Chapter 2: A Sudden Shift
Maria’s fingers trembled as she traced the edge of the marble countertop, the cool surface doing nothing to ground her. The penthouse sprawled around her like a dream—gleaming hardwood, plush rugs, the kind of furniture she’d only seen in magazines. "This is insane," she muttered, more to herself than to him, but the words barely carried over the rush of blood in her ears.
John leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights painting him in gold and shadow. "Insane?" He smirked, taking a lazy drag from the joint between his fingers. "Nah, Officer. This is just Tuesday for me." He exhaled, the smoke curling toward the vaulted ceiling. "Relax. You’re off-duty now."
Her stomach twisted—part guilt, part something else, something warm and reckless. She should’ve cuffed him the second she smelled the weed in his car. Should’ve called it in. But here she was, standing in a stranger’s penthouse, her pulse hammering for all the wrong reasons.
John pushed off the window, strolling toward her with the easy confidence of a man who’d never been told no. "You ever just… let go?" His voice was low, teasing, his fingers brushing her wrist as he plucked the forgotten handcuffs from her belt. "Bet you’d look good in these."
The metal clinked as he dangled them between them, his grin widening at the flush creeping up her neck. Maria swallowed hard. Every rule, every protocol screamed at her to walk away. But the heat in his gaze—the way his thumb traced slow circles on her skin—made her hesitate.
She jerked her hand back, reaching for her Glock out of habit, but the weight felt wrong. Too heavy. Too final. "This isn’t—" Her voice cracked. "I don’t do this."
John chuckled, stepping closer until the scent of his cologne—spice and something darker—wrapped around her. "Yeah, you keep saying that." His breath ghosted over her ear. "But your eyes? They’re screaming yes."
Maria’s chest rose and fell too fast. His lips were right there, inches away, and God help her, she wanted to close the distance. The room tilted, the cannabis haze softening the edges of her resolve.
She didn’t realize she’d moved until her hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him against her. His laugh was rough, triumphant, before his mouth crashed into hers.
The kiss was fire. His tongue swept past her lips, stealing her breath, her thoughts, any last pretense of control. She arched into him, her body betraying her with a moan as his hands slid down her back, pulling her flush against him.
He was hard already, the evidence pressing into her hip, and the sheer want in it unraveled her. Maria shoved him backward, her nails scraping his chest as they stumbled toward the sofa.
John caught himself on the armrest, his eyes blown dark. "That’s it," he growled, yanking her into his lap. His teeth grazed her throat, sending a shock straight to her core. "Tell me you don’t want this."
She couldn’t.
His mouth found hers again, hungry and demanding, and Maria let herself