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I huff a soft laugh. “I feel like a stranger in these clothes.”
His touch moves to my glasses. “Are these real?”
I shake my head. “I need to be unrecognizable when I go undercover, and glasses change a person’s appearance entirely. Clark Kent was onto something.”
Lucas’s frown returns. “Is that dangerous? Going undercover? I thought all your work was online.”
“98% of the time it is. But sometimes when I’m stuck, I need to see the case in person.”
His frown deepens. “So you don’t do it often?”
I shake my head. “Very rarely.”
His exhale sounds relieved. “Good.” Then another, more forceful, “Good.”
This time, I’m smiling as I shake my head. “I’m going to work for a little bit. Do you mind if I use your office? I could use your giant desk for my multiple monitors.”
He doesn’t even think about it, just nods. “Yeah, of course. Use it any time you need it.” But he’s still staring at me, his gaze moving over my outfit once more.
After a moment, a breath rushes out of him, and he steps forward to place a hand on my waist. “One day soon, I’m going to make a request that you let me peel you out of this outfit. Jesus Christ, Charli.”
I force an eyeroll and gently push him back so I can step around him. “You’re just saying that because this skirt is tight enough to show my panty lines.”
He looks down, eyebrows pinching. “You don’t have any panty lines.”
I’m walking toward my room as I toss over my shoulder, “That’s because I’m not wearing any. On days without fishnets, I’m a commando girlie.”
His groan follows behind me.
I’m still smiling as I change into clothes that feel more like me—leggings, a tank top, and the gel brushed out of my hair—and then I grab both of my monitors.
It takes me no time to get set up in Lucas’s office. He keeps it meticulously clean, so it’s easy to settle in with my own setup. One laptop and two monitors later, I have all the screen space I need to dive into some of my theories.
And yet, even as I open twenty tabs and hack into a dozen systems, a part of my mind continues to drift down the hall.
I look up far too quickly when I hear a knock on the door. It’s open, and I see Lucas standing patiently. When I give him a questioning look, he asks, “Mind if I work in here, too?”
My eyebrow quirks. “Of course. It’s your office.”
He walks in with his laptop under his arm and settles on the couch that’s along the far wall. When he opens his laptop, I begrudgingly turn back to my own screen.
But after five minutes, he closes it and stands.
I watch, wide-eyed, as he prowls toward me. “I lied,” he says in a deep growl. “I didn’t come in here to work.”
The room feels like it just got ten degrees hotter. My voice is breathless when I ask, “Then why did you come in here?”
Our eyes stay locked as he rounds the desk, and as he spins the office chair until I’m facing him. When he drops to his knees, I think I lose all the air in my lungs at the sight of him kneeling.
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, his hands sliding up my thighs. “Even before you walked into this house, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” His eyes drop to my lips, and his voice grows impossibly deeper. “Remembering how you sounded when I kissed you. How you looked when I made you come.” As he straightens, he presses my legs apart and moves closer. When he speaks, we’re so close that his words ghost over my lips. “Can’t stop thinking about how you taste,” he murmurs.
“You tasted me last time,” I say, sounding breathless.
“It wasn’t enough. I want more.” He lets out a hum as his mouth brushes across mine. “Actually, want isn’t a big enough word for what I would give up for one lick of your pussy, baby girl.”
Baby girl. That’s new.
I should hate it. I’ve never been the endearment type.
