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The tight grip of her pussy around him.

The soft press of her ass against his hips.

The rightness of the moment.

As if everything that had come before had led to this — standing here, buried deep inside the reluctant and mysterious Deputy Felicity Graham.

He held there for a heartbeat, letting his body adjust to the tight, burning heat wrapped around him.

Then he moved again. Another deep thrust.

Felicity moaned, her fingers tightening on the spindles as the sound echoed around the empty entrance hall.

Ronan followed with another stroke.

Hard. Deliberate.

“Ronan,” she breathed again.

His name. The way she said it. Like it irritated her that she needed him this way. That rough edge in her voice twisted something low in his gut.

He drove into her again, deeper, watching the way her back arched, the long line of her spine tightening with each movement.

She didn’t sound like a woman pretending. Didn’t move like one either. Every shift of her hips met him halfway.

Fighting him.

Taking him deeper.

And that realization hit him harder than the sex itself.

Felicity Graham might pretend this was just anger and bad judgment.

But her body knew better.

And that was a dangerous discovery. A powerful one he’d ponder at a more opportune moment. But now…

He kept up the relentless pace, his fingers digging into her hips.

“Play with your clit,” he muttered, knowing he was nearing the edge.

One of her white-knuckled hands left the banister.

Obeying him.

But that small thing — Felicity obeying him again — sent a dark pulse of satisfaction through him he hadn’t expected.

He felt the brush of her fingers between them, sliding against his cock as he moved inside her.

Then her heat convulsed around him.

She cried out, the sound breaking apart into something raw and incoherent.

The sensation shot up his spine. His release burst from him, filling the condom and leaving him weak-kneed.

And he knew, even in that breathless moment, that this was going to complicate everything.

She pulled away.