Page 44 of Undercover Hearts

Michelle adjusted her wrist, testing that pressure again, and Jenna's breath hitched, hips leaning forward instinctively.

A small, satisfied sound escaped Michelle's throat—low and possessive—before she lowered her mouth, finally closing it over Jenna’s clit. Her tongue was slow at first, teasing, drawing delicate circles that made Jenna bite back a moan. Then she flicked, sucked, matched the rhythm of her fingers until the air between them was thick with heat and breath and quiet, broken sounds.

Jenna’s thighs quivered, but Michelle held her body steady, one arm looped behind to cradle her weight, the other hand thrusting deep, coaxing her higher with each curl and stroke. Her tongue flattened, then drew firm, lazy lines against her, coaxing out Jenna’s orgasm. She adjusted her angle, applyingsubtle pressure with her palm just above, and Jenna broke apart with a ragged cry as she came undone.

Later, as they lay tangled together in the dim light, Michelle finally spoke the truth she'd been avoiding. "I'm afraid. Not of the operation. Of this. Whatever's happening between us. It's more than I anticipated."

"Is that so terrible?" Jenna asked.

"It's terrifying," Michelle confessed. "I've built my career on maintaining control and putting the job first."

"And now?"

"Now I find myself thinking about you when I should be thinking about the operation." She exhaled shakily. "Feeling things I promised myself I wouldn't allow again after my marriage failed."

"Those feelings don't have to be weaknesses," Jenna said, fingers tracing Michelle's jawline. "They can be strengths."

"I don't know how to do both," Michelle admitted. "To care about you and still make the hard calls this operation might require."

"You don't have to choose. Not yet." Jenna pressed a soft kiss to Michelle's lips. "For now, just be here."

Later, after Jenna had fallen asleep, Michelle remained awake, watching her in the soft glow filtering through the curtains. The tender ache in her chest couldn't be dismissed as mere attraction. It had become something more complex, more frightening, more wonderful than she'd allowed herself to experience in years.

"What have you done to me?" Michelle whispered.

Whatever happened at the retreat, whatever dangers awaited them, Michelle knew she would do anything to protect the woman beside her—even if it meant compromising the very principles that had defined her career.

That knowledge terrified her more than any drug cartel ever could.

10

JENNA

Jenna stood in front of the bathroom mirror, securing the surveillance pendant around her neck. The weight of it against her collarbone had become familiar over the past eleven days of their operation—a constant reminder of purpose beneath the growing complexity of her role within the Phoenix Women's Collective. Her reflection showed a woman transformed: makeup subtle but deliberate, hair styled with an elegance that belonged to Jenna Wolfe, business consultant, rather than Detective Walsh of Phoenix Ridge PD.

Tonight's gathering at Sienna's home represented a critical juncture in their investigation. The accelerated shipment timeline had forced operational adjustments, but Chief Marten's message had been clear: gather final evidence, confirm key players, then withdraw before tomorrow night's shipment arrival. No unnecessary risks, no heroics.

In the adjoining bedroom, Michelle moved with the focused efficiency Jenna had come to recognize as her pre-operation ritual. She was securing the modified watch containing their emergency beacon, her movements precise despite the tension radiating from her shoulders. Since their connectionthe previous night, something had shifted between them—an unspoken acknowledgment neither had fully addressed in the light of morning.

"Second transmitter secured?" Michelle asked, voice steady but eyes revealing more as they met Jenna's in the mirror.

"Yes. Battery at full capacity." Jenna turned, assessing Michelle with both professional and personal appreciation. The navy dress she wore struck the perfect balance of authority and elegance. "You look perfect. Exactly how Michelle Rodriguez would dress for a celebration with potential business connections."

A smile touched Michelle's lips—small but genuine. "You've gotten good at thinking like her."

"It's not difficult." Jenna moved closer, adjusting Michelle's necklace with casual intimacy that no longer felt performed. "Parts of her are just extensions of you—the competence, the strategic mind, the protective instinct."

"And Jenna Wolfe? How much of her is you?"

Jenna considered it carefully as she gathered her clutch purse. "More than I initially expected," she admitted. "Her enthusiasm, her people skills—those were easy to adopt. But her feelings for Michelle Rodriguez..." She paused, meeting Michelle's gaze directly. "Those developed organically."

Michelle didn't look away, but something vulnerable flickered across her expression. "This operation is nearly complete. Chief Marten confirmed the tactical teams will move before the shipment arrives tomorrow."

"Ending things before they begin," Jenna noted, hearing the question beneath Michelle's statement.

"Is that how you see it?"

Jenna moved to the window, watching evening settle over Phoenix Ridge. Lights blinked on across the city, creating constellations against the darkening sky. The same city she'darrived in just weeks ago, eager to prove herself in a department where no one knew her, hungry for the challenge this operation represented.