Page 38 of Whisper

“Bedroom,” I whisper, barely able to form the word.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He carries me down the hallway like I weigh nothing, heat radiating off him in waves. At the door, he doesn’t fumble or pause—he shoulders it open and deposits me on the bed like he’s staking a claim.

The room is bland. Generic.

But Cooper?

He looks like every dangerous, filthy, forbidden dream I’ve ever had.

His tactical vest hits the floor, followed by his shirt.

My breath catches.

He’s all rough-cut muscle and hard-earned scars. Strength without vanity. Power without apology.

When he reaches for the hem of my shirt, I raise my arms, trembling.

His eyes burn as he peels the fabric away. “I’ve thought about these,” he says, rough and low, cupping my breasts through the lace. “Every time you talked. Every time you wouldn’t shut up.”

He squeezes, slow and deliberate, thumbs teasing my nipples until I gasp.

“That,” he says, “right there. I’ll drag that sound out of you a thousand ways.”

His hands move to the clasp of my bra. One flick. It falls away.

Something small hits the floor with a soft clink.

The flash drive.

We both freeze, staring at the tiny piece of metal that started this nightmare.

Cooper moves like he might bend for it—but I catch his arm.

“Cooper,” I say, breathless, desperate. “It can wait. Please—I need you.”

His low chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Needy, much?”

I flush, but I don’t flinch. “Yes.”

That one word makes his eyes go molten.

“One thing you need to learn, Eliza…” He steps closer, gaze locked on mine. “I’m in charge here. You don’t set the pace.”

He lets the flash drive lie forgotten and turns his full attention back to me—like I’m the only mission that matters now.

“But since you asked so nicely…” He lowers his mouth to my ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” I whisper. “All of you.”

He doesn’t need anything more.

His hands make quick work of the rest of my clothes, his mouth following the path down my skin like he’s memorizing me with his tongue.

When he pushes me onto the bed and settles between my thighs, I forget how to think—how to breathe.

“Look at me,” he commands.