"Good," he says finally. "Because I’ve been imagining it since the second I saw you in that bikini. And every time you let me put my hands on you in front of those people tonight, it got worse."
I turn to look at him. The lights from the dash catch the sharp line of his jaw, the heat in his eyes when he glances over. This is the part where I should pull back. Set a boundary. Tell him this is still pretend and nothing more.
Instead I reach across the console and rest my hand on his forearm. His skin is warm. The muscle shifts under my palm.
"We still have rules," I say, but my voice is softer than I mean it to be.
"I know." He covers my hand with his for a second, then returns it to the wheel. "But rules can be renegotiated. When you’re ready."
We pull into the safe house driveway. The bungalow looks quiet and dark except for the porch light I left on. Jace comes around and opens my door before I can reach for the handle. He helpsme out, and for a moment we stand there in the cool night air with the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore nearby.
He doesn’t let go of my hand right away.
"Tomorrow we can follow up on Victor," he says. "But tonight... thank you for tonight, Sadie. You made it easy to pretend. And hard to remember it’s pretend."
I look up at him. The serious part of me wants to list all the reasons this is a bad idea. The other part of me, the one with zero interest in being reasonable, wants to find out if he’s as unforgettable as they claimed.
I compromise by squeezing his hand once before letting go.
"You’re still impossible," I tell him. "But you were good tonight too. The banter made the other couples jealous. I could see it."
His grin returns, softer this time. "That was the point. Sell the fantasy."
We walk up the porch steps together. At the door he pauses with the key in his hand and looks down at me.
"For the record," he says quietly, "none of it felt like a fantasy to me."
My heart does something complicated in my chest. I don’t answer with words. I lean up and press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. The stubble there scrapes lightly against my lips. It’s the smallest touch and it still sends heat spiraling through me.
When I pull back his eyes are darker, his breathing a little uneven.
"Goodnight, Jace," I say.
He unlocks the door and holds it open for me. "Goodnight, Sadie."
Inside, he heads for the couch without being asked. I go to the bedroom and close the door. I lean against it for a long moment, the navy dress still on, my pulse still racing.
Tomorrow we’ll chase leads on Victor and his restaurant. We’ll keep pretending. We’ll keep touching and bantering and making other people jealous of something that started as a cover and is starting to feel like the most real thing I’ve ever had.
And at some point soon I’m going to have to decide whether to keep enforcing the rules I made on that porch in Halo City or whether to let the arrogant, charming, completely impossible man on the other side of this door rewrite them entirely.
I press my fingers to my lips where they touched his cheek and smile in the dark.
The women at the club were right about one thing.
Iamin trouble.
I'm still smiling when the knock comes. Two quick raps, low on the door, nothing like the easy rhythm he used earlier tonight.
"Sadie." His voice is different. Flat and quiet. "I need you to stay in your room and lock this door. Now."
The warmth drains out of me all at once. I turn the lock with fingers that suddenly feel clumsy. "What's wrong?"
"The screen door on the back porch is ajar." A pause, and I can hear him moving even as he talks, the soft brush of his steps down the hall. "I latched it before we left. I always latch it."
I press my palm flat against the door like I can feel him through the wood. The house has gone completely silent. No footsteps now. No lamp clicking on. Just the distant roll of the waves and my own heartbeat, loud and fast in my ears. I think of him out there in the dark living room, moving the way he moved at the marina when that man watched us too long. Calm. Coiled. A gun in his hand that I've only ever seen as a shape under his shirt.
Minutes stretch. I count my breaths and stare at the strip of darkness under the door, waiting for a shadow to cross it.
