A grin spread across her face. “Was it the blow job of a lifetime?” Her voice was so damn sweet as she asked.

“Fuck yeah. It was so good I might even add some new ink that says ‘I am a lucky son-of-a-bitch. I’ve had the best blow job ever.’” She cracked up, then her laughter was cut short when her phone buzzed.

“That’s probably my son texting me again.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. But apparently it’s impossible to find a decent history quiz app in the entire app store,” she said drily as she stretched back to her purse, grabbed her phone, and slid open a text. “Yup. That’s him. He claims he still can’t find one.”

“He really tells you that?”

She rolled her hazel eyes, and grasped his shirt, tugging for emphasis. “I made him a deal—if he studies history before school starts, I’ll let him try his new strategy for State of Decay. By the way, thank you for sharing that little tip with him. Very analytical,” she said, and he nodded a you’re welcome. “But he claims he can’t find a decent app at all. That a good history app doesn’t exist.”

The corner of his lips quirked up. This was too easy for him. This was a piece of cake. “I know a few. We were pitched on an e-learning company a few weeks ago. We didn’t invest because there’s no huge market upside, but I was pretty damn impressed with the ease of use, and the focus on actual facts rather than earning points in gameplay or something.”

Her eyes widened, and she gripped his shirt even harder. “Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. Let me go back through my notes and send it to you later.”

“You can send it to him directly, if you don’t mind. I’ll text you his number. But copy me, so I know he got it.”

He grinned. Progress. This was a big step forward. “Absolutely.”

She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on his nose. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then once more, in an even quieter voice, “You are my hero.”

That’s all I want to be.

But aloud he said, “I’m glad I can help you.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do for you? Help you find the next Snapchat to fund?” she asked, teasing.

“I’m always on the hunt for the next thing.”

“Or should I just get to work on topping the blow job of a lifetime?” She winked. “Now that you’ve set the bar so high for me.”

“Yes. That. Do that. And you set the bar yourself with this fantastic mouth,” he said, running his fingertip across her lips. “But you know what I also want?” He dipped a hand under her skirt and stroked her damp panties. Ah, nothing he loved more than the evidence of her desire.

She moved gently against his hand. “What do you want?”

“God, I want to fuck you right now,” he growled as he slid a finger inside her underwear, feeling her slick flesh.

She gasped. “Do it.”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to want it.”

“You think I don’t?” she asked, as she rocked into his fingers gliding across her.

“I want you to want it so much it drives you crazy.”

“I’m pretty much insane right now,” she said, her breath coming faster.

It was his cue to slow down. “I know. But I want you to come over tonight already hot and wet. I want you to spend the day thinking about me, and what I’m going to do to you, so when you show up you’ll be a live wire, and I can fucking devour all your sweetness.”

“Oh God,” she said, shuddering as she moved faster into his fingers.

He had to exercise phenomenal control. He could have her coming all over his hand in less than a minute, but that would ruin tonight.

He bent his head to her ear, and whispered, “I want to taste you coming. I want to fuck you so hard. I want to feel you beneath me as you writhe and moan and scream. And I want that in exactly nine hours. See you at seven.”

He smacked her rear, giving her a sharp crack to remember him by all day. He zipped himself up, kissed her good-bye, and showed her the door.

He wasn’t imagining it when she shook her ass at him in a sexy “see you later” as she walked away.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Soon. Please let it happen soon. Let this day end any second. She stared at the clock on her wall, willing it to tick faster.

But the tortoise speed of the second hand was either a cruel joke or a reminder that Colin was right. He was all she thought about as she finished up some paperwork about the status of the center’s programs.

And since he was all she thought about, she was hot, she was bothered, and she was horny.

Great. Just fucking great to be parked at her desk, filling in information about the poetry nights and the hot meal plan, when her skin was sizzling from that morning encounter at his office.

She pushed back from her desk, walked to the ladies’ room, and splashed cold water on her face, then dried it with a scratchy paper towel. Ugh. The damn towel was rough. She made a mental note to look into new paper towel vendors, and as she left the restroom she gave herself a virtual pat on the back for having successfully turned off the latest bout of lust.

Good thing because when she returned to her office, Marcus was rapping on her door.

Tension crashed into her, but she reminded herself of her new approach. Be two people. With Marcus, she was only Center Director Elle. The other side of her ceased to exist.

“Hey there,” she said.

“Do you have a second?”

“I do.” She guided him into her office and shut the door. “Is this about…” she asked, letting her voice trail off in question.

“Yeah. You didn’t tell him, did you?” Marcus asked, terror in his brown eyes. For a brief moment before she answered, she studied his eyes. They were dark brown, like Colin’s. Another secret she had to bear—a small one that was folded into the big one. But still, she now knew they shared a family resemblance. That gnawing in her chest resurfaced, and she tried valiantly to swat it away. She clenched her fists and refocused away from Marcus’s eyes and back to his question.

“Of course I didn’t say anything. I told you I wouldn’t, and I meant it. Now, tell me what I can do for you?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I know you wouldn’t tell him. I’m just…”

“You’re nervous,” she supplied, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He was shaking. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Talk to me.”

“What if they don’t believe me?” he blurted out. “I’ll just be showing up out of the blue and saying ‘Hey, I’m your little brother. I was born in the pokey. We don’t even have the same dad, but isn’t it cool?’” He swung his elbows back and forth in mockery of a too-happy person. “I mean, my mom never told them. My dad never did. I don’t think they have a clue.”

“Show them your birth certificate. You have one, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I have a copy of it,” he said, his gaze drifting to his feet. “Says right there in black and white how I was born behind bars.”

“There’s no shame in where you came from. We all came from different places. My son came from an eighteen-year-old high school graduate and his father is dead from an overdose. I do not let him feel shame about any of that,” she said firmly. Marcus raised his face again. “So don’t let a few words on your birth certificate affect how you see yourself.”

“I just feel like I’m trying to hit them up with proof,” he muttered.

“But you are, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You need to be smart about this and be prepared, because it is hard. Maybe that’s why no one was home the other time you went there. Maybe the universe knew you needed to have all the evidence before you went.”

“I need to do it soon. The detective called about the reopened investigation. He wants to talk to me. I don’t want to talk to him, though.”