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“I’d say yes, too.” He reads my mind.

“I’d never ask. This is the man you are.”

“But if it meant losing you, I’d leave the team, forget the drugs, the takedown, the entire operations, and go back to being a cop.”

I suck in a sob, knowing this is too much. This strong, dedicated, fiercely determined man is saying he’d give up his career for me. My heart shatters from overwhelming love.

Instead of bursting into tears, I channel my inner sass. “You know, I’d walk out the door and find another incredibly hot town detective.”

He sees right through my act and grips my face a little firmer, his lips tipping in a small smile. “That will never happen.”

Everything’s in place. The suite we rented for Maren looks like she’s been living in it for a while. Clothes are scattered, the bathroom is littered with her essentials, and the stage is set. More importantly, the remote VPNs are established. All she has to do is get ‘Robert’, who is actually Ricky, here so we can execute this and kick him the hell out.

I listen into my earpiece and hear them leaving the restaurant across the street. We planted a listening device in her necklace, so I knew exactly what was happening. Maren has invited him up for a drink, and he’s taken the bait. This is my cue to get into my hiding place in the oversized closet. The transmission is replaced with static in the elevator and then returns when they exit.

I crouch in a corner where my phones are stashed and wait. The door to the suite opens, and they walk in, Maren apologizing again for the fact they are in a hotel. She lays it on thick, explaining that, until her lawyer can get the divorce finalized, she can’t buy a home. Ricky sympathizes with her, walking around to take in the surroundings.

She fixes them a drink, him closing in on her, taking the glass, and wrapping an arm around her waist. From my position, I can see them clearly. It’s unfortunate he’s a lying, douchelord, asshole, because he really is handsome.

Then he opens his mouth, and I’m reminded exactly why we’re here.

“Two weeks, Hanna… For two weeks, you’ve taunted me with the idea of having you. Every night after I sign off that computer, I stroke my cock to the thought of you sucking my dick and forcing you to swallow my cum deep in your throat.”

Eww… doesn’t this asshole know it’s a choice?

Maren’s only response is a girly giggle, which encourages him to go on. He clumsily moves his hand from her waist to the back of her head, urging her to look at him.

“Have you ever been with a PPE before Hanna?”

She shakes her head slowly, sucking her bottom lip in her mouth and looking as innocent as she can.

“Do you know what a PPE is?”

She repeats the motion, this time widening her eyes with curiosity.

“Professional Pussy Eater. I’m going to treat you to a night of pure bliss and ecstasy.” His voice drops to a growl, his confidence growing. “All night long.”

I roll my eyes and gag. Does this really work on women?

“Robert, I think we may be moving a little fast. This is our first date.” Her voice is laced with a sugary sweetness meant to encourage him further.

“Don’t think, Hanna, just feel. Feel what you do to me.” He bucks his hips into her thigh, where he’s undoubtedly sporting an erection.

She does the annoying giggle again until he shuts her up by kissing her. He’s aggressive in his approach, not soothing his way at all. It’s painful to watch as he slops over her lips, still holding his drink in the other hand. He doesn’t even have the decency to put his glass down and properly kiss her. The sound of slurping and sucking fills the space until she whimpers. He mistakes her protest for passion and slants his head to go deeper.

I cringe in sympathy for Maren, and any other woman who has had to endure this. Watching him in action is painful. In my experience with Walker, the way a man kisses is indicative of how he performs in other areas. There is no way Robert-slash-Ricky is a PPE.

Maren doesn’t waver, continuing to kiss him and sliding her hands to his belt. He finally breaks away, and I can see her face is swollen from her top lip to her chin where he has left his marks.

She takes his drink and sets it down, then starts to unbutton his shirt. “I’m usually not into sex on the first date. I’m known as a good girl,” she tells him, sliding the shirt off his shoulders.

“I’ll take it as a challenge to change your mind. I’m crazy about you, Hanna. You’ve consumed my thoughts since the first night we talked. I’m done with online dating. I want you and only you. Let me prove that to you tonight and show you that your husband was an idiot for letting you go.”

Here comes the sweet talking.

He toes off his shoes and rips off his socks when her hands go to his belt. Slowly, she undoes his belt and pants until they fall into a pile on the floor and he steps out of them, revealing the snuggest pair of black nut-huggers I’ve ever seen. I swallow my laughter, unsure how she’s keeping a straight face.

Then I start to worry. It’s been at least almost two hours since they met for drinks and dinner. She slipped the laxative in his cocktail before they even sat down. It should be kicking in by now.