I felt like I was going to go out of my mind.

I was sitting at my desk—Jesus H. Christ, I couldn’t believe I had a desk—going over some goddamn form that I needed filled out before I went home, a form I could have sworn I filled out at least three times already that day. I was fairly certain that this was what going insane felt like.

It had been over three months since I’d met Chrissy—three months of planning, getting permits, dealing with bureaucratic red tape… It had been the most boring, frustrating three months of my entire life, but now that we were so close to the actual opening of the dispensary, I had decided to push through it. Once all this shit was taken care of, everything would get easier.

The moment I got back home, the prez made clear that as far as the business went, I was completely in charge, which was not something was totally prepared for. I’d never run a business in my life, and with all the red tape—and most of all, the responsibility of running it all myself—there were times where I thought that I might just throw in the towel.

But after everything that had happened, I was determined to see this through, to prove to myself more than anyone that I was capable of holding my own, even if I wasn’t meant to take a real leading role in the club—that would be for the next VP, once they’d finished picking one. And thankfully, I had the support of my so-called “investment supervisor” to remind me that I wasn’t alone.

Chrissy had moved with me back home a month after the incident at the club. She had started going to counseling after the confrontation with Sergei and was finally starting to get some closure, though we both knew there would still be a long way to go. But things had definitely started to improve, and I just the other day I had found a pamphlet for the dates and locations for the Julliard auditions in the area. She may end up moving across the country, but I knew she’d have my back even there. But I think before that she’s going to need to take some time to learn not to look over her shoulder every minute of the day.

After the dust up at Casa d’Falcone, according to a news report that had aired a few days after, the leader of a Russian human trafficking network had died in a shootout with federal agents, along with several supposed members of an organized crime syndicate. Two rather familiar faces were shown receiving commendations outside of the Nevada field office of the FBI, and as far as I knew, that was all anyone else knew of the fate of Sergei. There was no mention of Lonnie Caputo, and I had the feeling that it would stay that way, though somewhere in the desert I imagine a few worms are eating rather well.

It turned out that living together with Chrissy wasn’t so bad—at least, not as bad as I’d thought it might be. We butted heads a few times, but only over small things, and nothing that couldn’t be settled with some “negotiation” between the sheets. The truth was Chrissy and I worked well together, and weren’t the kind of people to get mad over shit that didn’t matter. After all we’d been through, we knew how quick everything could be over and sweating small shit only wasted precious time.

“I’ll never get used to seeing you at that thing,” she said. I looked up. She was leaning against the doorway just like she had before our first time together. “Where’s that badass biker I was sleeping with? All I see is some desk jockey with a leather jacket.”

“Ouch,” I laughed, pushing back from my desk. “That was cold.”

“You know I’m only teasing,” she said, sauntering over. I’d never get over the way she moved, those hips swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. “I like teasing you.”

“I’m fully aware,” I said, a grin starting to spread across my lips. “But I get the feeling that this isn’t just a social call.”

“Booty calls aren’t considered social anymore?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip. “I must not have gotten the memo.”

I smirked up at her, sliding my hands up along her legs to come to rest on her hips. I pulled her closer, drawing out a soft yelp of surprise as I opened my legs enough for her stand between them.

“This is a little public, don’t you think?” I asked, glancing toward the door.

“It would be, if I hadn’t locked up and told everyone to go home—not in that order.” She ran her fingers through my hair, grabbing a handful and gently pulling just enough to tilt my head up. “And I’ve been more than patient, waiting for you to finish up all of this boring paperwork.”

“Well, you’ve definitely been patient,” I said, “except for all those times you whined about how I wasn’t paying you any attention.”

“Those don’t count,” she whispered, leaning down to gently press her lips to mine. I felt the warmth of her touch wash over me, filling me from the bottom up as I pulled her even closer.

Chrissy sat herself down on my thigh, her eyes closed as I wrapped her up in my arms, our lips still locked together. She felt so right against me, so perfect that I wasn’t sure if the world even existed beyond her when we touched.

I slid my hands up beneath her blouse, feeling the soft, silken texture of her skin beneath my rough hands. She made a soft sound of approval against my lips, her back arching as I gently caressed the tips of my fingers along her spine.

She looked down into my eyes, and I watched her as she slowly unfastened the buttons down her front, each one falling away until her blouse hung open, revealing the curves of her breasts.

I grinned, running a finger up along her stomach, under her bra, to the valley between her magnificent tits. Everything about her was so soft, and no matter how many times I had my hands on her, I could never not be amazed. I explored the terrain of her body, each finger dipping and gliding over her curves, pushing away the fabric of her blouse and bra until she was bare before me from the waist up, the peaks of her breasts standing at the ready. Just the sight of her was enough to bring me to attention as well, my jeans becoming tighter with each passing second.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered to her, pulling her back against my lips before allowing my mouth to trail down along her neck to more sensitive places, brushing over them with just the slightest touch. Chrissy gave a faint gasp, pressing herself into my touch, her head lolling back as she melted into the sensation.

“Crush,” she whispered, her nails grazing the skin on my arm. She pulled and tugged at my shirt, demanding I remove it. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s topless.”

One by one, our clothes fell away onto the floor. I grabbed Chrissy at the back of her thighs just beneath her bottom and hefted her up onto my desk in one swift movement, drawing a squeal of excitement from her lips as she wrapped her arms around my neck, her thighs spreading wide to admit me.

I kissed her hard, groaning as she locked her legs around my waist. I was hard as chrome, aching to be inside her, but I wanted to see the look on her face when I pushed in.

I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. With each inch I sank into her warm depths, those pretty eyelashes of her fluttered, and the sigh she emitted was one of both pleasure and relief, like my dick was the balm to all her troubles. Her channel clenched tight around me and I met her sigh with one of my own, just a little sorry we wouldn’t have more time together. I wanted more than a quickie.

“I love you,” I whispered, tenderly brushing my lips past her own. Each touch felt like electricity sparking against our skin, running up our spines and coming out as soft exhalations of pleasure.

I began to work my hips, closing my eyes as I cradled her head in my hand and rocked back and forth, slipping in and out of the silken depths of her body. Each motion brought a gasp from her lips, her back arching against me as her hips began to squirm in time with each thrust.

“Crush,” Chrissy whimpered, pressing her face against my neck as her grip around me tightened. Her nails on my back were like heaven and hell all at the same time. “God, you feel so good.”

Lord, so did she. I’d never experienced anything like being inside Chrissy, not with any other woman I’d ever been with in my life. This transcended fucking, entering the realm of the almost spiritual. I was hardly a religious man, but if I had to worship at a temple, I’d sure as hell choose Chrissy’s body.

Already I could feel myself building toward my release, my hips growing tighter with each thrust inside of her, each squirm of her hips drawing me closer and closer to climax.

“Goddamn,” I moaned, looking down into those gorgeous eyes. My breath caught in my chest. I was doing everything I could to hold myself back from letting go just yet. “Chrissy I’m so close.”

“Don’t hold back,” she whimpered, looking into my eyes.

I held onto her hips, pulling her harder against my body with each thrust, pushing myself deeper. She squirmed and bucked against me, biting down hard on her lip to hold back a cry of pleasure.

“Fuck!” she finally screamed, the word an explosion unto itself as I felt a tell-tale rush of warmth flooding up from between my legs, my lips pressing hard against hers. She felt like fire, and at any I thought my lips might blister and burn away as our bodies moved as one.

“Chrissy!” I moaned, the tension in my hips releasing as a burst of my seed gushed out and into her body. I wrapped her in my arms, bucking hard with each pulse of my rigid shaft.

The world went still as I lay there inside of her, her bare breasts caressing my chest with every intake of breath, her hips still squirming, coaxing out even the slightest bit of me from the tip of my cock. She carded her fingers through my hair as she let her free hand rest against the desk. She grinned up at me.

“I hope I never get over the way you make me feel, Crush.”

“Me too,” I whispered, smirking at her as I gently slid myself from within her, watching as she pouted and crossed her arms. “You’re such a brat.”

“You like it,” she shot back as I gently ran my hand along the curve of her hips, admiring every inch of her body as she lay still sprawled across my desk.

“I love you, Chrissy Falcone,” I whispered softly to her as she closed her eyes, that smile still curving those lips. “And I’m never letting anyone hurt you again.”

“I love you too, Jackson ‘Crush’ Monroe,” she said, reaching up to caress my cheek. Her fingertips felt like static, raising the hairs on the back of my neck, sending gooseflesh running up my arms. “So goddamn much.”

With an arc flash of bliss, our lips came together again, and all was right in the world. There was no need to breathe any air but hers. Let her spark burn me out. If that was the price I had to pay for loving a live wire, then it was a good goddamn thing I’d hit the jackpot.