Page 112 of Full Contact

“Yes.”

Chapter sixteen

Mark

Trier walked down the hall ahead of me and switched off the hall light on his way. Peaches stayed in the window bed. When he stopped at the foot of the bed and turned around, I nearly ran into him. He caught me by the waist.

“You’re in a hurry,” he said.

“I’ve been on my feet since seven.”

“Then you should lie down.” He didn’t let go.

Trier had changed into the faded Michigan T-shirt, the one with the collar stretched loose from years of being pulled over his head. He began unbuttoning my shirt.

“What do you want?”

All day I’d been the one asking what people needed. I let myself enjoy being asked.

“You. Starting with your shirt.”

He pulled his T-shirt off and dropped it on the bench. I put my hands flat on his chest, still warm from the couch, and kissed him. His mouth curved against mine, and I knew he had something to say.

“You interrupted the credential story twice,” I said first.

“You can finish it now.”

“Security wanted to see his—“

He kissed the side of my neck, under my jaw, his stubble scraping along it, and started working his way down.

“His ID,” I said.

“Go on.”

“I can’t. You’re interfering with my official account.”

“Are you filing a complaint?”

“With Leah.”

“She’ll side with me,” he said, and went back to my collarbone.

I dropped it.

He pushed my shirt off my shoulders. I slid a hand along his ribs and wiggled my fingers over the little airplane. He jerked sideways, laughing.

“That’s a cheap shot.”

“It’s effective.”

I moved my hand up his spine to the back of his neck and held it there. Trier’s eyes closed for a second.

We finished undressing each other slowly. He nudged me back onto the bed and reached for the nightstand drawer.

The lube and a condom landed on the quilt beside my hip. Trier knelt between my legs with one hand spread on my stomach, his palm rough and heavy.

“Tell me how you want it.”