Page 24 of Her Dirty Defender

Later, wrapped in sheets that now smell like sex and him, he trails callused fingers along my spine.

Tracing the scars on the knuckles of his other hand, I murmur. “I’m trying to remember all my reasons for keeping you at arm's length.”

His fingers tangle with mine, stilling my restless touch. “You never told me your name.”

“Would it change anything if I did?” Even as I say it, I know it would change everything. Names make things real. Names mean this isn't a story I can lock away in the morning.

He shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to look at me. His eyes are dark like ebony in the muted light from the lamp. “You're already planning your escape,” he says softly. It's not a question.

I turn my face into the pillow. “That obvious?”

“Only because I’m usually the one planning the escape.” His chuckle rumbles through his chest before he sobers. He cups my chin and tilts my face toward him, his eyes holding mine. “Stay.”

“I can’t.” My voice cracks.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. I told myself this was about release. One night. No names. But now, with his scent on my skin and the echo of his hands still burning into me, I feel... unsettled. Like something cracked open and I don’t know how to put it back.

He’s quiet for a long moment, studying me. Then he smiles, slow and dangerous. “My friends call me Shadow.”

My eyes widen. “I told you—no names.”

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “Yeah, but now you'll know who made you come on his tongue and his cock when you leave in the morning.” He says it like tonight is the beginning of something, even though we both know it’s not.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, pulling me closer. “Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

I close my eyes, letting his warmth seep into my bones.

Tomorrow, I'll remember my rules.

Tomorrow, I'll be strong.

But tonight? Tonight, I let myself dream of a world where running isn't the answer. Where staying is worth the risk.

* * *

I slip out before dawn while he’s still sleeping. It's better this way—clean and simple. No awkward goodbyes, no morning-after regrets. Just one perfect night with a gorgeous stranger. Well, almost a stranger.

My friends call me Shadow.

It suits him—dangerous, untouchable, and meant to fade with the darkness.

I tell myself it doesn't matter that I never learned his real name.

And as the sun rises and I drive back to Clover Canyon, I can't shake the feeling that I've made a terrible mistake. Not because I had sex for the first time with a man called Shadow—but because I know I left a part of me behind in that room at The Honey Pot.

Chapter7

Beckett

The sun beats down mercilessly as Angus and I trudge along the gravel path toward the guest accommodation.

“Tell me again why I agreed to this?” I grunt and wipe the sweat from my brow, already questioning my choices.

Angus leans against the fence, arms crossed, his expression half-amused, half-knowing. “Because you're a man of your word. Always have been.” He grins. “Even when that word was given over whiskey and war stories.”

I snort. “Right. Honor and all that shit.”

"That, and you're running on fumes and need something to do that doesn't involve getting shot at for a paycheck."

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