Page 1

New York City, USA

T he room was a cocoon, insulated from the world, where time had stretched and blurred over the past three days.

Denver Malone lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting on the curve of Rhae’s hip. Her head nestled against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

The ceiling fan rotated lazily above, its rhythmic creak the only sound accompanying the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. The silence between them was comfortable, yet charged, like the calm before a storm.

“Three days,” Rhae murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.

“Mm-hmm.” Denver’s was a low rumble.

“We said one night.”

He chuckled, but it was a sound devoid of humor. With Rhae, he existed in a different world than the one he walked in normally. The minute he stepped out that hotel room door, he returned to his SEAL team and became a ghost.

A dead man walking.

The moments he’d stolen with her were even riskier than they would be with a nameless woman picked up at a random bar.

It sure as hell would be less of an entanglement.

He smirked down at her. “Plans change.”

“Do they?” She lifted her head to look at him, her pale blue eyes—the color of a misty morning—searching his face in a way that made him take more notice.

He met her gaze, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. “They did.”

They were dancing around each other. As always. What choice did they have when everything about these meetups was forbidden? Not only was he breaking the rules of his team, SEAL Team Blackout Charlie, by having a connection in his personal life…but Rhae was his therapist.

Or had been in the beginning. He was forced to see her five times after a mission went sideways. He thought it was going to be the worst experience ever, but after he fulfilled orders, he found ways to facilitate accidental meetups…that turned into dates…

That turned into three days spent in a hotel room.

Rhae sat up and slipped out of bed. She donned a silky robe and crossed the room to the window, peering out at the city that never slept.

Her sexy silhouette was illuminated by the neon lights below, casting her in a surreal glow, accentuating the blonde streaks in her hair that gave her a forever sun-kissed look that intruded on his dreams, and those pale blue eyes that had a way of piercing him far too deep.

And Christ, her long, toned legs had him aching hard for her all over again.

Denver sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “I should probably leave.”

She turned her head to face him, a sad smile on her lips as if she already knew what would happen. What always happened.

“You should probably stay.” Then she shook herself. “Never mind. That’s not how this works.”

He stood, crossing the room to her. “Why not?”

“Because we agreed. One night. No strings.”

“And yet, here we are, three days later.”

Three days and a lot of secrets neither could share. They danced around their personal lives more than they did the samba in the sheets.

She looked away, her hands slipping into the pockets of the robe. Rhae was the therapist, but he recognized the gesture for what it was —a shield against vulnerability.

“Rhae…”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

He reached out, gently turning her to face him. “I’m not trying to make it harder. I just…I don’t want to let you go.”

Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Then don’t.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I have to.”

She nodded, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “I know.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Her fingers bit into his chest, clinging to him like he was the last steady thing in her world.

His hands slid up her back, pressing her against him.

It would be so easy to say the words he kept locked behind his teeth, to confess that she wasn’t just some passing fling, that these three days had unraveled him in ways he couldn’t have predicted.

But he didn’t.

Because saying it would make it real, and making it real would make it impossible to walk away. And Denver Malone knew how to walk away. It was part of the job, part of survival.

But damn, it felt like he was leaving half his soul behind.

Outside, the city hummed with life, indifferent to their shared heartbreak. Inside, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, suspended in time, teetering on the edge of something that could have been everything.

“You should probably leave,” she whispered again, voice breaking.

Denver pressed his forehead to hers, inhaling the scent of her—jasmine and something uniquely Rhae. “I know.”

He lingered, his lips grazing hers, like a memory he was desperate to burn into his soul.

Finally, he stepped back, letting her slip from his grasp, watching as she retreated to the window once more, arms wrapped around herself like she could hold in all the things she wasn’t saying.

Fuck.

Denver reached for her. With a gasp that sounded like a woman who’d been holding her breath, Rhae spun toward him, throwing herself into his arms.

He lifted her automatically and whirled for the bed. In five steps, they fell to the mattress with her sleek body pressed underneath him. Her legs parted, the robe falling away to give him total access. In one swift thrust, his stiff cock tunneled inside her.

Rhae cried out, fingertips digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as their mouths collided with a desperation neither could ever admit to.

It was over fast—too fast. They lay entwined for long minutes, neither one of them speaking. What was there to say? If he was smart, this would be the last time he saw her.

The thought of her moving on with her life—without him—sent a sharp knife straight to his chest. He stared at the ceiling, fighting emotions he shouldn’t, couldn’t have.

There’s no future in it.

Within minutes, he noticed how her body went lax with sleep and her breathing turned slow and rhythmic.

Denver slipped out of bed and found his jeans, pulling them on methodically, like each move was a nail sealing up his chest. He grabbed his shirt from the chair, drawing it over his shoulders before reaching for his boots.

His hands hesitated on the laces.

He could stay. He could forget everything else. It was just one choice. One decision.

But then he tied the knot, standing and straightening as if it took every ounce of strength he had left.

He looked at her one last time. Asleep on the bed in a pool of early morning sunlight. If this was the last he ever saw of Rhae, it was a damn good vision to etch into his memory.

He swallowed hard.

One last look. One final breath.

Then he walked out.

And didn’t come back.