Page 39 of Built for Mercy

And fuck, those tattoos. I wanted to ask him last night about the one sprawling down one arm. A dark circle on the center of his bicep, barbed and veiny lines spreading from it like shattered glass. Cyber sigilism at its finest, and it only accentuated his muscles.

“Wish you woke me up. I would’ve loved to shower with you.”

How was I supposed to tell him that I was panicking? Easy answer: ignore it. I wrapped myself in a towel and opened my makeup bag. “I was trying to be efficient with my time.”

“Back to being a straight-edge cop, then?” He sidled up behind me, arms snaking around my waist while he kissed my neck.Oh God.I leaned into his touch, unable to refuse, my focus already out the door.

“Not… straight-edge,” I murmured, rolling my hips toward the hand that slid through the opening in the towel. “Mav… I need to get ready.” Needy and breathless. That’s what I sounded like.

Maverick bit my pulse point, and my whole body convulsed. My head fell back on his shoulder when his thumb expertly worked my clit while two other fingers slid in and out of my wetpussy. I was a whimpering mess as I rode his hand to orgasm. Even with the release, I wanted him again.

The thought sobered me. I turned in his arms. “You, sir, are sex on legs, and you’re going to make me late to work.”

He licked his fingers—fuck, why is that so hot?—then leaned his hands on the counter behind me so I was trapped. “So, let’s play hooky.” His dangerously tempting grin made my heart stutter.

My eyebrows shot up. “Hooky? What is this, high school?”

“I’m serious. When was the last time you called out of work for something fun?”

Never.

I answered him with silence.

“Exactly. We can spend the day in bed.”

My stomach fluttered. “Mav—”

“Or we can go out and do something. You know, since you’re already here in the city.”

I laughed. “What if I wanted you to do something in Newark with me?”

He blinked, some of his playfulness ebbing. “Are you trying to lure me over there so you can arrest me for my crimes?”

I kissed his cheek. “You’re cute. No, I was making a joke because you said we’d do something in your city.” I turned back to do my makeup, quickly swiping on some bronzer, blush, and mascara, before styling my brows. Then I had to tame my wild waves, all while Maverick kissed my neck, leaving more hickeys despite me scolding him for it.

“Seriously,” he groaned. “You won’t ditch work for the day?”

Sighing, I said, “I have a homicide to get to. Otherwise, I would consider it.”Lies.I was making excuses, because the girly giddiness gathering my stomach was telling my brain to GTFO before I got too involved, and consequently, hurt.

I broke free from his hold to pull on my black jeans and black silk top. All while he watched me.

“Fine. When will I get to see you again?”

My heart accelerated.He wants to see me again.But then I reminded myself that it would be temporary, and he was the last person I should pursue. Our lives were too different.

I needed to get out—get away from his heated glare and intoxicating scent and outside of his gravitational pull. He was sucking me in too far, too fast. I needed to breathe.

“I don’t know,” I said as I pulled my boots on, then brushed my teeth, grabbed my toiletries, zipped my bag, and slung my things over my shoulder.

Maverick, always so observant, took my face in his hands. “Stop overthinking this.”

A shuddering breath fell from my lips. “I’m not,” I fibbed.

“Yes, you are. We’re just seeing where this goes, okay? You don’t have to call out of work, that’s fine. Just call me. Or text me. I’ll follow your lead on this.”

I should've been relieved that he was so willing to go with the flow. He wasn’t forcing me into anything. And yet, even by doing that, it meant he cared enough about me to want to try. I wanted him to try.I wanted to try.

Fuck.Fuck fuck fuck.