She makes a slight sound.
“Too hard?” I ask.
“No. It’s—that’s actually really good.” Her head drops forward slightly. “Where’d you learn to do this?”
“YouTube. And desperation. I had a roommate in Portland who was always stressed. Taught myself massage basics to keep him from having a breakdown during finals.”
“That’s very sweet of you.”
“I’m a sweet guy. It’s my defining characteristic.” I work my thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot near her neck. “Well, that and my devastating good looks.”
She laughs. Small laugh, but real. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer ‘charmingly humble.’” I move to her other shoulder. “But seriously, you need to stop trying to solve this case on your own. That’s Marco’s job. Your job is to stay safe and let us handle it.”
“I feel useless.”
“You’re not useless. You’re scared. There’s a difference.” I lean down so I can see her face. “And you’re allowed to be scared.”
“I’m tired of being scared.” Her voice drops. “I’m tired of feeling helpless. I want to do something.”
“You are doing something. You’re surviving. You’re taking care of Tommy. You’re trusting us to keep you safe.” I tilt her head back gently so she’s looking up at me. “That takes courage. More courage than chasing down clues on Facebook at midnight.”
She holds my gaze. Her green eyes are tired but clear. “You always know what to say.”
“It’s a gift. Along with the devastating good looks I mentioned earlier.”
She smiles again. “There’s that humility.”
“I contain multitudes.” I’m still holding her face, thumb brushing along her jawline. “You need to rest, Rachel.”
“I don’t know how to do that anymore.”
“Then let me help.”
I lean down and kiss her. Soft at first. Gentle. Giving her a chance to pull away if she wants.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, she turns in her chair, reaching up to pull me closer. The kiss deepens, and I feel her tension start to melt under my hands.
Her tongue slides against mine, hot and demanding, and the last thread of control I’ve been clinging to snaps.
I haul her out of the chair and set her ass on the edge of the desk—laptop shoved aside. Her legs wrap my hips instantly, thighs clamping tight, and I grind forward, so she feels exactlyhow hard I am. She gasps into my mouth, nails digging into my shoulders.
“Fuck, Rachel—”
Her tank top is gone in one violent tug, fabric bunching under her arms. No bra. Her tits spill free; heavy, perfect, nipples already hard. I palm them roughly, thumbs flicking the peaks, and she arches with a broken moan that shoots straight to my cock.
I drop to my knees between her spread thighs, my shoulders forcing her wider. The desk lamp is still on, golden light painting every slick inch of her. I rip her panties to the side and dive in.
No teasing.
My tongue spears inside her, one long, greedy lick from entrance to clit, lapping up every drop. She’s soaked, dripping down my chin. I suck her clit hard, flicking fast, merciless, while two fingers plunge deep and curl against her front wall. The desk creaks beneath her, lamp wobbling, and she claws at the wood, knuckles white.
I pull back right as her thighs start to shake, blow cool air over her swollen clit. She sobs, hips bucking, trying to chase my mouth.
“Please—”
