Page 92 of Dancing in the Dark

Choking out an almost silent chuckle, I snatch up my phone and turn it to do not disturb, in case any more unwanted texts want to come through tonight, then slipping the device into my pocket, I drag my ass off the couch and around to face the duo. My happy place. Scooping Mia up and curling her in so she doesn’t flail and startle awake, I search Sera’s wanton stare and grin. “I’m gonna put my baby to bed, which means you have approximately five minutes to do… something.”

Her brows jump high on her forehead. “Something?”

“Mm. You could strip down for me. Tie yourself to my bedpost, if that’s the sort of thing you’re into. I’m a cop, so don’t forget we have cuffs.” I draw my shoulders up in a shrug of nonchalance. “Whatever your heart desires, Seraphina. Surprise me.” I turn on my heels and leave her a little breathless, a little desperate, and though I should send Mia to the toilet before I put her to bed, I don’t dare risk waking her up, so I head straight into her room, switch on her night light, and turn the white noise machine louder than she normally has it.

Just in case.

I peel her blankets back and carefully slide her in, then snatching up a Care Bear—literally any of them—I place it between her arms and drag the blankets up again.

I’ll see her again in about three hours.

I press a gentle kiss to her temple and inhale her to the depths of my lungs, lingering while her sweet perfection heals another small fraction of the wounds she never inflicted.

This is why Cato’s obsessed with her. It’s why Archer was the first man on the planet after me to love her. It’s why Tim smiles when she’s around. Hell, she’s why Sera glows when they’re in the same room.

It’s because Mia is the innocence the rest of us never got to experience in our younger years. She’s the child we never got to be, and now, we’re the adults we wished would’ve kept us safe.

She heals hearts purely by existing.

“Goodnight, Moo.” I press a second kiss to her temple, then I back up and hover by her door.

I told Sera she had five minutes, and I’ve only been gone for one, so I turn and find the kiddie chair I don’t recall ever buying—it’s pink and sparkly and comes with a cushion softer than feathers—and taking out my phone, I lower until my knees damn near touch my ears.

My heart kicks up a notch as Sera’s not-so-stealthy tiptoeing along the hall makes my floor creak, but I say nothing. I don’t even chuckle out loud. I simply open my most recent text.

Opulus Club, Sept 2. Be there at 9pm. I only need you to be seen coming in the door, and for your troubles, I’ll pay you $7500 neat. Don’t stress: sitting inside a club and being seen by the right people is not illegal, Detective. No worries.

A lot of fucking worries. Because intimidation is illegal.

I drop my face into my palm and groan. I crush my eyes shut, and when that doesn’t help, I scratch the back of my neck.

Nope. That didn’t fix it either.

Opening my eyes, I type out a response.

Me:

Yeah, fine. I’ll be there.

Locking the screen and pushing to my feet, I cast one last glance toward Mia to make sure she’s still out, then I increase the volume of her white noise machine by one more increment.

Can’t cause more trauma for my baby.

Slipping into the hall and closing her door with an almost imperceptible snick, I turn on my heels and switch gears. From dad to man. From parent to ‘I just need a taste, or I might die.’ I picture my cuffs fastened around Sera’s delicate wrists and groan. I fantasize about her draped across my bed, naked and wet and so fucking needy, I won’t even pretend to approach our evening with finesse.

I taste her on my tongue already, and because my memories are so detailed, I slip my hand into my sweatpants and know this won’t take long.

I let the shadows and muscle memory guide me, and with my mind on the woman I intend to dedicate two or three hours to, I inch my bedroom door open and stop on the threshold.

“Fuckkkkk.” This is it. I’ve died and gone to heaven. I wrap my hand around my cock and study her on her knees on the floor at the end of my bed. Her hands on her thighs. Her eyes down, but fuck, there isn’t a shadow in the world that could steal her smirk. “You’re shittin’ me, right?” I step into my room and close the door, all so I can know she’s mine. Only mine. “Fuck, Sera…”

“Is this acceptable?” She peeks up at me from beneath sinful lashes, her lips already thick as if she’s spent the last few minutes nervously chewing on them. Music plays from somewhere… some device… her phone, I suppose. “I’m not cuffed to your bed.” She squirms and rubs her thighs together. “But…”

“This works.” I swear, my tongue grows too thick for my throat. My heart, too frantic to sustain life. My hands… what do I normally do with those?

She draws her gaze higher and crooks a devilish finger. “You say you want me, but you’re still all the way over there.” Her lips quirk into the grin of a succubus. “Do you need me to beg you?”

“Fuck no.” I stalk closer and stare down at this… this… this prize I’m not sure I’ve earned. Thank you, Jesus. I comb my fingers into her hair and tilt her head back until our eyes meet. “You want me to tell you what to do? Is that what this is?”