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But still…
Miles said he has evidence.
Which means there was enough reasonable suspicion to open an investigation into this. To put agents in place. To contact me. Where did that evidence come from if Hale is telling the truth?
“Hale.” I hold his gaze, forcing myself to push just one more time. “You wouldn’t lie to me about this, would you?”
Something in his expression changes. A flash of hurt crosses his features before they harden a little, and he rolls me onto my back, hovering over me. “Is that what you think? That I’d lie to you?”
I press my lips together, trying to slow the sudden pounding of my heart. “No. I just need to know—”
“I can’t change how we started, Grace.” His blue eyes glint as he looks down at me. “You and me. I can never change the fact that I dragged you from a church in a bloody fucking dress on your wedding day. I can’t change that your father died, or that mine did. I can’t change the shit I’ve done in my life. But I’ve never lied to you about who I am or told you I’m a good man. I’m not. I’m one of the bad guys. I run an underground criminal organization. That’s what I do. It’s my birthright. My duty.”
There’s such a look of intensity on his face that I don’t respond. I just gaze up at him, soaking in every one of his words.
He trails a hand down the side of my face before gripping my chin, his eyes narrowing. “I have nothing to fucking hide from you. This is who I am, and I won’t lie to you about that. Ever.”
His fingers splay over my jaw, his grip tightening a little. “So when I tell you that I don’t trade in people, you can believe that. Because after everything that’s happened between us, after everything I’ve done, I know it’s a little too fucking late to convince you I’m a good man.”
This time when he speaks, there’s more than just sincerity in his voice. There’s something harder and darker, something that sounds like it comes from the depths of his soul. Unable to look away from his starkly handsome face, I reach up and mirror his earlier gesture, running my fingertips over the line of his cheekbone.
“You’re a better man than you think you are, Hale Novak,” I murmur.
Then I thread my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and draw him down to meet me, pressing my lips to his.
He kisses me back, his tongue running over the seam of my lips before slipping into my mouth. His hand leaves my face, trailing down the front of my body before delving beneath the fabric of my soft, stretchy sleep pants.
One thick finger slides inside me, and he groans when he feels how wet I am. Will I ever stop responding to his touch like this, my body always ready for him, always desperate for more?
“I’m not a good man, Grace,” he mutters against my lips, fucking me with his finger and adding a second. “Do you know why?”
I make a noise in my throat, rolling my hips against him as my hands grip his shoulders. My breath is already coming faster, and I gasp when he wrenches his lips away from mine to stare down at me.
“Why?” I murmur, blinking up at him.
“Because I want to wreck you.” His voice is rough, full of so much truth and so much hunger that it makes a shiver run through me. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and still, I want to wreck you.”
A throaty chuckle falls from my lips as my blood heats up. Reaching down between us, I grab his hand, guiding his movements as I urge him to fuck me deeper with his fingers. “Maybe I want to be wrecked. Maybe I’m not a good woman either.”
He groans, claiming my lips in another fierce, demanding kiss as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against my g-spot.
“No. Not good.” Sitting back suddenly, he withdraws his hand and yanks my pants off. His shorts are gone a second later, and almost before I realize he’s naked, he slams inside of me, filling me in one hard stroke. We both freeze, our bodies pressed tightly together. “Not good,” he repeats softly. “Perfect.”
Then, as if to prove to both of us that I can’t be broken, that I can’t be wrecked, he pulls back and drives back in, fucking me hard and fast.
The bed rocks beneath us, the frame slapping against the wall with every thrust, and Hale pulls my tank top off before dropping his head to lick and suck my breasts. It’s not a gentle fuck, and it’s so far from making love that it’s not even on the same planet. But I can feel it anyway, the current of connection that travels back and forth between us when we come together like this.
The reminder that our relationship might not be perfect, it might not make sense from the outside, but it’s real.
It’s undeniable.
It’s permanent.
I cling to him, digging my nails into his arms and back, pulling him closer. My heels press against his ass, my legs wrapped tightly around him until he grabs my thighs and forces them open wider. Holding them tightly, he hammers into me, a look of sinful concentration on his face—as if nothing else exists in the entire world but me. As if nothing matters but this moment.
“You feel that, Grace?” he mutters, and I don’t know if he means his cock stretching me, filling me over and over again, or the connection that binds our hearts together like a physical thing. But I do. I feel all of it.
I nod, slipping my hand between us to find my clit. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”
