His hands waste no time, returning to her body, one hand sliding up and under her shirt, massaging the skin he finds there, the other hand landing squarely on the flesh of her ass and squeezing. Oh and how he answers, his lips on hers then, mustache tickling her skin, tongue seeking admission. And instinctively, she leans into him, seeking, seeking his lips, his touch, his smell, his skin. Carefully, he takes the blade from her hand and sets it atop the small vanity. Another chuckle and then he steps towards her. Rendered more than a little useless between the adrenaline of a near intruder wearing off and the aftermath of a 14 hour shift, she is unable to answer with anything more than a shrug. “Planning to stab me?” He says then, his voice a low rumble that sends something straight through her belly.
When she manages to tear her eyes away from his arms, she finds he is staring pointedly at her hand, a twisted small on his handsome features. He chuckles suddenly, the sound burning her ears and she swallows thickly.
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