Page 25 of Undercover Hearts

“Come for me,” Michelle demanded as she locked eyes with Jenna, as if she could will her orgasm out.

She increased her pace, plunging her fingers in and out then curling them to hit the tender G-spot while never easing up on her clit, and soon, Jenna arched her back, her toes curling in the sheets, and screamed as her orgasm rippled through her body.

“That’s it, baby. Let it out,” Michelle cooed, her voice softening its hard edges, though her gaze no less intensely focused on Jenna as the aftershocks crashed over her.

Later, as Jenna's breathing steadied beside her, Michelle stared at the ceiling, satisfaction warring with renewed guilt. She'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. Taken what she wanted with a ferocity that should have alarmed her.

Yet beneath the guilt lay something more unsettling still—the recognition that for the first time in years, she felt utterly, completely alive.

6

JENNA

Jenna woke to sunlight streaming through half-drawn curtains, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar room. Then memory returned—the safe house, the operation, and the seismic shift in her relationship with Michelle. She reached for her watch on the nightstand. Six-thirty. The Building Healthy Relationships workshop at the PWC wouldn't start until ten, but there was strategy to discuss, equipment to prepare, and the delicate new dynamic between them to navigate.

She dressed quickly in comfortable loungewear and padded to the kitchen, following the now-familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee. Michelle stood at the counter, already dressed in tailored slacks and a wine-colored silk blouse, her hair swept into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Something had shifted in her posture since yesterday—a slight softening around the shoulders, a subtly different way she held herself.

"Morning," Jenna said, keeping her tone casual as she reached for a mug.

Michelle turned, coffee pot in hand. "Made enough for both of us."

The simple consideration represented their new rhythm—not quite comfortable, not entirely professional, but functional in a way that acknowledged what had happened between them without dwelling on it. Michelle poured coffee into Jenna's outstretched mug, their fingers briefly touching in the exchange.

"The workshop files are on the table," Michelle said, gesturing toward the dining area where tablets and folders were meticulously arranged. "Today's our first real test; they'll be watching how we interact in a relationship-centered environment."

Jenna nodded, moving to examine the materials. "Ironically appropriate. A relationship workshop for a fake couple that's having very real sex."

Michelle's sharp glance held warning, but lacked the anger or denial Jenna might have expected two days ago. Progress, however slight.

They spent the next hour reviewing intelligence files on workshop participants, focusing on the PWC inner circle most likely to attend.

"What's our specific intelligence goal today?"

"Information on the retreat Sienna mentioned. Location, date, security protocols. And any details about their leadership development program that might connect to the smuggling operation."

Jenna nodded, making mental notes. "The workshop format should give us opportunities to circulate and gather snippets of conversation."

Michelle reached into a small case, removing what appeared to be elegant jewelry—the recording devices Detective Rivers had provided. "The pendant has the highest audio quality. You should wear it."

She held out the necklace, a simple silver design that would complement any outfit. Jenna turned, lifting her hair to allowMichelle to fasten it around her neck. Michelle's fingers were cool against her skin, lingering a moment longer than necessary.

"There," Michelle said, her voice softening almost imperceptibly.

Jenna turned back, finding Michelle's gaze on her with an intensity that belied her professional tone. The pendant rested against her collarbone, its weight a reminder of their true purpose. Yet in that moment, with Michelle's eyes darkening as they traced the path of the chain down Jenna's neck, the operation felt distant compared to the gravitational pull between them.

"The earrings have one-way communication capability," Michelle continued, visibly recalibrating to a professional demeanor as she handed Jenna small, tasteful studs. "Detective Rivers can send audio signals if necessary."

Their fingers brushed again in the exchange, and Jenna felt Michelle's subtle intake of breath—not quite a gasp, but a momentary hitch that betrayed her careful composure. The electric awareness between them remained, carefully contained beneath a veneer of professionalism that felt increasingly thin.

"I should get ready," Jenna said, stepping back to create necessary distance. "What's our approach for the workshop itself?"

Michelle glanced at her notes. "Stay close to Alina or Sienna if possible. They're most likely to reveal operational details. If separated, I'll focus on Sienna, you take Alina."

"Makes sense." Jenna nodded, withdrawing to her bedroom with the recording devices and workshop materials.

Selecting an outfit required strategic consideration—something attractive yet understated. She chose cream wide-leg trousers and a black silk blouse, adding the surveillance jewelry.

When she emerged, she found Michelle studying PWC member photographs with intense focus, commitment evidentin every line of her body. Despite their personal complications, Michelle's dedication to justice never wavered. It was one of the qualities Jenna found most compelling about her.