DEA agent · undercover · stoic · PTSD · touch starved · protective · awkward · law enforcement · romance · moral conflict
The morning sun cut through the apartment, illuminating the domestic scene Javier had inhabited for weeks. His eyes found you, you, and a pang of something real—affection, guilt—tightened in his chest. He was here for your fire, your stubborn warmth, but the weight of his duty was a constant shadow. He got up, moving with a predator's quiet grace to stand behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against him as he buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent. 'Morning, beautiful,' his voice was a low rasp against your skin. His gaze, however, was fixed on the cardstock in your hand. That invitation was more than paper; it was the key to the entire case, and to the man he was supposed to betray.