His thumb finds my chin, tilting my face back to his with quiet command. His hand spans the column of my throat and the curve of my jaw, grounding me—claiming me—with nothing but touch.
And just like that, I’m no longer bracing against the burn.
I’m begging for it.
“I’m going to cum again,” I pant into his mouth. He smirks against my lips—lazy and deliberate—the kind of knowing curve that says he planned this. Every move. Like he’s playing a game he’s already won.
And I’m only just realising the rules.
“Such a good little troublemaker,” he teases.
Together, we shatter in a euphoric wave, bodies locked in the kind of rhythm that drowns thought and blurs every line.
He drives into me with a low, guttural growl, like the sound is torn from somewhere deep and primal. And I cling—fingers digging into his back, chasing the high as it crashes over me.
“You’re on birth control, right?”
My mouth goes dry.
Iwas—right up until about a week ago.
Funny how self-preservation slipped so easily down the list of priorities when chaos started wearing his face.
“Umm …”
“Fuck.”
32
Cam
Not only did I lead her astray—I was careless.
I should’ve thought beyond the heat of it. Beyond myself. About the fallout, and not just that, I should have thought about her.
The last thing she needs is the risk of carrying my mistakes.
It was reckless. Stupid. And the more I sit with it, the clearer it becomes—this wasn’t just a lapse in judgment. It was a betrayal of everything I was supposed to protect.
She deserves better.
She deserves safety and stability. Someone who puts her first—not whatever this is that keeps pulling us under.
I can’t let selfishness blur the mission. Not again. Not until I know she’s truly safe.
Until then, this stops here.
I pushed harder than I should’ve at the gym this evening, I can feel it through the protest of muscle and burn in my lungs, but the ache was worth it. I needed the release, needed somewhere to dump the frustration clawing at me from the inside out.
It gave me space to think and plan.
Talia’s intel says they’re making a move in the next couple of days. Which means time’s almost up.
This stopped being a job the moment she crashed into my world. It’s not about Kyla anymore—at least not just her. It’s about Nell. This unpredictable, maddening woman who’s torn through my control like it was tissue paper.
And I can’t let her vanish like the rest. I won’t.
She’s not a file. Not a mark. Not a shadow I track through a scope. She’s real. And the thought of walking through my front door and not finding her here—no laughter in the kitchen, no stolen glances across the room—it twists something deep in my chest.
