LOGIN"Hey." Wyatt moved closer, reading her expression. "You're safe. This is controlled and I'll stop the second you say the word."She nodded. "It's not you... it's the thought—""I know what you're thinking." He grabbed a mat from against the wall, spread it on the floor. "Lie down. On your back."Lauren lowered herself to the mat, her heart hammering. Wyatt knelt beside her, his expression completely professional despite the intimacy of the position."I'm going to straddle you," he explained. "Pin your arms. This is the worst-case scenario, attacker on top, you on your back, no room to move. Okay?""Okay," she whispered.He moved over her, his thighs bracketing her hips, his hands catching her wrists and pinning them beside her head. His weight settled onto her, heavy and overwhelming.Lauren's breath caught. Not from fear like she'd worried about. From the feel of him, solid muscle and heat and power, all of it pressing her into the mat. What if this had been a mattress?He said quiet
Thirty minutes later, they were back at her apartment. Wyatt had given her ten minutes to change into workout clothes, leggings and a sports bra under a loose tank top, while he'd done the same, swapping his jeans for athletic shorts and a fitted T-shirt that showed off every muscle he possessed.Which was a lot of muscle.Lauren tried not to stare as they climbed back into his truck. Tried not to notice the way the fabric stretched across his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Tried not to imagine running her hands over all that hard muscle.Failed spectacularly. He hadn't spoken much since finding out she had played him. She worried he was sulking. But he was also making sure they were not getting followed.It wasn't long before they pulled up outside a nondescript building in an industrial area of Brooklyn. No sign, no markings, just a heavy metal door, which had been left open."Where are we?" Lauren asked."Private boxing gym." Wyatt killed the engine. "Owner's an old friend."They
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside a building that Lauren knew.A gun range."Why are we here?" she asked, though she already knew."Because you're going to learn how to shoot." Wyatt killed the engine, turning to look at her. "Basic self-defense, Lauren. You need to know how to protect yourself if I'm not there. First this, then later hand-to-hand combat."She should tell him. Should admit that she already knew how to shoot, that she'd taken a role two years ago as an assassin and had spent weeks at ranges just like this one, discovering she had a natural talent for it.But looking at Wyatt's serious expression, and then thinking of his smug look, she decided she wasn't going to tell him after all.'Why not let him?' she thought, a plan forming. 'Why not let him think I'm completely inexperienced? Why not let him stand behind me, his body pressed against mine, his hands guiding mine, remembering her first lesson?'It was petty. It could be called manipulative. It was exactl
They left around five-thirty, after the doctor Grayson had called finally managed to sedate Emma.Lauren couldn't get the sounds out of her head. Emma's screams as the doctor had approached with the syringe, her desperate pleas for them not to make her sleep, not to take away the pain because the pain was all she had left of Daniel. The way she'd fought them, actually fought them, clinging to Grayson, begging, but the doctor had been worried that Emma could hurt herself and she just needed to rest."Don't make me forget," Emma had sobbed. "Please don't make me forget he's gone. Don't make me sleep. I need to—I need to feel this—""Emma, you need to rest. You are not going to lose your memories, but you need to rest." Grayson tried to calm her down.But they'd done it anyway. Honey holding one hand, Prue holding the other, while the doctor administered the sedative that would give Emma a few hours of peace whether she wanted it or not.Now Lauren sat in the passenger seat of Wyatt's pi
No one argued; Wyatt was the one holding the gun.Wyatt checked the peephole, his body language shifting fractionally. Not relaxing exactly, but changing. The weapon lowered slightly."Emma," he said, his voice gentler now but still firm. "It's military."Emma's face went white. Completely white. She pressed one hand to her mouth, the other to her stomach, and made a sound Lauren had never heard before. Not quite a sob. Not quite a scream. Just... something breaking."No," Emma whispered. "No, no, no—"Wyatt holstered his weapon and opened the door.Two Marines stood in the hallway, dress blues immaculate, faces carefully neutral but eyes full of practiced sympathy. A Casualty Assistance Calls Officer and a chaplain. Lauren recognized them from movies, from news reports, from every military family's worst nightmare made manifest."Miss Emma Taylor?" the CACO said gently. "May we come in?"Emma couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Just stood there frozen, staring at them like they might disa
Wyatt's place wasn't what she'd expected.When they'd pulled up that morning to grab his things, Lauren had been prepared for a basic apartment. Maybe something utilitarian and sparse, the kind of place a man who lived out of duffle bags would call home.Instead, they'd stopped outside a standalone house in one of Manhattan's wealthiest neighborhoods. Six bedrooms. Tastefully decorated. Wow like wow. It was huge."You live here?" she'd asked, staring up at the elegant facade."Yeah." Wyatt had looked almost embarrassed. "My parents' investment company. They left it to me. Figured I should use it."Right. She'd forgotten—Wyatt came from old money. The kind that bought houses like this without blinking.The contrast between the man and his home had been jarring. Wyatt in his tactical gear and permanent scowl, living in a space that screamed refined elegance. It didn't fit, except maybe it did. Maybe there was more to him than the dangerous ex-SEAL exterior he showed the world.They'd be
Wednesday, October 18th, 6:35 PMHoney stepped out of the Taylor Industries building into the crisp evening Amanda fell into step beside her, professional vigilance as she scanned the area looking for any trouble. Namely Riley."Busy Day." Amanda commented still looking around.Honey had decided no
Honey's entire body shuddered as pleasure exploded through her, her inner walls clamping down on Grayson's finger. Her hand gripped the edge of the conference table so tightly her knuckles turned white as she fought to stay silent, biting her lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. The orgasm c
Grayson laughter filled the room, shocking Honey that he was taking her outburst so well. She wasn't sure how he would feel about Morgan really knowing about them instead of her guesses. But Morgan was already creating drama without her saying anything. Honey could not just stand there and take it.
Monday, October 16th, 7:15 AMHoney stood in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at her reflection with a mix of determination and dread. Today was the day. No more Joy Smith. No more hiding behind ugly suits and brown wigs.Well, one last time.She'd spent most of Sunday at her father's estate,







