Page 7 of Missing Justice
“Boy,” he said, “you sure know how to kill a mood.”
She met his gaze, then let it slide down his body. “You are a tempting man, Matt, but my job is my life. This?” She waggled a finger between them. “This could have serious complications.”
As if he wanted to screw up his own career? Plus, he didn’t like what she was implying about his work ethic. “Complications. Sure. Got it.”
He sat up, put his feet on the floor and snagged his boxers from the lampshade. The lampshade? Whatever.
She cocked her head as he jammed his legs into his shorts. “Oh, so now you’re mad?”
“Mad? No. I’m absorbing the rules you’ve set. Taking it all in.” He pulled on his pants, shrugged into his shirt, walked to her, and kissed her hard with plenty of tongue. “Thanks for clarifying, Special Agent Sinclair. Call me when you need to getfuckedagain.”
Was he being pissy? Damned straight. They’d had a great night and suddenly she was accusing him of…what? Some kind of investigator espionage? Like he’d deliberately try to steal her cases.
Well, fuck that.
“Matt, come on.”
He held up a hand. “It’s all good. You’ve outlined the parameters of what you feel our relationship should be. Got it. Maybe you could have consulted with me first, but hey, why should we have to talk, right? I’ll just come on by, toss you on the bed and bang away. Works for me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her phone rang again. Same ringtone. Matt shook his head. “Get your phone, Taylor. It’s your boss again. If you want a replay, you know where to find me.”
