“Admit you wanted this,” he commands, his tone gruff and low.
His statement alone gets me a little closer to the edge. He takes his hand away, though, and I cave under my lust. “I wanted this,” I breathe.
Miles rewards my compliance with a couple forceful strokes of his hand. It’s all I need. I seize up and grit my teeth as I empty myself onto the sheets of our bed. My hot breath comes out in huffs as waves of sweet pleasure wash over my body. Miles—still in me—makes a few odd noises as I convulse around him.
I collapse onto the bed and exhale, drained. Miles withdraws and rolls over, hitting the mattress on his back.
Without the numbing effect of passion, my body reminds me that I’m still recovering. Sore in more places than one, I lie motionless. Miles curls up next to me.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Happy birthday.”
He laughs into my shoulder. And then he gets quiet. “You’re not… angry with me?”
“No.”
“Would you want to do this again?”
I remain silent as I mull over his question. Finally I say, “Uncuff me.”
It’s dark, except for the blue glow of our digital clock, and Miles struggles to undo the zip-tie cuffs for longer than he should. Once they’re off, I relax and roll over. I should probably shower, but I can’t muster the energy to do so.
“We can do this again,” I state.
“And you want to? I’m not making you do something you’d hate?”
“Of course not.” I grab a pillow and place it under my head. “But I don’t want it to be the standard.” I don’t know if I—or our house—could take it.
“That’s fine. More than fine, really. I like it when you’re the one on top.”
Miles curls up next to me again. I allow the coolness of the night to take away the last of my heat before pulling up the blankets. With my other arm, I hold Miles close. The tranquil serenity is a welcome change of pace.
“What did Shelby want?” Miles asks.
“Fuck ’im,” I reply. “I’m not part of his investigation any longer.”
“What? Why?”
“Shelby’s known all along that the cops are the ones picking up vagabonds and throwing them in jail—only to have some other organization pack them up for sale. And, to make matters worse, the Vice family mob are the guys responsible for the shipping. It’s too much to handle as a little PI firm. Plus, I don’t want to lead the Vice family back here. I want to avoid them at all costs.”
Miles gets up on his elbows. “The cops are throwing low-level criminals to the traffickers for sale?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Roslyn?”
I turn and give Miles a sideways glance. “Who the fuck is Roslyn?”
He chuckles. “The girl that Kimmy asked us to look for. The one who went to jail, remember?”
Oh, yeah. Kimmy’s hooker friend. I had almost forgotten we said we’d speak to her in the jail. But what does it matter now? “It’s no longer my concern.”
Miles kisses my shoulder. “Is that what you really think?”
I give him another odd glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, what’s the harm of going to the jail and asking to speak to her? Maybe we can save her from being packed up like the rest.”
His statement is true, and I let out a long exhale. “The more we dig around this, the more likely we’ll see someone coming to look for me.”
“Is that the only thing you’re worried about?”
“I’m worried about you. There’s no reason for you to get mixed into all this. I’ll go to the jail myself, if need be.”
Miles shakes his head. “No. We should go together.”
“Remember how you kept saying we could get thrown out of our respective careers for getting caught in questionable activities? Take your own damn advice.”
“I said that to dissuade you from acting rash,” Miles states, his tone heated, “not because I didn’t agree with our objective. I think we should help that girl. I think we should continue investigating.”
Miles is a better person than I am. He gives a lot for other people, and maybe I should take his example, but I’m always afraid of the worst. Especially now that I have something I’d hate to lose.
“We’ll go to the jailhouse,” I drawl. “But we aren’t going to any more of Shelby’s drop sites. We’re not going to risk that much.”
“All right. That’s a fair compromise.”
Miles pulls me closer and presses his mouth against mine. Normally it’s a quick thing, but tonight he takes his time, running his tongue against my lip and deeper along my own. He tastes of excitement and salt. It’s a good feeling, and I close my eyes to enjoy it.
When he breaks away, I almost pull him back.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Don’t.”
“It’s not just for the birthday thing. I feel like… you always have my interests at heart, Pierce.”
“I’ve got your back.”
He half laughs as he grazes my jawline with his fingers. “And I yours.”
THE KNOCKING on the front door jars me awake.
I sit up, glance around the room, and stare at the wall for thirty seconds like a useless lump of jelly. Another round of knocking gets me to my feet. What time is it? The digital clock says 10:00 a.m., but it’s a lying sack of shit. There’s no way it’s ten in the goddamn morning.
Miles is sound asleep on the bed, his head covered in a pile of blankets. How can he sleep like that?
Another round of knocking.
I huff and rub at my face, well aware I’m not decent. My wifebeater is crusty with dried bodily fluid, and I remind myself I should shower. Since I don’t have time, I rip it off, toss it to the floor, and then pull on a pair of sweatpants. My body is sore, but I push through the stiffness of my muscles. Groggy and barely functioning, I shamble out to the living room and
