The Forbidden Desires

Dangerous Proximity

The rain pelted down in sheets, turning the abandoned warehouse into a symphony of echoes. Agent Elena Mercer, dripping and fuming, slammed her back against the cold steel pillar, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her hand clutched her side where the bullet grazed, adrenaline keeping the pain at bay—for now.

Damn him.

From across the dimly lit room, the shadow of a familiar figure emerged. Agent Cole Davis. Her rival. Her nemesis. He looked as infuriatingly composed as ever, even with the rain slicking his hair back and his tactical vest tight against his muscled frame.

"You're a hard woman to catch, Mercer," Cole drawled, the corners of his mouth lifting into that arrogant smirk she hated—despised. It made her want to put a bullet between his eyes. Yet, at the same time, it made her blood rush in ways it had no business rushing.

"And you're a persistent bastard," she hissed, trying not to wince as she shifted to a better stance. He was getting closer.

"I was just doing my job," he replied, voice low, dangerous. "Same as you."

"Your job seems to involve shooting me," she retorted, though they both knew it wasn't him who pulled the trigger back at the docks. No, that pleasure belonged to the people they'd been fighting against—before everything went sideways.

His eyes flicked to the blood staining her shirt. "You're hurt."

"Nothing I can't handle."

But he was already too close, close enough that his body heat seemed to cut through the chill of the warehouse. Elena's fingers tightened on her gun, but she didn't raise it. Not yet.

Cole's hand shot out, catching her wrist. She hissed at the contact, but there was no denying the pulse of electricity it sent through her. He leaned in, his lips inches from her ear. "Let me take a look."

"No." Her protest was weak, even to her own ears. But it wasn't her wound that had her breath catching. It was the proximity—the closeness of a man who had spent years trying to outmaneuver her, who was always there in the shadows, both a step ahead and behind.

"You think I haven't noticed the way you look at me, Elena?" Cole's voice was a dangerous purr now, his hand still gripping her wrist, but softer, his thumb brushing across her pulse point. "You think I haven't felt this tension?"

Her throat tightened. She wanted to snap at him, to deny it. But the words wouldn't come. Because he wasn't wrong. Every time they crossed paths, whether it was in the heat of battle or the chill of an interrogation room, there was a fire between them—one she could never fully extinguish.

She could feel his breath on her neck now, and when his lips barely brushed her skin, it sent a shockwave through her system. Instinct kicked in, but instead of pushing him away, her free hand shot up to grip the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Cole's hand slid from her wrist to her waist, gripping tight as his lips finally met hers—rough, insistent. It was a kiss born of frustration, anger, and years of unresolved tension. She bit down on his lip, drawing a growl from him, and he pressed her harder against the pillar, his hands roaming possessively.

For a moment, the world outside the warehouse didn't exist. It was just them—two agents locked in a battle of dominance, both unwilling to back down. His hands slid under her soaked shirt, the heat of his palms on her bare skin sending shivers down her spine. She gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing, demanding.

Their rivalry had always been about control. Neither willing to submit, neither willing to yield. And here, in the dim shadows of a forgotten warehouse, it was no different.

But for once, neither of them minded losing.......