“We have an FTA for a court-ordered custody mediation,” Dispatch said. “Can you do a 10-91?”
Marlow screwed his eyes shut and rubbed his thumb over his temple. “Seriously?”
“Records show it was your case originally. Is that a 10-4?”
“Yeah,” Marlow sighed as he opened his eyes. “10-4, Dispatch. Send me the coordinates and details of the pickup. I’ll send my ETA once I’m on the road.”
He flicked the radio off and shifted his attention back to Cade. “I—”
“Duty calls,” Cade said.
Marlow’s crooked smile was rueful, but he didn’t argue. “Keep me updated if these”—he gestured to the photos on the screen—“yield anything useful.”
“I’ll think about it,” Cade said as he uncrossed his arms. “Good luck finding your parolee.”
He waited.
Marlow turned to go, and Cade’s stomach sank with disappointment. That wasn’t what he’d been waiting for.
“You forgot your fish,” he said abruptly. The words hadn’t sounded great in his head—they’d just been the first thing that occurred to him—but they sounded worse out loud. Marlow hesitated mid-step, just for a second, and Cade decided, “fuck it.” Anything that stopped him from running his mouth was a good idea.
He reached out, grabbed Marlow’s arm—the tinted glasses he still hadn’t put back on slipped out of his fingers—and pulled him around into a kiss. It was a dry, awkward buss, mouths smashed uncomfortably together and heads at clumsy angles.
Then Cade ran his hand up Marlow’s arm and curled his fingers around the nape of his neck. Marlow shivered at the contact and stretched up into the kiss. His mouth was sweet, warm, and slightly fishy. Cade grinned against Marlow’s mouth at the brief distraction. It was the weird details that made reality better than imagination.
Well—he remembered exactly how far things had gone in his last sticky late-night fantasy—sometimes.
Marlow grabbed a handful of Cade’s shirt and pushed him back against the desk. The hard ridge of it dug into the backs of his thighs. Heat knotted through Cade’s stomach as he thought of what his daydreams could make of this.
He shifted his weight and pulled Marlow closer, his lean hips slotted between Cade’s spread thighs. The dull weight of arousal tugged at Cade’s cock as he worked his fingers up to tangle in Marlow’s hair.
Then Marlow pulled back from the kiss. He was still close enough that Cade felt the tickle of his breath as he exhaled raggedly. It might have been regretful too, but that stank of Cade’s dead crush, so he squashed it.
“Duty,” Marlow said, the corner of his mouth tucked up in a rueful smile, “and all.”
Cade twisted his fingers tighter around dark curls and pulled Marlow’s head back. For the first time, he noticed the faded bruises stippled along Marlow’s throat, the long line of it taut and vulnerable. He’d known nulls didn’t heal with the moon. Obviously. It just hadn’t occurred to him to look for the marks he’d chewed into Marlow’s skin.
It was even hotter than he’d thought it would be.
And Marlow might need to leave, but he still hadn’t pulled away.
Cade ducked his head and pressed a wet, messy kiss against Marlow’s throat. He felt the quick flutter of a pulse against his mouth, and he had to resist the urge to bite down. The moon had waned; he couldn’t even blame the wolf for the urge to send Marlow out of his office looking well-fucked.
“Far be from me to keep you from doing the job my taxes pay you for,” Cade said. He untangled his fingers and leaned back on the desk, muscles bunched in his shoulders and pulled tight across his chest. The bulge of his cock was on full display under the thin fabric of his trousers. He wasn’t sure if it was an offer or a tease, but Cade knew he looked good. He smirked smugly at Marlow. “You know the way out, Officer.”
Marlow bit his lip and made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he took in the view. He still took a step backward and tugged the neck of his T-shirt straight. It didn’t cover the bruises, now damp and slick from Cade’s mouth.
“Next time,” Marlow said, then rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He gave Cade a questioning look. “I mean, if this means you’re not pissed at me anymore.”
That reminder worked on Cade like a cold shower: not that well, but it reminded him it was a bad idea. He pushed himself up straight and raised his eyebrows at Marlow in his best amused dismissal.
“What makes you think I’m pissed?” he asked.
Marlow grinned, a flash of quick, unexpected humor, and glanced down at Cade’s fly. “Well, you haven’t lost interest,” he said in a mild voice. “But you haven’t gotten in touch either. So…”
“Maybe I wanted you to do the running,” Cade said, “or I lost your number?”
Marlow nodded and tilted the corner of his mouth up in a rueful expression that didn’t quite qualify as a smile. “So, still pissed.”
