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I want her.

Thirty days doesn't sound like an arrangement. It sounds like a fucking countdown.

I should stop this.

I know I should.

Layla is investigating me. I'm keeping secrets from her.

This entire arrangement began because I wanted to control what she discovers about my grandfather. Taking her to bed complicates everything.

Professionally.

Personally.

Catastrophically.

And if what I'm feeling is even remotely close to what I've watched happen to the Rovers?

Taking her to bed might not be the only complication. Falling in love with her might be.

Maybe it’s too late. Maybe I already am.

Fuck.

I take one step toward her. Layla doesn't retreat.

I take another.

She doesn’t back up. Doesn’t say stop.

Her chin tips back as I stop in front of her. Close enough to smell her. Close enough to touch.

“Layla.”

Her name comes out rough. Barely more than breath.

Her eyes search mine. I'm waiting.

For permission. For rejection.

For her to make a joke and break whatever spell we've been under all night.

Maybe I'm waiting for her to save me from making the one decision I already know I'm incapable of regretting.

Her gaze drops to my mouth.

Then rises again.

“Layla?”

It’s a question this time. And she understands it.

Of course she fucking does. My Firecracker understands everything.

Her lips part. And she gives me the one word I've been dying to hear since the first moment I laid eyes on her.

“Yes.”