Chapter Thirty-Seven Abby

Sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains, and I stirred, feeling an unfamiliar weight around my waist.

My eyes fluttered open to find myself entangled in Nathan's arms, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm beneath my cheek. I guessed we hadn't had sex last night–I was still wearing my t-shirt and panties from the night before, him in sweats–and it shocked me that we had just fallen asleep together.

Like a real couple.

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the warmth of his body, the secure embrace that seemed so at odds with who he was—a stark reminder that the man I was beginning to know was layered far beyond the brutal man who had kept me prisoner in his apartment, who used people as fertilizer.

The events of the night before played back in my head like an innocuous dream—how we'd shared a bottle of wine, the rich taste of bolognese still lingering on my tongue. We had sunk into the couch, side by side, as the action on the screen unfolded; Terminator 2, his choice, gripping enough to make me forget, if only for a couple of hours, the terror that had marked our earlier encounters. The comfort of the evening was foreign, a contradiction to the chaos that had brought us together.

Yet, as I gazed up at him, taking in the relaxed line of his jaw, the unguarded expression on his face, reality clawed its way back in. This man was a killer, feared by many, and I was not simply a woman in his arms—I was a hostage, an FBI agent caught in the web of a criminal empire.

A shudder ran through me as I remembered the violence, the threats, the dark intensity of our first…no, our second, encounter. It was all too easy to be swayed by this gentle version of him, to mistake the calm after the storm for peace. But I couldn't afford to lose sight of the truth—not when my freedom and justice hung in the balance.

Nathan shifted then, his movements stirring the air between us. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing those deep eyes that had seen so much, done so much. They fixed on me, a flicker of surprise giving way to recognition, as the morning painted him in a less sinister, more human light. And for a fleeting second, I allowed myself the luxury of forgetting who we were—agents of opposing fates bound together in a dance too dangerous to last.

"Morning," Nathan's voice was rough with sleep.

"Morning," I echoed, my hand stilling on him for a moment as we locked eyes. The intensity between us didn't need words or violent passion to confirm its existence; it was there in his steady gaze, in the way my pulse thrummed under his touch.

He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, and something like warmth flickered across his features. "You're full of surprises, Abby."

I couldn't help the half-smile that tugged at my lips.

"Didn't take you for a morning person," he said, his voice still thick with traces of sleep but laced with that familiar edge—a reminder of who he was, of the power he wielded.

"Didn't take you for someone who sleeps," I countered, trying to keep the mood light despite the gravity of our situation.

"Have to rest sometimes," he replied. "Especially with everything going on."

Fuck…we were just having a conversation, and for some reason, it was almost annoying that he wasn't fucking me right then and there. He smelled so good and I wanted him so much. Fuck the bruises on my skin. Fuck the way he had told me I was just a hole for his pleasure.

My orgasms with him were something else; a high I felt like I would always keep chasing.

But…he was right there. If he had used me, why couldn't I also use him? If this whole thing wasn't him being my boyfriend–and fuck, there was a part of me that really wanted him to be my boyfriend–then I should get to take pleasure in it too.

Sometimes, on my own terms.

"Everything going on…like what?" I repeated softly, wondering if he would start sharing more details–if he had grown comfortable enough with me to give me something useful.

"It doesn't matter," he said as I grabbed his hand. "Right now, it's just us. You have any plans for the morning?"

I smirked. "Just this."

I pushed myself up slightly and hooked my leg over his to straddle him, watching as his eyes darkened, surprise evident in his gaze. But he didn't stop me. He didn't try to take control. He let me guide his hand between my legs, let me rock against his fingers, his palm pressing just right against that sweet spot.

"Abby...God..." his groan vibrated against my skin. "Naughty girl."

I bit my lip, hiding a satisfied smirk as I leaned down to press my lips against his. He returned the kiss fiercely, snaking an arm around me to pull me closer until there was no space left between us.

"Good morning to you too," he finally muttered against my neck, sending shivers coursing through my body. His fingers delved deeper, teasing me, making me writhe atop him. God, this man was driving me insane, and I was loving every second of it.

As his other hand found its way to the small of my back, anchoring me to him, I let out a gasp. The sensation was overwhelming, his presence intoxicating. The tension between us mounted until it was all I could focus on–the heat radiating off him, the feeling of his fingers against me, the arousal in his gaze. "Are you going to get off humping me?" Nathan asked softly.

"Maybe," I breathed back, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. My hips continued to rock against him, a rhythm that had become instinctual. The growing bulge beneath my thighs only fueled my desire, making my body buzz with anticipation.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "That's my girl," he murmured, pressing his lips to the shell of my ear before trailing hot kisses down my neck. His hands roamed southward, grazing the curve of my ass before pulling me flush against him, and then I was humping him through his sweats, grinding against his hard cock. It was enough to get me off, I didn't even need more…

…I just wanted it.

I gasped at the sudden contact, feeling him hard and ready beneath me. I reveled in the primal pleasure of watching this dangerous man unravel beneath me. It was an intoxicating combination–the familiar scent of him mixed with our shared need.

"Say it again," I whispered desperately, needing to hear those words once more.

His eyes softened slightly as he met my gaze. "My girl," he repeated in a low growl. "Do you want me inside you?"

It was the first time he had actually asked–other than that first, hurried time at the club, which felt like another life entirely. The answer was obviously yes, obviously, definitely, entirely yes.

But he was asking me.

I didn't respond at first, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I was caught between a rock and a hard place—literally.

"Yes," I finally admitted, my lips brushing his earlobe as I spoke. The admission sent a rush of heat flooding through me, a mix of anticipation and anxiousness. Because this man…he was the enemy, a killer. He had kidnapped me, brutalized me.

And I wanted him inside me more than anything else in the world.

Nathan's eyes flashed with something akin to triumph, and he pulled me down, his lips clashing with mine in a fiery kiss that left me breathless. He flipped us effortlessly, his body caging mine beneath him as he slid his sweats down his body in what felt like one swift movement, moved my panties to the side and pressed into me.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. With a low growl, he buried himself even deeper, and I cried out in sheer ecstasy. His fingers dug into my hips like they were anchoring him to reality. The sound of our ragged breaths and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin filled the room.

But it wasn't…frenzied. It wasn't like before. My pleasure wasn't something to punish me with, something for him to play with. He was careful, almost reverent; after first rutting into me, he let me get used to how big he was.

"You must be sore," he said softly into my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.

His thrusts slowed then, but were no less intense. His fingers dug into my hips more, his eyes boring into mine with such intensity that it felt like he was looking right through me. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel him deeper. My hands roamed over his hard body, tracing the dragon tattoo that snaked its way down his side as he continued to move inside me.

"Fuck," he groaned as I dug my nails in, and I let out a soft moan of satisfaction. He was losing control, giving into the moment, just like me. And as he moved harder and faster within me, I could feel my climax building like a wellspring about to explode.

"Nathan..." I whimpered, my voice a quiet pleading.

"Hold on," he urged, his voice husky as his hand reached between us, his fingers finding my swollen clit.

I bit down on my lip to stifle a cry as his touch sent waves of pleasure through me. His strokes were measured, deliberate, matching the steady rhythm of his thrusts.

"Good girl," he purred approvingly when I managed to hold back a moan. The endearment sent a fresh wave of desire rushing through me. It was wrong and degrading but the way he said it made me feel...wanted.

"Nathan," I stuttered out, feeling the knot in my lower belly tightening.

"That's it...come for me," he whispered, his lips pressing against my throat, teeth grazing softly as if marking me as his own.

"Good girl," he growled in my ear again, his voice an intoxicating blend of dominance and desire. His fingers moved faster over me, his expert touch bringing me right to the brink. "Come for me, Abby."

The world blurred as an intense wave of pleasure washed over me. I clung to him, my nails digging into his sculpted back as I cried out his name. Nathan stilled for a moment, his body tensing before he gave one final thrust and found his own release.

We laid there for a moment, catching our breaths. Then he rolled off me, pulling me into his side as we laid there in silence. I let my fingers trace the dragon tattoo on his chest, fascinated by the intricate details that were hidden beneath his clothes.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. It was then I realized how far I'd wandered down a path I never intended to take.

I was falling for him.

And I was falling for him hard.

I told myself to get a grip. Stockholm syndrome would've been so fucking dumb. I was a trained FBI agent, and I wasn't going to let the fact that this man's dick was this good cloud my judgment.

At least I hoped not.

"Nathan," I started, hesitant, "I need to go back to my place. There are some things I should get." My words hung between us, a reminder of the life I had before all this.

"I don't want you going anywhere without me."

"So come with me," I said. "You want to sell the story, right?"

He stiffened for a moment, his embrace tightening around me. "Okay," he said after a pause, his voice betraying a reluctance I hadn't expected. "We can do that."

"And," I continued, gathering courage like armor, "my dad. I can't put off seeing him any longer. He's worried sick."

Nathan let out a long breath, and I felt him nod against me. "Tonight, then. Dinner with your father. You pick the place." His tone was resigned but firm. "But Abby, you're not doing this alone either. I'm coming with you."

"Of course," I agreed, my mind already racing with what this meant. A meeting with my dad, Nathan by my side. What the fuck was I getting my dad into? He was smart…he would be able to tell something was up, to put the pieces together. He'd cracked down on some of the most dangerous mobsters in Boston, and Nathan would make a good target.

I was playing a very dangerous game.

He caught me staring as he stirred, a lazy smile playing on his lips before it slipped away, replaced by the hardened mask of the assassin I knew too well. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, muscles tensing as he stood up.

"I have business to attend to. You're welcome to do whatever you want in the apartment. Just remember, this house," he swept his hand vaguely in the air, "it's got eyes everywhere." His gaze locked onto mine, a challenge and a warning wrapped into one. "So don't try anything."

I nodded, the reality settling heavily on my shoulders. The air conditioning had chilled the room, so I pulled the sweater back over me. It felt like armor against the chill of his words, and I pulled it tighter around me. This wasn't just about survival anymore; this was about gathering ammunition.

Maybe, if I played this right, I could win.

"Understood," I replied, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts.

Nathan disappeared into the adjoining bathroom, the sound of running water hammering home the point that our bubble had burst. Here, in his world, every sweet moment came with a shadow, a reminder that freedom was just out of reach, dangling like a carrot on a stick.

I glanced at the door he'd left ajar, a sliver of opportunity beckoning. But no, not today. Today was about playing the long game, about using the cards I'd been dealt to dismantle the empire he'd built, brick by bloody brick.

Abby Harper, FBI agent, was not about to let Stockholm Syndrome cloud her judgment—not when her father's worried frown and the badge she'd earned were etched so clearly in her mind.

Maybe I didn't just get out of this alive.

Maybe I got out of this…by winning.