The night was dark and silent around us. Hours of tense waiting, planning, and pretending had frayed every nerve. I could still feel Damon's gaze, steady and watchful as we'd moved through the final details of our setup. Now, alone in this small, dimly lit room, the tension that had been building between us was almost palpable.
Damon leaned back against the window, his eyes fixed on me in a way that felt impossible to ignore. I was pacing, keeping myself moving, trying to burn off the adrenaline coursing through me. But no matter what I did, I couldn't shake the awareness of him.
"So what now?" he asked, his voice low, soft. He watched me like he was reading every thought I tried to keep hidden.
"We wait," I replied, my voice tight. "And we're good at waiting, right?"
"Speak for yourself." He smirked, but the intensity in his eyes hadn't faded. "If this is a waiting game, you're not making it any easier."
I stopped pacing, locking eyes with him, feeling something snap inside me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He pushed off the wall, his gaze fierce. "It means, Olivia, I can't keep pretending there's nothing between us. This game we're playing—whatever we keep telling ourselves it is—it stopped being just about the mission a long time ago."
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, like a dam breaking, we closed the space between us, and everything else faded. His hands found my waist, pulling me closer as his lips met mine, all of the tension, all of the need that had been building for so long pouring out. I pressed against him, feeling his heartbeat match the frantic rhythm of my own, and nothing else mattered.
His mouth was warm, insistent, a challenge I was more than ready to meet. Our breaths mixed, fast and ragged, as our hands moved over each other, each touch more urgent than the last. I tugged at his shirt, pulling it free, wanting him as close as possible, needing to feel something solid in a world that had been spiraling out of control.
As we fell back onto the bed, all thoughts of restraint and professionalism faded. It was only him and me, nothing between us but heat, as we lost ourselves completely.
The next morning, the cold light of dawn crept through the window, casting a faint glow over the room. I blinked awake, the memories of the night before flickering back in fragments. Damon lay beside me, his arm draped over my waist, his expression softened by sleep. For a moment, I let myself linger in that warmth, savoring the quiet intimacy.
But reality crashed back as my phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Damon, and grabbed it, seeing Captain Morris's name on the screen.
"We'll be there," I said quietly, after a brief exchange of words, my voice steady even though my heart was racing. "Yes, sir. On our way now."
I felt Damon stir, and as he opened his eyes, a slow, sleepy grin spread across his face. "Morris?"
I nodded, pulling my hair back and trying to shake off the haze of last night. "He wants us back at headquarters for a debrief. Guess our cover worked."
He sat up, his expression shifting to one of regret and something else I couldn't quite place. "About last night—Olivia..."
I cut him off, giving him a small smile. "Let's not overthink it. We're here to do a job, and right now, that has to come first."
A shadow crossed his face, but he nodded. "Right. The job." He stood, pulling on his clothes, though his gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary. "But whatever happens, know that last night... that was real."
I met his eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. "I know. But we both know what's at stake. This killer's making his move, and we can't afford distractions."
His jaw tightened, and I saw the flicker of frustration in his expression. But he nodded, stepping back, letting the distance between us grow again.
As we left the room and headed toward headquarters, the connection between us hung heavy, unspoken but undeniable. And as much as I tried to shake it off, I knew things would never be the same.
And as we moved back into the game, the stakes higher than ever, I couldn't shake the feeling that no matter what happened next, Damon and I were in this together, for better or worse.

YOU ARE READING
The Darkest Hour
Mystery / ThrillerOlivia is a profiler who studies the minds of serial killers. When a rash of brutal crimes strikes her city, she's partnered with private investigator Damon-a notorious bad boy with a dark past. They clash immediately, but the chemistry between them...