Page 38 of The Rut in the Road

“Rayn…” He trailed off, and I almost said something else, but then he kept going. “You can invade my dreams anytime you want now,” he said, finally, and I looked over at him, skeptical. “Really. I know I— Well, it wasn’t that I didn’tlikeit,” he half-mumbled, his cheeks going dark again. “I liked it. It just… made things difficult.”

I was studying him, my head tilted to the side, trying to understand what he was saying—not the literal words, because I knew what all of them meant, but I had the feeling there was something more to it. Something I was missing.

He let out a little laugh. “I—I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you,” he admitted. “And I definitely liked that part of those dreams. I just… The FBI is really strict about fraternization rules.”

“Fraternization?” I repeated.

He nodded. “Dating people you work with, whether on your team or witnesses or consultants.”

“Oh,” I said, already worrying that the fact that we were dating now was going to get him into trouble.

“It’s okay,” he said quickly, probably reading my thoughts on my face. “I talked to my boss after—well, once we started actually dating. So that he’d know that it was a thing.” He twirled his fork in his noodles. “There was some paperwork, but it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I hadn’t meant to make more work for him.

He smiled. “I’m not,” he said. “You’re worth some paperwork.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Raj snorted. “That sounded better in my head,” he said. “You’re worth a lot more than paperwork.”

I offered him a smile. “I still shouldn’t have done it,” I said softly. “Pulled you into my dreams.”

“Maybe not,” he replied, but his tone was mild. “But in hindsight, I’m glad you did.”

“Really?”

He chuckled. “Really. Because once I stopped freaking out about the fact that you’ddoneit, I realized that if you were in control of the dream, that meant you wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss you.”

“I did,” I whispered.

“Do you still?” he asked, pushing his bowl—still partly full—out of the way.

I nodded, suddenly breathless.

He pushed my bowl out of the way, too.

He reached out, one big, warm hand cupping the back of my skull, pulling me toward him until he could claim my lips with his.

Lips turned to tongue and a little bit of teeth, and I let out a small, involuntary noise as he tugged at my lower lip.

I was the one who moved out of my chair, ignoring the sharp pain as my hip bumped the corner of the kitchen table. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer. I straddled his hips, my arms around his neck as he kept kissing me, his hands pulling my shirt out of my slacks so that the hot skin of his palms slid up my bare spine.

I wanted him so badly.

“Rayn,” he breathed, his breath warm against my neck in the split second before his tongue ran down the column of my throat.

I dropped my head back, giving him even more access.

He let out a low, thrumming growl, nuzzling against the side of my neck, hands climbing my bare back. I took my arms from his neck and began to fumble with the buttons of my shirt, and he growled again, pulling his own hands out from behind me, grasping the placket of my shirt, then jerking it sharply.

Buttons clattered against the worn wood floor.

“Raj!” It was only half an objection—to the fact that I’d have to find the buttons and reattach them, because I didn’t have the budget to buy more work shirts.

“I’ll fix it later,” he rumbled, tugging the shirt from my arms even as he went back to nuzzling the skin between my shoulder and neck. Then he nipped at my collarbone, and I gasped.

“Raj,” I whispered.