Chapter 23
1214 Words
Sasha lay still, Quinn’s soft breaths rising and falling against her stomach. She could feel the weight of his arm across her waist, the heat of his body pressed gently to her side. Every instinct screamed for her to push him away—to create space, to reassert control. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not this time.
She stared at the ceiling, her hazel-green eyes reflecting faint moonlight bleeding through the thin curtains. Her breath was calm, her body relaxed, but her mind churned with a thousand unspoken thoughts.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She was trained better than this. Taught not to feel, not to get close. Attachment was a liability, vulnerability a death sentence.
And yet… here he was. Curled up next to her like she was a harbor in a storm.
She closed her eyes. The warmth of Quinn’s presence ignited memories she’d buried long ago—memories of the boy she trained with, the one who made her laugh during brutal drills, who once snuck her stolen chocolate on her birthday. He was the only one who ever got past her defenses. The only one she’d let in. And the only one who’d paid the price.
She remembered the mission. The ambush. The moment he threw himself in front of her, taking the bullet meant for her heart. The way his blood soaked her clothes, how his eyes stayed locked on hers even as life faded from them. He never said a word. He didn’t have to.
It took her years to feel anything after that.
Until Quinn.
She slowly lowered her hand and gently ran her fingers through his dark hair. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake. A small, sleepy sigh escaped his lips. The sound tugged something deep inside her chest.
Damn him.
He was persistent, stubborn, irritating—and yet, sincere. Honest. Real. Despite everything he’d seen, he still carried some kind of hope in him, like a candle flickering against the wind. She’d tried to extinguish it more than once. And still he stood. Still he looked at her like she was something more than what she was made to be.
She hated it.
She craved it.
Her fingers trailed down from his hair to his shoulder, tracing the edge of his collarbone. She felt the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. He was strong, capable, smart—and he had a way of seeing through her, into her. And that terrified her more than anything else.
Because if he truly saw her… would he still look at her the same?
She leaned her head back against the pillow and let out a slow breath.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she whispered, barely audible.
And maybe… maybe she would, too.
The danger wasn’t just in their mission, in the people hunting them or the secrets they chased. The real danger was right here, in this quiet moment. In the silence between their heartbeats. In the feelings slowly threading themselves through her like poison and honey all at once.
Sasha closed her eyes and let her hand rest lightly over Quinn’s.
Just for tonight, she told herself.
Just this once.
She would stay.
Not because he asked.
But because she wanted to.
And that terrified her most of all.
The room was quiet except for the soft hum of wind brushing against the windows. Morning light bled through the sheer curtains, casting a soft gold hue across the room. Quinn stirred beneath the sheets, his head pounding like a jackhammer behind his eyes. He groaned, squeezing his lids shut as the ache behind them flared.
His body felt heavy, sluggish. His limbs refused to cooperate. Then he noticed the warmth beneath his head—soft, firm, and rhythmically rising and falling with breath. It was comforting. Familiar.
Without thinking, he nuzzled deeper into it.
A scent drifted up and filled his nose—fresh apples with a hint of warm spices. Grounding. Anchoring. He wrapped his arms tighter around whatever he was holding onto, sighing softly. It felt good. Safe.
Then a dry, amused voice said above him, “I don’t think you can get any closer unless you plan on getting inside me.”
Quinn’s eyes snapped open.
He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and slowly processed the fact that his face was nestled into a very real body.
Not just any body—Sasha’s.
He quickly sat up, a bolt of panic hitting him like a freight train. Bad idea.
The room spun violently.
He clutched his head, wincing as a deep throbbing pain pulsed behind his temples. “Ugh—what the hell...”
Sasha remained exactly where she was, lying on her back, looking up at him with a subtle smile and an expression of pure amusement.
“Easy there, cowboy,” she said. “You’re gonna want to move slow unless you enjoy watching your breakfast come back up.”
Quinn steadied himself, drawing in a sharp breath. He rubbed his face and looked at her again. “Did we...?” he asked cautiously, his brow furrowing. “Did we do anything?”
Sasha’s lips twitched. “You don’t remember?”
“Faintly,” Quinn said, now rubbing the back of his neck, guilt and confusion mixing in his chest.
Sasha shifted onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow, her smirk growing wicked. “Oh, yeah. We had hardcore s*x. You were wild. At one point you barked like a dog and begged me to tie you up. Got real weird.”
Quinn’s face went white. “Wait—what?!”
She let out a genuine laugh, unable to hold the lie any longer. “Relax, agent boy. Clothes are still on. Nothing happened.”
Relief crashed over Quinn like a wave. He glanced down to confirm—shirt, pants, all still on. He let out a breath.
“You were high as hell,” she said, stretching lazily. “You asked me to stay. Said you didn’t want to be alone.”
Quinn looked at her, his guard softening. “Thanks... for staying.”
Sasha’s expression shifted, just for a heartbeat—something gentler flickered in her eyes before her usual smirk returned. “Yeah, well. You were kind of adorable. Like a lost puppy with a gun.”
She stood from the bed, her silver-blonde hair tousled, cheeks still flushed from sleep. “If we had had s*x, by the way…” She looked over her shoulder with a smirk, “You definitely wouldn’t have forgotten. I’m unforgettable.”
Quinn couldn’t help the way his lips tugged into a small smile despite the pounding in his head.
She moved toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get you something for that head before it explodes. I’ve got painkillers and the strongest cup of coffee this side of Europe with your name on it.”
Quinn slowly stood up, swaying slightly before regaining his balance. “Lead the way,” he muttered, following her into the hallway.
And though the headache still lingered, something else gnawed at him just as fiercely.
The memory of how safe he felt wrapped around her.
And how badly he didn’t want that feeling to go away.
- Writer
