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Well, outside of being a cop, this is definitely not professional police work right here.

This is foreplay, but he’s a real sheriff, and we’ve been playing this cat-and-mouse game for a while.

Slowly, I open my thighs, and Dodger’s gaze shoots straight down, which almost has me closing them.

But his fingers know exactly where to be placed, and he keeps them open so he can see everything.

“When I fuck you,” he mutters, his eyes still dark and hungry, “with your eyes on me…this changes things. I’m not playin’ this game anymore.”

“’Kay…”

His hardened focus flicks up to me like I’ve said something wrong.

Obviously, I did. I mean, who wants to hear “’kay” when he’s trying to be dead serious here?

I wouldn’t.

“That’s it?” he grounds out, narrowing his eyes at me. “That’s all⁠—”

“No,” I quickly recant. “That’s—well, I⁠—”

“Do you want this, Adeline? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

My response is breathy and almost desperate. It’s not even a question for me, and Dodger doesn’t even continue to chide me about my crappy answer because he grips his cock, puts it at my entrance, and slides right back into me.

It’s all he needed, and I’m glad.

I grip his waist with my knees as my new round of moans and mewls fills his room. He’s relentless with his speed and doesn’t take it easy on me, but his arm wrapped around my waist keeps me steady without the use of my hands.

And when he uses the other to tip my chin up, I practically swoon when his kiss is slow and soft.

The exact opposite of his thrusts.

If I weren’t made of bone, I’d turn into a puddle.

If it wasn’t Henry Abbott fucking me, I probably wouldn’t be so mentally and emotionally engaged.

But I think I’m in love with him.

I’ve always been wildly in love with him.

There isn’t a thing I would change about him. The way he acts or how seriously he takes his job. How much or little patience he has for me is part of his charm that keeps me fully absorbed in his orbit. He doesn’t get as mad or exasperated with anyone else but me.

And I revel in that idea, honestly.

I slide my tongue inside his mouth to silently tell him how much I crave this, and he gladly obliges. His pace on my mouth quickens. The fingers at my waist put more pressure against my flesh, and I smile because I know it’s what I’ve always hoped for.

Dodger wanted me.

Pulling at my cuffs, the sudden urge to want to touch him overcomes everything, but I can’t.

So I have to say what I want.

“Take off your shirt.”

Dodger pulls away from me a bit to open his eyes, slows his thrusts, and studies me. I’m not sure if he’s surprised I said that, or anything at all, but I want to see all of him, too.