Rook drags me into the shower with him, and I let him, dazed. My skimpy uniform is in tatters anyway, like my mind. He drags my dress down, and I step out of it, and out of my shoes, stepping under the warm spray with him.

Might as well. At this point…

At this point, I have no idea what is going on.

Could it be we’re on the same side, both of us looking into the mysterious Organization that destroyed my family and set the course of my life? What are the odds?

Then again, like he said, the pieces are adding up, fitting together, showing me a picture I’d been blind to: I did find him at every step of my investigation, and although his parents are part of the corruption I’m working to eradicate, his friends have made the headlines with their run-ins with the Organization watchdogs.

He did, after all, manage to hand his parents to justice—although when I heard about that, I thought it was a ploy to throw suspicion off himself. His parents would never have stayed behind bars anyway.

Things don’t work that way in this corrupt city.

Now it makes sense that Rook would be fighting that corruption, and yet I never thought about it. Never saw him that way. He is, after all, nothing like his friends. Storm is such a good boy, and Hawk a charming rebel, while Rook is… dark. A dark horse, a twisted reflection of the other two.

Guess I drew my conclusions too soon. Great job, Mia. As if you haven’t been trained for this sort of thing.

Then again, attraction. It tends to complicate things, muddle judgment. Of course I was suspicious.

Still am.

A guy this rich, this successful, this… sexy. Okay, ignore the last bit, but yeah, why would a guy like him fight the corruption that put him where he is? Why should I believe he’s being honest with me and not just trying to get into my panties?

Although, he already did that. No reason to lie now, is there?

God.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he mutters, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him so that my back is molded to his powerful chest and thighs. He’s semi-hard again. The man is a machine, I swear, and the answering throb deep in my belly doesn’t surprise me anymore. “What’s on your mind?”

“What do you think?”

He nuzzles my neck. “I don’t know. You’re a woman, you’re complicated.”

I huff. “I am complicated?”

“Yeah. See, I’m a guy. You know where my mind’s at now. Can’t hide it.”

I sure feel it, pressing into the small of my back. He’s fully hard now, and I swallow a moan. “We need to talk.”

“You want to talk, baby, go for it, but hurry up.” He rubs his hard-on over my skin, and I shiver at the promise of that hard length entering me again. “Let’s see how long before I get you incoherent.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He reaches around, cups my breasts, teases my nipples, and I gasp at the jolts of pleasure. They shoot straight between my legs, and suddenly the heavy length of his cock behind me is all I can think of.

Dammit. “This game you’re playing with Robert O’Connor, and all the people involved… Stay out of it, Rook.”

“That’s like telling me to stay out of you. Not happening.”

“Then… we have to work together.”

“We are.” He releases one of my breasts to guide his cock between my legs, rubbing it over my clit.

Oh God… “Rook…”

“Yes. I’ll give it to you, kitten, just one sec.”

“Rook, wait.” I can’t think clearly when he’s touching me, when he’s about to sink into me again. It takes all my focus, all my energy to jerk myself away and turn around under the gentle spray of water to face him.

He sighs, long lashes lowering to hide his eyes. He reaches down to stroke himself, and man, this guy’s out to fry my last brain cells. “You need to let go a little, kitten. Let your hair down. Ride my dick. Relax.”

He’s a crazy bastard, but my whole body is straining toward him. And he’s distracting me too well.

“Let’s speak plainly for once, okay?” I say. “The Organization. Led by Ian Cronin. That’s what we’re both trying to bring down.”

A beat of silence.

“Dammit,” Rook mutters. “What if someone is listening in, huh?”

I point up at the shower. “White noise.”

“Fine.” He bites into his lower full lip, still stroking himself slowly, lazily. He gives a dangerous grin. “What now?”

“You walk away from this.”

“Not happening.”

“Why?”

He lets his head roll back, against the wall, eyes half-closing. “It’s personal. Just like it is for you.”

“But your parents are part of the Organization, right? So what happened?”

He looks away. “Not important.”

“Why are you afraid of the dark?”

His gaze snaps back to me, narrowing. “What?”

I stare at him in silence, my heart twisting. No idea why I asked this. Why I thought it might be connected. But his reaction tells me I was right. “The dark. Tell me, Rook.”

He shakes his head, droplets of water flying from his dark hair. “No way. No.”

Something in his gaze draws me in, makes me forget myself. Stepping closer, pressing my body to his, I cup his face. “What happened to you?”

His eyes are so wide, full of something terrible, and I want to touch his long lashes, feel them under my fingertips. I want to kiss him until he forgets whatever it is he’s remembering, whatever it is that scarred him inside.

He dips his head until his forehead is pressed to mine. A gust of air escapes his lips. “Look… The Organization fucked up your grandfather, your family. Only in my case, my parents are the Organization.” He swallows hard, his throat clicking. “What do you think happened?”

An evasion. Only my mind can conjure up all sort of things happening to him. I stroke his jaw, his smooth cheekbones. “They hurt you.”

No reply.

“Fair enough. And you won’t walk away from this?”

“No fucking way. If anything, you should.”

No chance. “Then we work together.”

My words seem to ring in the silence, punctuated by the soft patter of the water. It’s splashing my face, splashing his too. Makes his eyes look wet, as if with tears.

Would I know if it were true? Is he hiding his pain in plain sight?

Why is he breaking my heart without even admitting to anything concrete? How is he doing this—snagging me body and soul like this?

“We work together?” he whispers, and dammit, yeah, there’s a catch in his voice. “Just like that?”

I rise on my tiptoes, kiss his mouth, wet and warm, with a hint of salt. “Either you’re on my side or you’re not. Simple as that.”

A shiver runs through him. He lifts his head, frowning. Then he says, “In my experience, only one sort of person sees the world in black and white like that. You’re a fucking cop?”

Crap.

“FBI. On loan to another division from the Cyber Division.” I mutter. “But yeah. Busted.”

* * *

“Undercover fed, huh?” Rook is sitting on the bed, a small towel wrapped around his slim hips, running a hand through his wet hair. “And a hacker? Damn.”

Yeah. You can say that again. “Not a hacker, really. Just knowledgeable about tech.”

And I guess I’m not so undercover anymore, either. Can’t hide anything from that dark, knowing gaze.

He gives me a long dark look. “You want me to believe the FBI would have sent in an inexperienced girl like you to investigate Ian Cronin?”

I get his disbelief. “I did receive basic training, you know. But yeah, the thing is, the bosses thought finding something here, in Cronin’s nest, is out of the question. I thought it sure is a long shot, but I asked to give it a try.”

“You asked? Why? Because of your grandfather?”

I look away and don’t reply.

The silence stretches.

“Goddammit.” He gets to his feet and stalks to window. His back is tense, and blood trickles from one of the angry welts over his shoulder blades. I should clean that.

“Is that a problem?” I whisper.

“You tell me.” He knocks his fist lightly on the glass, as if considering whether to smash it or not. “All that shit you said about it being personal, was that all fucking lies?”

He’s right to be upset.

And yet, I wasn’t supposed to tell him any of this. I wasn’t supposed to be standing here next to him, period. Christ. I should tell my boss what I have found out. About Rook. He can’t get more involved, can’t be put into more danger. No matter what.

But whatever it is he still hasn’t talked to me about, it changed his life, like it did mine. I can’t take that away from him. And I will probably need his help. He knows people, he has the means… it’s not a good idea.

Then again, what is?

I approach him, arms crossed over my chest, keeping the big, fluffy towel I’m wrapped in in place. I stop beside him, and pretend to be looking out at the city, secretly glancing at his face, then away. He doesn’t look so much angry as sad. “I told you the truth. It’s why I joined the FBI in the first place.”

He presses his forehead to the glass. Slides his gaze to me. “Would you have told me if I hadn’t guessed?”

“No.” I sigh. “And I still want you out of this. You could get hurt. You’re playing with fire.”

He snorts. “And you’re not? You’re not even properly trained as an agent, are you? Spending your days behind a desk, and now you’re here… Dammit, how can I trust you? You’ve lied to me. What else are you hiding?”

“Nothing. This is my first undercover mission. And hopefully the last. A one-time fling.” I shrug. “I’m no good at pretending.”

His gaze softens. He reaches for me, pulls me into his side and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Neither am I. Especially not with you.”

Aw man. What’s happening here? My heart’s full. I want this to be real, I want to get to know the real Rook better.

Get real, Mia.

But pressed to his warm, half-naked body, with his scent all around me, all over my skin, the events of tonight leaving no space in my mind for more—the dark suite, the fear in his eyes, then the heat as he touched me and kissed me and filled me… I need to know more.

“Tell me about tonight.”

“What about tonight?”

“Explain to me about the pain.”

His heart thuds under my hand when I slide it up his solid pec. “Ask away.”

“Is it sexual? Do you get off on it? How does it work?”

His stomach muscles jump when he laughs softly. “Straight to the point, huh?”

I shrug. “I’m undercover here, remember?”

He nods. “How could I forget? So… I need the pain, okay? The lash draws out the sadness, and fear. Draws the dark out of me, you know? Like it’s poison. And then I feel lighter. Saner. And no, it’s not sexual.” He licks his lips, glances down at me with a light smirk on his face. “Not if a guy is doing it to me. But if you did… it’d be different.”

“Yeah?” My pulse spikes.

“Yeah. Try it.”

I lift my head. “What, now?”

“Nothing like some hands-on experience. Isn’t that what they teach you at the FBI Academy?”

I stifle a snicker. Because this isn’t funny.

It’s so hot.

“Show me how you want it,” I whisper, my voice a little hoarse, and he growls, turning and dragging me to the bed.

“Your wish, mistress, is my command.”

* * *

“Like this?” We’re sitting on the bed, facing each other, and he has my hand pressed to his chest, like before, when we were in front of the window. He’s pressing my nails into his pec, over his small brown nipple. “Tell me.”

“This is a start,” he says, and smiles.

Whoa, that smile. So open, so deep it touches his eyes. So real.

“Please,” I whisper. I need to understand. I want to give him what he needs. I want to be the one to touch him that way. Deeper.

I know I should be focusing on my investigation. On my goal.

But right now, all my focus is on him.

“How this works,” he says, “is that we set up a scene. I’d tell you what I need. And you’d agree to stop if I’ve had enough. And then…”

My breath is caught in my chest. “And then?”

“And then we begin.”

“You always set it up in advance like this?”

He starts to say something, stops.

“What?” I press. I dig my nails deeper into the warm skin of his chest, and he hisses.

“Some couples don’t. They trust each other so much, know each other so well, it stops being a scene. It’s a relationship.” He rolls his broad shoulders in a quick, too quick shrug. “I’ve never had that with anyone. Never had anyone…”

He stops and presses his lips flat, and I can’t read his face. Should I read between the lines, read into the “I never had anyone” comment, or ignore it and get on with learning what he likes?

I drop my gaze to my hand, splayed over his pec, at the fading red lines my nails have just left on his pale skin. I place my other hand on his other pec, and decide to go with the flow. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk.

Meanwhile…

“Lie down.” I push, and he quirks a faint smile at me, then folds his arms behind his head and does just that, lying down in front of me, his perfect body in full display, the towel barely covering his crotch. In fact… “You’re hard.”

He arches a brow. “You noticed.”

Impossible not to. That’s an impressive tent in the towel. “I have barely touched you.”

“Anticipation is everything.”

He makes me laugh. Can’t remember a guy who has managed that. “And now?”

“Do your worst,” he says, smirking, but it’s back, the vulnerability in his eyes, and I know he’s letting me in once more, allowing me to see the real him. Allowing himself to drop all pretense and be himself with me.

It’s humbling. And touching.

And sexy.

The towel wrapped around me slips a little as I lean over him, and I secure it better under my arm. His gaze follows the movement, then settles on my chest, pupils dilating.

Oh boy.

“Rook, talk to me. Should I find a flogger? Is that what you need?”

“Bite me,” he whispers, a light flush rising to his cheeks, making his eyes glitter like gems. “Anywhere you want. Just sink your teeth into me, like you did last time. Just… pain, kitten. I bet you know a lot about pain.”

A shiver rushes over my skin. I bend my head and lick his stomach. It contracts into a perfect six-pack as I lick my way up. I find one small, taut nipple and close my teeth over it. I bite down gently, and he arches a little, hands fisting in the covers.

“Harder,” he breathes. “I won’t break. Oh yeah.”

After a moment, I move up and sink my teeth into the meat of his muscular shoulder, and his hands come to hold me, hold my head in place.

When I finally stop and look up, his eyes are glazed. He looks like he’s drunk. His head rolls to the side, and he gives me a sideways glance. The shape of my teeth is red and stark on his shoulder.

“Should’ve drawn blood,” he wheezes, “but damn, it was good. For starters. My turn.”

“… What?”

By the time I realize, I’m flat on my back, my towel undone and open, and he’s reaching for a condom from the bedside table.

“Need you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “Please, Mia.” He frowns. “Assuming that’s your real name?”

“It is. Mia Taylor Jones.”

“At least that much is true.” He pauses, condom in one hand, his cock in the other, both brows arches. “Anything else I should know?”

I shake my head.

One side of his mouth tips up in a smirk, his gaze flicking to my face and back to the condom in his hand. “Good. Also, I’ve decided undercover FBI agents are hot. Got any handcuffs handy?”

“Rook!”

He laughs, and then he’s pushing into me, and I’m falling for him so hard I don’t know how I can ever survive it.