Page 33 of Double Standards

“And you never told me why you’re really here.” I retreat until the cool glass of the door kisses my spine. It’s a sharp contrast to the molten heat that flares in my core.

Axel cages me in with both palms against the glass, his breath mingling with mine. “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge, Cassie.”

“I think you’ve forgotten who’s saving your ass,” I whisper, defiance underscoring my tone.

“Did Trigger feed you that line?” he snarks. Something feral flickers in his eyes—possessive, volatile. Like I’m already his, and the very idea of someone else stepping ininfuriateshim.

I tilt my head defiantly. “You think I can’t speak for myself?”

He studies me for a moment and I’m not sure whether he wants to rip me apart or kiss me senseless.

“You want me on my knees for you? Is that it?”

His grin is sinful. “Nowthatsounds like a proposition.”

He leans in, and I gasp as his nose drags across my neck—slow, savoring, deadly. I shudder, my body betraying me as fire pools low in my belly.

“What’s the matter?” he murmurs against my skin.

I don’t answer. I can’t. My breath is stolen from my lungs, my words caught in my throat.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you haven’t thought about screaming my name.”

“You’re a pig,” I snap, desperate to break the spell.

He laughs loud, the sound low and cruel. “No, your roommate’s the pig. Dou fuck pigs?”

My hand moves before my brain does, fury surging through me.

The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek cracks across the office. His head snaps to the side while my skin stings from the impact. He touches his jaw, tongue darting out to lick his lip like heenjoyedit.

He grins. Something dark and savage swims in his obsidian gaze. “There it is,” he rasps. “I knew you had some fight in you.”

I want to scream but I'm breathless. I want to throw something, but at the same time, I want to grab him by the collar and kiss him until I forget why I hate him.

And that’s the problem.

Axel takes a step back, chest heaving, grin fading into something colder. Something more controlled and calculated. “Keep that fire, counselor,” he murmurs. “I like it.”

He yanks the door without another word, and pushes past me. The door slams behind him, the echo rattling straight through me while I stand frozen in place, my breath uneven, my heart caught somewhere between rage and longing. The scent of him still lingers in the room—leather, smoke, arrogance.

And when I glance down, I realize my hand is still trembling from the slap. From touching him.

I can’t believe the nerve of him.

Actually, I can. I just don’t want to admit it.

By the time I get home, Cooper’s still out. I won’t lie—it’s a relief. He’s finally putting in the hours at work, which helps ease the guilt I’ve carried for years about how much of myself I’ve given to my cases. Maybe now he’ll start to understand.

The interaction with Axel has left me in a foul mood, the sour taste of it still coating my tongue. Everything between Axel and me has shifted so fast, I haven’t had time to process any of it—his words, his aggression, that ridiculous dig about Cooper being a pig.Was it jealousy? Probably. But it wasn’t clear, and I hate that it’s occupying so much space in my head.

Maybe Axel’s just used to getting what he wants, and with Cooper around, I’m the one thing he can’t have. Cooper is a complication, an obstacle. At least, that’s how he’d see it.

Still, the mood I’ve been left in clings to me like smoke. I crawl into bed with a tight chest and a restless mind. My dreams offer no escape. Axel is there—in fragments, in shadows, in the heat of things unsaid.

When I peel myself out of bed the next morning, nothing’s improved. I’m running on broken sleep and pure caffeine. Axel’s voice still haunts the back of my mind, and I can’t shake the storm he left in his wake.

Relief finally comes in the form of silence. No Axel. No Colombo. Just the low hum of fluorescent lights, and the promise of a quiet, uneventful day. My shoulders finally start to loosen, the tension from the morning inching away with every step I take toward my office. Maybe, just maybe, the worst is behind me.