her ear.
“I know you think I’m joking,” I whisper in her ear, “but if I weren’t already late for work, I’d be more than happy to help you remove it before fucking you again to prove it. ”
Her eyes widen a fraction, heat flashing bright and unmistakable in them.
I force myself from the bed before I can’t.
Before I find myself actually carving that tiny little implant out of her arm so I can fuck my baby into her.
As I stand beside her bed, this tiny apartment suddenly feels far too small for the look we are trading.
Dressing is an exercise in restraint. Jeans.
Shirt. Boots. My movements are controlled, deliberate, and a bit rushed.
Because if I let myself linger, I know I won’t be able to leave at all.
Blake watches me from the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and her chin resting lightly on them.
There is no regret or embarrassment written across her face.
Once I’m fully clothed, I walk back across the room.
I bend down, tipping her chin upward as I slide my hand along her jaw.
My thumb drags over her plush lower lip as I angle my head to taste her mouth.
I kiss her slow and deep—tender yet possessive—leaving no room for doubt about what this is.
What we are going to be. She moans into my mouth as I stake my claim, forcing me to pull back before this goes any further.
After breaking our kiss, I linger against her lips with our breaths mingling in the charged space between us.
Her lips are swollen, and her eyes are dark with a desire that I’m certain mirrors my own.
“I have to go,” I apologize before placing one last chaste kiss against her glistening lips.
At the door, with my bag slung over my shoulder, I hesitate when my hand reaches for the knob.
I glance over my shoulder at her sweet face.
“Dinner? Tomorrow night?” I ask, like this is normal. Like this isn’t complicated as hell.
Her face crinkles. “I’m on a night shift.” I know.
“I’ll bring it to you then,” I push lightly without missing a beat. “About midnight?”
She sits a little straighter, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “Yeah. Midnight is good.”
After climbing into the Jeep, I pull my phone from my bag and find a barrage of missed calls and texts waiting for me.
DAMON
Where are you?
GUNNAR
Jagg, you better not be—
SWIPE.
HAWK
If you fuck this job up—
SWIPE.
No point in getting those lectures twice.
I contemplate texting back. Maybe something charming and evasive will give the guys the false notion that I have this under control. Realizing it’s futile, I toss the phone on the passenger seat and start the engine. I’ll face the firing squad in person.
The safe house door barely closes behind me before I meet the consequences of my actions. Gunnar doesn’t bother looking up from his cup of coffee on the table before him. “Recon, Jagg. Not fucking the girl you’re surveilling.”
After dropping my bag to the floor, I roll my shoulders. “Who said I was fucking her?” Gunnar glances up at me and stares with a disapproving fatherly look that he has mastered too well. I sigh with an eyeroll. “Fine. I slept with her.”
Hawk’s jaw tightens, like he is purposefully trying to grind his teeth down to the root, as Gunnar and Damon groan their disapproval in tandem. When their slew of admonishments finally start to die down, I hold up my hands.
“She knows more about Maryam than she’s letting on,” I share flatly. “We missed it somehow, but she bought a baby toy at the market yesterday.”
Gunnar’s scowl deepens. “Did you learn that before or after you slept with her?”
“Before,” I gruff. “But what of it? Hawk can fuck the job, but I can’t?”
Hawk shoots me a glare that causes me to suddenly doubt all my life choices.
“Sorry,” I exhale my apology, because I’m not actually suicidal. “That might have been too far.”
The three of them argue and share their aversion to how I spent my evening. But my mind isn’t here. Their words are mere background noise as I think about the sunlit bedroom with a freckled face on my chest and dark hair draped across my arm.
The sinking realization sets in that this—whatever this is—is complicated as hell with or without the job.