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The flight back is different. The adrenaline of the takeoff has been replaced by a heavy, magnetic pull between us. We don't talk much through the headsets this time around. I keep my arm around her, and she leans her head against my shoulder, her eyes closed as we drift over the dark expanse of the water. I can feel the warmth of her body through my coat, a steady heat that makes the cold reality of our situation seem far away.

As the city lights reappear, Miller checks in. "Heading back to the airfield, Mr. Thorne?"

I look down at Harper. She’s looking at me, her gray eyes dark with a sudden, sharp intensity. There’s a challenge there, and a surrender. We’re at the edge of something, the moment where the goal has to become something real.

"Actually," Harper says, her voice clear over the comms, "why don't we see that vault of yours, Jaxson?"

My heart does a slow, heavy roll in my chest. I look at the pilot. "Change of plans, Miller. We’re going to the penthouse."

The helicopter performs a slow, sweeping U-turn over the downtown core, banking away from the airfield and toward the cluster of high-rises that line the waterfront. I watch the skyline view shift, the familiar geometry of the city rearranging itself as we head toward my home. I’ve never wanted anything in my life as much as I want Harper Coleman right this second.

We land on the roof of my building, the wind from the rotors whipping Harper’s hair across her face. I lead her toward the elevator, the silence of the rooftop absolute once the engines cut. I scan my watch on the keypad, and the doors slide open. “Cool trick.” Harper laughs.

“Wait until you see the rest of my tricks.” The elevator ride is a descent into a different kind of tension. We stand inches apart, the air in the small car practically humming with the things we aren't saying.

I can see the reflection of us in the polished steel doors. I look like a man who has finally found what he was looking for, and she looks like a woman who is about to jump into the deep end without a float.

When the doors slide open directly into the private foyer outside my door, I use my watch to open this door, too, and the lights hum to life, illuminating the stark, minimalist beauty of the space. It’s exactly as I described it—cold, perfect, and empty. But as Harper steps across the threshold, the museum-like quality of the room begins to fade. She brings color into the gray, a vibrant, living presence that makes the expensive furniture look like what it is, just things.

I close the door behind us, the lock clicking into place with a finality that echoes through the room. I don't turn on any more lights. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer enough illumination, the city below casting a blue-and-amber glow over the hardwood floors. Harper walks to the window, looking out at the expanse of the Sound, her silhouette framed by the lights of the harbor.

"You weren't kidding," she says softly. "It is a vault."

"It is," I say, walking up behind her. I don't touch her yet, but I’m close enough to feel the heat radiating from her back. I can’t keep the words back one more second. “I need you.”

She turns around, and the distance between us is gone. I reach out, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her gently toward me. “Shut up and kiss me,” she whispers against my lips. When my mouth finally meets hers, it’s not the tentative, cautious kiss from before. It’s an explosion, a desperate, hungry claim that has been building since the moment I saw her in that emerald dress.

She moans into my mouth, her hands fisting in the lapels of my coat, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. My icy shell doesn't just melt; it shatters, leaving nothing but the raw, unyielding need for this woman. I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carry her toward the bedroom, my movements driven by a single-minded focus that makes a Game 7 overtime feel like a warm-up.

“Are you sure?” I ask as I set her down on the edge of the bed with my hands shaking like a rookie’s.

“Positive.” She smiles as my fingers fumble with the buttons of her coat, all thumbs and no finesse. She helps me, her breaths coming in short, hungry little gasps that go straight to my head. The fabric disappears, piece by piece, pooling on the floor until there’s nothing left to hide.

Holy hell.

Harper’s naked on my bed, and fuck if my brain doesn’t just shut right down. I can’t even pick a place to start. Her body is everything I ever wanted. Tight, perfect curves, soft skin, and the prettiest goddamn tits I’ve ever seen. My hands shake as I run them over her sides, memorizing the slope of her waist, the dip beneath her ribs, the little shiver that passes through her when I cup her breast and thumb her nipple.

“Somebody’s eager,” she teases, grinning at me, like she knows she owns every single inch of me right now.

“I left eager in the rearview mirror hours ago,” I mutter, because it’s the truth. I grab her ankles and yank her to the edge of the bed, loving her squeal. Then I drop to my knees, spreading her thighs and getting my first real look at her pussy. Fuck me. I want to taste her so bad I almost forget how to breathe.

She’s already wet, her folds glistening, and the second I drag my tongue over her clit, she jerks hard and gasps my name. Christ, the sound nearly finishes me. I eat her like I’ve been starving for years, sucking, licking, fucking her opening with my tongue until she’s writhing and clawing at the damn sheets, sobbing out curses and my name in equal measure.

I fucking love the sound of her voice coming apart like that. Every time she sobs my name, it adds fuel to the fire. I can’t get enough of her, not ever. So, I double down, flatten my tongue against her clit, and suck hard, wanting to memorize exactly what it takes to break her wide open.

“Oh, God, Jaxson,” she cries, her thighs shaking around my head. “Don’t stop, please, please, please…”

Like I could. I’d give up everything for the chance to have her melt in my hands like this.

Her hips jerk up, and I have to dig my fingers into her silky skin to keep her pinned down. I slide a finger inside her and damn near come when her pussy clamps around me like a fucking vise.

“Fuck. You’re perfect,” I mutter, my voice vibrating from the ache in my balls. “Mine. All mine.”

“Make me come,” she gasps and grips my hair tighter, like she never wants to let go.

“Yes, ma’am.” I blow on her clit and curl my finger just a little, searching for the magic spot. Got it. She wails and crashes apart, soaking my hand and my mouth with her sweetness. Christ, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I kiss and suck her until she’s limp, only letting up when she tries to push me away with a trembling hand. Even then, I run my tongue up her thigh, not missing a single inch. Every breath I drag in is filled with her.