Page 161 of Hellbound

“So eager.”

Her fingers looped through the suede ribbon and loosened the contraption. She lifted it away, and the warm metal stamp slid down to her waistband and tucked tunic, settling against the small of her back.

“I should thank you for this, actually.” With a groan, she pressed both hands against the back of her hips, fingers curling briefly inward, tucking the object lower until it slipped into her trouser leg and fell into her boot.

“Focus, Senka.” His voice was soft but heated.

“Of course, Captain.” She bent and loosened the laces on each boot. “Every minute we spend here, the killer slips further away.”

Her fingers closed around the maker’s mark as she reached inside the back of the left one and retrieved a throwing knife in her right, placing it on the table.

She turned back to face him. Arms crossed, shoulders tilted jauntily. “Satisfied?”

“No.” He closed the distance between them. “Hold your hair up. Both hands.”

In the crook of her elbow, she quickly wedged the metal object atop her middle finger with her ring and index finger holding it still.

“This is doing wonders for our trust-building.” A smile curved her mouth as she thrust both palms forward and slid her hands into her messy tresses, twisting them into a bun atop her head.

Silence.

His hands moved to her wrists, then the tender flesh of her inner arms. Then, the smooth planes of her shoulder blades—deliberate. Igniting trails of fire across her skin through the thin fabric.

She kept her breathing even. Fought to keep her hands still.

“I worked with more efficiency than that,” she bit out.

“You weren’t nearly as thorough.” His breath was warm on her ear.

Her breath hitched as the pads of his fingers ran across every divot of her spine, caressing the small of her back and skimming the waistband of her trousers till they reached her front.

Both hands thumbed over her shoulders, the swell of her breasts. His voice dropped lower. “And I had the decency not to make you undress.”

“You call this decent?”

His hands circled her waist. Pressed firmly over her hips.

Her waistband shifted with the force of it, his fingertips dragging.

He turned her away from him suddenly, jostling the table, the poisoned needles bouncing on the floor.

“You’d prefer to undress?”

“It’d be faster, and you’re already treating me like a criminal.” She huffed a laugh.

“Old habits.” He dipped his skillful fingers into her pockets, all the way down, against the sensitive crease of her inner thigh, slow and thorough.

She subconsciously pressed her hips back and cursed inwardly. “We already know you’ve fantasized about that, so move on.”

He gave an amused hum. “You could barely stand then, too.”

She trembled imperceptibly. He noticed, smoothing his hand over the swell of her ass, and she fisted her hands in her hair as tension snapped through her shoulder, spine taut.

“You were nervous then, too.”

“Hurry up, Captain,” she ground out.

“So eager,” he returned, slipping long, devious fingers against the seam of her pants.