Page 79 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

Sam looks up from where he’s sat at his desk and grins. “Just like me, then.”

“There’s nothing cliché about you. You’re a constant source of surprise.”

“I am?”

“Yes. For example, imagine my surprise when I heard you’d gifted Grumps and Riley a whole box of tennis balls, a bag of marshmallows, an inflatable chair, a bottle of Hendricks Gin, and a packet of spaghetti.”

He blinks. “They asked. They said it was for scientific purposes, something to do with testing Riley’s telekinetic abilities.”

I sigh loudly and roll my eyes. “Stop encouraging them.”

“And actually, I think the spaghetti was because they were cooking a bolognese.”

I can’t help the snort that escapes. “I’m almost afraid to ask about the rest.”

“Then don’t. They’re having fun, and Riley hasn’t had much of that lately.”

“I suppose.”

His gaze drops to the Muppets lunch box in my hand. “You bring me lunch, Prickles?”

“Not unless you like cursed rabbit’s foot as an entrée.”

“Another one?” He frowns.

I close the door behind me and set the box on top of the nearest filing cabinet. “Yes, this time in Soho. I thought I’d stop by on my way home from collecting it.”

“Stop by? From Soho, on your way to Islington? You thought you’d travel miles out of your way to come and see me?” His eyes sparkle in amusement as I cross the room, and he scoots his chair back, making room for me to edge in front of him.

“Well”—I sit on his desk and pull his tie so that he has to stand and settle between my thighs—“as you’re going to be over at Danny and Tristan’s later, and I have to go over to check on the chaos twins before their paranormal experimentation gets out of hand, I probably won’t get to see you until tomorrow.”

“Aww, you going to miss me, Prickles?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, although a smile is tugging at my mouth. “The barest amount.” I raise my hand showing the tiniest fraction of an inch between my thumb and index finger. “Hardly at all.”

“And why don’t I believe you?” he rumbles against my lips.

“That sounds like a you problem.”

“Prickles?” he whispers.

“Yes?” I reply breathlessly.

“You’re sitting on my case files.”

I snort loudly and close the distance, pressing my mouth to his and wrapping my arms and legs around him. He leans further into me and slides his tongue into my mouth.

He pushes my jacket off my shoulders and drops it to the desk, then pulls my sweater up. We break our kiss just long enough for him to toss it onto the desktop, where it can join the jacket.

God, I love the taste of him and the feel of his stubble against my jaw as he devours me. My fingers fumble with his tie, undoing it and sliding it out from underneath his collar. He leans closer in, grinding against me as he unbuttons my shirt.

I make quick work of his belt and trousers, pushing them and his boxers over his hips. He moans loudly into my mouth when he feels my fingers wrap around his cock and grip him firmly.

He’s so hard.

I pull back, panting against his mouth. “Please tell me you have supplies because I’m desperate to have you back inside me.”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives me one last filthy kiss and steps back, fumbling in his jacket, which is hanging over the back of his chair. While he retrieves a lube packet and a condom, I slide off the table and undo my belt.