Page 91 of Grim Tidings

“I don’t—”

“We can go back to the bar,” he offers. He’s still stroking his fingers up and down my neck, a mindless pattern that has goose bumps pebbling against my skin. “I’ll make you more of those fruity drinks you say you hate.”

I shake my head. I don’t want to go back to the bar. I don’t want the fruity drinks. I want to stay here with him. I want him to make me come, I just—

“I don’t know what I like,” I confess with a mumble.

I died in my twenties after spending my adolescence battling illness after illness. Casual sexual encounters weren’t exactly in the cards for me. Then, when I was at the department, it always seemed like an unnecessary complication to workplace dynamics. There was a Cupid once, not long after I first started. And a spirit who worked for the Office of Nightmares, but those were brief, unfulfilling encounters that ended with me—

“Stop thinking,” Gabriel says. His hand drifts lower to the front of the simple blouse I’m wearing. He toys with the top button, before carefully sliding it loose. He does it to the next. And the next until the material parts, revealing the black bralette I have beneath. He inhales a deep breath, then releases it slowly. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

I nod.

“Then let me take care of you.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Gabriel

I lean forward and drop my mouth to hers, working the rest of the tiny buttons free until her shirt is sliding down her arms and her skin is glowing porcelain in the muted light that pours in through the small window.

“If I do something you don’t like, just tell me.”

She nods, hesitant, her knees hugging my hips where she’s perched on my desk. I slip two fingers into the top of her jeans and rub my thumb over the button.

“And if I do something you do like, you can tell me that, too.”

She huffs, her shoulders relaxing, her lips quirking in a small smile. I can’t see much of her, but I can see enough. The rise and fall of her chest and the smooth lines of her body. Her dark eyes, right on me.

I undo the button on her fly, then work the zipper. Her underwear is the same soft black material as her bra, and my knuckles rub against the front of it as I grip the top of her jeans and pull.

“Lift your— Yeah. Just like that. Good.”

She’s suspiciously agreeable. I narrow my eyes, and her head tips to the side.

“What?” she asks.

“I don’t know what to do with you like this.”

At her raised eyebrow, I elaborate.

“When you’re docile.”

She snorts. “I’m sure you can think of something.”

I drop her jeans behind me, and she crosses her legs at the ankle. There are so many things I want to do—so many things I’ve thought about doing, when I shouldn’t have been thinking about them at all.

I crowd closer and inch her legs wider. Her breath hitches when I press my hand to the small of her back and arch her backward across my desk, the ends of her hair tickling at my forearm where I keep us balanced. I bend my head to hers and kiss her slowly, working her mouth open. She’s restless, dragging her half-naked body against me, moving in time with the rhythm of my mouth.

“Gabriel,” she pants, and I drift my mouth lower, my teeth on the strap of her bra. I cup her breast and thumb at her nipple, but the material is flimsy. Frustrating. I can’t feel her the way I want. Impatient, I reach behind her for the clasp, flicking it open with my fingers. The soft material slips off her with a whisper, bare skin in the moonlight.

I lean my forehead against hers and look down. I like the way we look together. My hands, scarred and calloused and covered with ink, curled around the top of her rib cage. My thumbs between her breasts. With every rough exhale, her chest rises and falls, her rosy nipples pebbled tight. I drop down to my knees so I can suck one in my mouth.

Her back bows, and her hands rise to thread through my hair. “Gabriel,” she says again.

My eyes pinch closed. My cock is throbbing beneath the fly of my jeans. We’ve hardly done anything at all and I’m already desperate for her. I’ve been desperate for her. Since I had my first taste, all those weeks ago.

I drop my forehead against her belly and try to collect myself. “What do you want?” I rasp.