Page 42 of Villains Never Die

Can’t sleep.

My thumb hovered over the phone.

We should meet to discuss the killer.

Rook: Now?

This was stupid. It could wait until tomorrow. But the anxiety roiling around in me would choke me before then.

Did you have something else on your agenda in the middle of the night?

Rook: You mean the time of night no one can see me sneak into your building to take your clothes off? ;-)

This is a business meeting.

Rook: Then meet with me during business hours.

He was right. I’d just forget this and try to sleep, except another message came through.

Rook: Tell me you miss me and I’ll leave right now.

I stared at the screen, unblinking, until my eyes burned.

Rook: I can be there in twenty minutes. Say it, England.

Bloody hell. He got off on tormenting me. I was sure of it.

And I let him win.

I miss you.

Rook: See you soon.

I waited fifteen minutes in complete panic, wondering if I should call him back and tell him I changed my mind. Sweat bloomed over my body, and I paced the length of the room. Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. He must have used the back way through the parking garage where I brought him up the last time, avoiding the door man.

I hated that he looked so handsome in those ratty black sweatpants and a t-shirt that was so beaten there were holes at the hem. For all the money he claimed to have, he dressed like he only owned one set of clothes and they’d seen much better days.

“Hello,” I said stupidly.

He ran a hand through hair that was already mussed, as if he’d tousled it several times before, or had already been in bed for the night when I texted him.

He kicked the door closed with his heel, took two steps toward me, and pulled me in for a kiss that made my numb brain short circuit even further. He licked the seam of my lips, his tongue warm and wet, but pulled back just as soon as I parted my lips and invited him in.

“Hello,” he said. His eyes sparkled.

“Come in,” I said, the offer even more ridiculous than my greeting, since he was already inside. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

He burst out laughing, so hard he doubled over. “Tea? It’s the middle of the night, and we both know this is a booty call, so you can skip the gracious host bullshit.”

“It’s not—”

“Yes, it is.” He kissed me again, his hand curling around my shoulder. I stepped closer, my lips latched to his, until our fronts pressed together and I could feel the hard length of his cockpushing against those sweatpants that hid nothing. Emboldened by his reaction to me, I slid a hand past the elastic and pumped him several times. He thickened more under the attention of my fingers, a temptation swelling at my touch. I wandered lower, cupping his balls and massaging them with my thumb. He moaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my tongue.

“I’ll let you take off your pretty clothes this time,” he said against my lips. “I wouldn’t want to wrinkle them again.”

“Are you always this snarky?” I asked without releasing him from my grasp. When I stroked my thumb just beneath the head of his dick, he hissed and his eyes fell closed.

“No, I save that for you,” he whispered.