The rain grew heavier, drops hammering against the windshield. We were almost to my apartment where another kind of test waited. Dinner had been one thing—controlled chaos in a protected space. What came next couldn't help but be painfully honest and more intimate.
I wasn't sure which scared me more: the arsonist watching from the shadows or how James had somehow slipped past every defense I'd built since Dad died.
My door's lock clicked behind us. Neither of us moved to hit the lights. The rain was softer, a gentle patter on the windows.
James stood in the middle of my living room, his silhouette sharp against the backdrop of Seattle's skyline. I watched him from the doorway, suddenly unsure of my footing in my own space.
He wasn't merely another date or even a boyfriend. It was James, who'd just survived trial by McCabe family dinner. James, who'd faced down my SWAT team brother without flinching. James, who knew what kind of monster was hunting me and chose to stay anyway.
"You're still here."
He turned, and even in the dim light, the complexity in his expression registered. "Yeah. I am."
I moved toward him slowly. When I finally reached him, I touched the edge of his jacket. The wool was still damp from the rain, but his slim body was solid and real underneath. His breath caught a small sound in the quiet room.
"This is a bad idea." His voice said one thing, but his hands were already rising to my shoulders, betraying his words.
I let my lips gently touch his jawline, feeling the slight rasp of evening stubble. "Probably."
Then his fingers were in my hair, and there was nothing slow about it anymore. He pulled me closer with a desperation that matched the storm in my chest. I backed him against the window, glass cool against his spine as I caught his mouth with mine. His hands slid under my shirt, mapping the muscles of my back.
I understood the urgency. Every touch was like another small anchor, proving we were both still here and whole. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I groaned, pressing him harder against the glass. Seattle's lights spilled around us, turning him into a study in shadows and sharp edges.
"Marcus." My name was barely a breath against my mouth. His fingers dug into my shoulders, and he trembled. Not from fear. It was something else. Something deeper.
I pulled back enough to see his face and watch his eyes drift open. The careful walls he maintained, the professional distancehe wore like armor, had cracked. In their place was something fierce and wanting and a little bit broken.
"I've got you." I pressed the words into the skin beneath his ear, feeling his pulse race against my lips. "I've got you."
His laugh was shaky. "Isn't that supposed to be my line? I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting you."
"Maybe we protect each other." I smoothed my thumb over his cheekbone. "Maybe that's the point."
Something shifted in his expression. "Your family," he said quietly, "they're terrified of losing you. Like they lost your father."
The observation should have doused the heat between us like a bucket of ice water. Instead, it made me pull him closer until his heartbeat pounded against my chest. "I know."
"So am I." The confession was barely audible, but it hit hard, like a battering ram to my chest.
James's admission ignited something primal within me. I crushed my lips against his, pouring every ounce of my pent-up emotion into the kiss.
His response was immediate and fierce. Our tongues clashed, exploring each other with desperate hunger.
His hands fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, tearing it open to expose my chest. I kicked off my shoes, my pants quickly following. He did the same, our clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor.
The room's cool air did nothing to temper the heat between us. I backed him against the window again, the cold glass a stark contrast to the fires burning inside us. His body was taut, every muscle defined and straining. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath. His heart pounded against my palm, which matched my racing pulse.
James's fingers dug into my hips, pulling me closer. His arousal was hard and insistent against my thigh. I groundagainst him, eliciting a low moan that vibrated through his chest. His hands roamed over my back, nails biting into my skin with a delicious sting.
I trailed kisses down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His head fell back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. I nipped at the tender flesh, feeling his pulse quicken under my lips. His hands tangled in my hair, holding me close as I explored every inch of him.
His breath caught in his throat when I moved lower, tracing the lines of his collarbone with my tongue. His heartbeat kicked into a frantic drumbeat that echoed my desire, and his body trembled under my touch, a silent plea for more.
I dropped to my knees, my hands sliding down his sides. His breath came in ragged gasps as I took him in my mouth, the taste of him overwhelming my senses. His fingers tightened in my hair, guiding me as I took him deeper.
His hips moved in sync with my movements, a dance of desperation and need.
James pulled me up from the floor, his mouth crashing against mine in a bruising kiss. His hands roamed over my body, pausing just long enough to pinch a nipple, sending a sharp, delicious moment of pain through me.
