“I expected it to be password-protected. What idiot doesn’t lock a drive they’re willing to die for?”
“True,” she agreed, sighing as we got to the steps.
“Foot starting to hurt?”
“I’ve been on it more today than the last few days combined.”
“Let’s get you off it then,” I said, scooping her (and Tuna) up and carrying her down to the street.
It was another uncomfortably quiet cab ride back to my apartment building. By the time we rode the elevator up to my floor, the silence felt suffocating.
Inside, Tuna made a beeline for Liam’s room, likely curling up on his bed to wait for him to get home.
Alara made her way toward my room as I tugged off my tie and tried to talk myself into giving her some peace.
But when there was a stumble, crash, and a curse, I took it as an excuse to move in, finding her stack of books on the floor.
“I tripped again,” she admitted, grabbing the offending pillow and tossing it onto the bed.
I reached for the books as she dropped down off the edge of the bed.
Once the books were back on the nightstand, I pivoted, reaching for her boot and working the Velcro straps free.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice small, as I pulled off the boot.
I glanced up, finding her already watching me with hooded eyes.
“We should probably talk—”
“I don’t want to talk,” she said, reaching for me, pulling me up and over her as she lay flat on the bed.
And, well.
We’d waited this long.
What was another hour?
My lips sealed to hers as my body pressed into her softer one, her arms and legs wrapping around me, holding me to her like I had any plans of moving away.
Here we found the patience neither of us had back at the pawnshop when desire had been too long denied and fiery-hot.
There was desire here too, but it was a slowly lit fuse, a fire that spread slowly, heating more than consuming.
Alara’s hands drifted up and down my back, over my shoulders, as my lips slanted over hers again, turning the kiss deeper.
She pushed my jacket off slowly, exploring me again for a moment before she went for my tie.
Then, hindered by our positions, she threw her weight and rolled me under her. She broke the kiss to sit up as she straddled me, her hazel eyes molten as her hands went to my buttons, working them free one by one.
With each new inch of skin exposed, her fingers drifted, making my muscles tense as the desire went from a comfortable sizzle to a burn.
She spread the material wide and looked over me, the hunger in her gaze ratcheting my own up.
Then she folded forward, her lips meeting my neck before sliding downward. Over my clavicle, my chest, down the center of my stomach.
My breath hitched as her tongue traced my waistband.
Her hands worked my belt loose, then my button and zip. She took her time pulling the material down, then off once I kicked out of my shoes.
