Page 134 of Press Play

“Were you thinking about it the whole time?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I just remembered it was here.”

I lean over and kiss her before getting out of bed. “Good girl.” I stroll over to the dresser and grab the camera I strategically hid between some books.

“Are you serious?” she scoffs. “I knew you were up to something.”

With the camera in hand, I stop the recording and let out a slow breath. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.” Her answer comes without hesitation. Her hazel eyes meet mine, full of trust and conviction. “I’ve never been so sure about anything.”

Her confidence steadies me in a way I didn’t expect. I nod, placing the camera carefully on the nightstand before crawling back into bed beside her. The warmth of her skin calls to me, grounding me as much as her words. “I’ll edit it in the morning.”

She tilts her head, curiosity lighting her expression. “What time will you post it?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” I admit, rolling onto my side to face her.

Her lips part slightly, hesitation flickering for just a moment before she asks, “What time were you supposed to meet Amanda again?”

“Eight. She was rather insistent after I texted her that I was ‘in.’” My brow lifts as I study her face. “Why?”

Her lips curve into a sly smirk, one that tugs at the corner of my own mouth. Damn, she’s trouble.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, her tone dipping into something soft but undeniably certain.

“With everything I am,” I reply without a second thought. It’s the only truth I know anymore.

“Good.” She shifts onto her side, propping her head up with one hand as she peers at me. The playful glint in her eyes deepens, and her leg brushes against mine under the covers. “Because I have an idea.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Theo

The video blursfor a second as I pause it again, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. Wren’s face is frozen on the screen, her cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft gasp, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to slam the laptop shut.

I’ve been at this for hours, scrubbing through the footage, tweaking the lighting, making sure every frame is perfect and every inch of her face is blurred, but it’s not the technical stuff that’s tripping me—it’s everything else.

Her.

Us.

The way she looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters in her world, sends a jolt straight through me. I rewind a few seconds and watch again as she arches beneath me, her hands clutching at my back, her voice whispering my name.

My throat tightens.

I replayed the moment we stared into each other’s eyes and confessed our love at least twenty times.

She’s so open, so vulnerable, so completelyherself, and all I can think is,I don’t deserve this.

I sit back, rubbing my hands over my face, trying to clear my head. But the memories come rushing in—the way she kissed mebefore we fell asleep. How she rested her head on my chest, her smile soft and content.

And now, here I am, trying to turn this into something we can use against Amanda. Wren gave me everything at night—her trust, her love, herbody—and here I am, picking apart every frame, every moment.

I press play again, and the audio turns on. My voice, low and hoarse, whispering her name as my hands slide over her bare skin. Her laugh, soft and breathy, fills the room, and for a second, it’s like I’m back there with her.

But the doubt creeps in.

I pause the video on myself this time, my face close to hers, my expression raw. I look at the screen and see every flaw, every imperfection. My hair’s a mess, my jaw too tight, my eyes too desperate.

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