The kitchen was bathed in the warm, amber glow of the ambient lights, the scent of a simmering dinner still lingering in the air, though it had long been forgotten. Your bag lay abandoned by the front door and your clothes were a discarded trail of fabric leading across the linoleum floor to where you now sat pinned against the cold granite of the countertop.

You were completely naked, your skin warm and sensitive. One of your arms was stretched high above your head, wrist locked tight in a pair of heavy steel handcuffs that David had clicked shut around the handle of the upper cabinets. The metal was cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the searing heat of his body holding you in place.

David, still smelling of the city and the grit of his shift in the Harford County Narcotics Task Force, was positioned between your thighs. He had you folded perfectly, just the way he always liked, with one of your legs hiked high, calf resting heavily over his shoulder, while your other leg was hooked firmly around his waist. The position left you completely open, exposed and vulnerable to him.

As he pushed his cock forward and past your entrance, the sensation was overwhelming. You were incredibly tight, walls gripping him with a desperate intensity because despite the distance and complications between you, you hadn't let another man touch you. You were reserved only for him. 

You both looked down together, breaths hitching in unison as you watched his thick, rigid cock slide slowly, inch by agonizing inch, into your soaking wet pussy.

The sight of the penetration and the way your flesh stretched and molded around his girth, made you gasp. You looked up at him, eyes hooded and heavy with lust and whispered in a sultry, teasing drawl, "Welcome home."

His gaze snapped to yours, blue eyes darkening with hunger. He reached up, fingers brushing your wrist as he tightened the handcuff just a fraction more, securing you firmly to the cabinetry. 

"That's my line," he rasped, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your chest.

He began to move his hips, the motion slow and tentative, as if he were rediscovering every curve of your interior. You kept your eyes locked on the point of contact, mesmerized by the friction and the wet, slapping sound of your bodies meeting. David, however, couldn't look away from you. His eyes drifted down to the wedding ring that dangled from a delicate chain around your neck, resting right between your breasts, metal shimmering under the warm lights. He was still wearing his own ring, a silent testament to a bond that neither of you had truly managed to break.

As he drove deeper, the pleasure spiked, sending a jolt through your spine that made your head thud softly against the top of the cabinets. You closed your eyes, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches as you tried to focus on breathing, though the sensation of him filling you made it nearly impossible.

David’s large hand came up to grip the leg resting on his shoulder at the thigh, his fingers digging into your soft skin. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your ankle and the tenderness of the gesture made a pathetic, needy whine escape your throat.

"Being inside you is my home," he murmured against your skin, voice thick with emotion. "I hope you feel that."

You could only nod, head lolling back against the cabinets as he continued to fuck you, pushing all the way in until there was no space left between you. He didn't rush, he savored the tightness, the way you clung to him and the sheer eroticism of the scene.

The warm light reflected off the glistening moisture where your pussy met his girth, the lubrication making every slow slide feel like silk. You were trapped, folded and dominated, yet the intimacy was suffocatingly sweet. Every time he bottomed out, you felt the weight of him, the raw power of his body and the undeniable truth that no matter where you went, this desperate, sensual collision in a quiet kitchen was the only place you ever wanted to be.

The slow, tentative pace eventually changed, evolving into something more urgent and possessive. David’s free hand left your thigh and slid upward, fingers wrapping firmly around your throat. He didn't squeeze to hurt but the pressure was commanding, tilting your head back and exposing the line of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. It was a hungry, open-mouthed kiss, your tongues tangling in a desperate dance that mirrored the friction between your legs. You moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled and needy but he didn't slow down to enable it.

He fucked you with a renewed intensity, hips driving forward with a rhythmic force that threatened to slide you right off the granite. Your free hand scrambled across the cold countertop, fingers splaying wide as you gripped the edge to anchor yourself against the power of his thrusts. Every time he bottomed out, the impact sent a shudder through your entire frame, body vibrating from the sheer depth of him.

He was driven by a frantic sort of hunger. 

He didn't know when he’d see you again because you were a ghost in his life, a beautiful haunting that appeared and disappeared at will. If he was lucky, you might stay until the morning but the probability was high that you’d be gone before he even woke up. That desperation fueled him, making every slide of his cock into your soaking pussy feel like he was trying to brand you from the inside out.

As he pulled back slightly, his gaze dropped back down to the ring dangling between your breasts. The metal shimmered against your sweaty skin, colliding softly against your chest with every heave of your breath. Your nipples had peaked, hard and sensitive, reacting to the cool air of the kitchen and the heat of his body. Your breathing accelerated into ragged gasps and the whining in your throat grew louder, echoing the wet, slapping sound of your pelvic bones colliding. Slap. Squish. Slap. The lubrication was excessive now, a thick, slippery slick that coated his shaft and leaked onto the countertop.

"I know, baby. I know what you want," he groaned, his voice a gravelly rasp.

The hand that had been on your neck moved, thumb finding your clit with pinpoint accuracy. He began to circle the swollen nub, applying a firm, rhythmic pressure that made your world tilt. You melted instantly, a violent shudder racking your spine as the dual stimulation of his cock filling you and his thumb teasing your peak pushed you toward the edge.

Suddenly, he withdrew. He slid out of you slowly, the vacuum of your tight walls creating a wet, popping sound as he fully exited. You both watched, breathless, as he held himself just an inch away, tapping the head of his thick, glistening cock against your opening and clit. A string of clear, viscous slick stretched between the two of you, a glistening bridge of arousal that snapped as he pushed back in.

He forced you to look at him, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that felt like it could strip you bare all over again. He captured your lips in another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, this time pulling you flush against him, eliminating every millimeter of space.

"Try not to rip out the cabinet door, will you?" he murmured against your lips, a ghost of a smirk playing on his mouth.

You smiled, a smartass retort forming on your tongue but before you could utter a word, he slammed out and back into you. At the same moment, his fingers reached up to pinch and roll one of your hardened nipples. You let out a deep moan that vibrated in your throat, eyes rolling back as the pleasure became an all-consuming wave. This was the only cure for the day you'd had, the raw, unfiltered dominance of the only man who truly knew your body.

"Nobody else in Baltimore to fuck, huh?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low, teasing rumble as he trailed kisses down your jawline.

Above you, the handcuffs rattled violently against the cabinet, the steel clinking as you strained against the restraint, itching to wrap your arms around him and pull him even deeper. Your free hand reached out, clutching at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

"Only one who knows how," you moaned, voice breaking.

The pace accelerated into a blur of heat and friction. The sound of body slapping echoed through the quiet kitchen, a combination of the rhythmic, wet thud of his hips hitting your inner thighs, the squelch of your pussy gripping his cock and the heavy sound of your combined breathing. He was fucking you raw, movements becoming more primal, driving into you with a force that left you breathless and trembling, the wetness between your legs turning into a frothy lather as he continued to claim you.

The friction intensified, the rhythm now changing to frantic. David’s hips became a blur of motion, driving into you with a relentless force that made the kitchen cabinets groan under the strain. You were locked in a feverish kiss, tongues battling for dominance while your breathing began to falter. The air in your lungs seemed to vanish, replaced by a mounting, electric tension that coiled tight in the pit of your stomach, radiating downward toward the point where you were fused together.

As the orgasm began to crest, David shifted his grip. He reached up, palm curling around the wedding ring dangling against your skin and clutching one of your breasts in a firm, bruising hold. He pressed the metal and your flesh hard into his palm, massaging them closer to your heart. He wanted the imprint of that ring, the symbol of what you once were and what he still claimed you to be, to be branded into your skin by the sheer pressure of his desire.

Your lips parted in a silent plea for release that escaped you. Your foreheads met, skin slick with sweat and together you both looked down. You watched the sight of his thick, glistening cock disappearing completely into your soaking wet folds, the skin of your pussy stretched taut and glistening with a lather of arousal.

"Come on, I know you have it...breathe," he commanded, voice low.

The combination of his voice, the visual of his cock burying itself inside you and the agonizingly perfect friction triggered the collapse. You gasped for air, a sharp, jagged intake of breath that broke into a series of high, needy moans. Your body suddenly shuddered with it, your internal walls clamping down on him in a series of rhythmic, involuntary spasms. Your pussy twitched and pulsed around his cock, gripping him with a desperate tightness that nearly brought him to his knees.

He forcefully kept his hips moving, driving through the waves of your climax, refusing to let you simply drift away. Every time he withdrew almost entirely, the vacuum of your orgasm triggered a release and you began to squirt, jets of clear, hot fluid spraying across his pelvis and the floor with a wet, splashing sound. Squelch. Splash. Slap. The sound of the lubrication and the squirting became a symphony of filth, the air smelling of sex and salt.

"I'll never get tired of seeing you cum," he groaned, voice thick with a primal hunger. “Fucking love to see it.”

The sight of you unraveling, body shaking and leaking all over him, pushed him over the edge. 

His cock gave a sudden throb deep inside your walls and with a deep-chested groan, he finally broke. He slammed himself into you one last time, pinning you against the cabinets as he began to cum.

You felt the hot, thick pulses of his seed erupting from him, filling you up in heavy, rhythmic bursts. The sensation was that of a flood of warmth that seemed to reach your very core. David’s entire body shivered, his muscles locking up as he poured himself into you, his breath coming in ragged, desperate hitches. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cabinet beside your head, chest heaving against your breasts once he finally released his grip.

You stayed there for a long moment, suspended in the afterglow, the only sound the heavy, synchronized thumping of your hearts and the dripping of fluids onto the floor. Your hiked-up leg remained there, though it now trembled from the intensity of the release. Your hand moved from his shoulder, sliding up to the nape of his neck, nails running through his hair as you felt the last of his cum fill you to the brim.

As the silence of the kitchen returned, you felt the cold steel of the handcuffs biting into your wrists. You knew there would be angry marks to hide the following morning, bruises that would serve as a map of this encounter but as you felt the heavy, warm weight of him still inside you, you didn't care. 

You hoped he stayed branded inside you, a secret, liquid mark of his possession that you would carry with you wherever you disappeared to next.

David couldn’t stop thinking about it almost a month later, which pissed him off more than he cared to admit, because he was sitting in the middle of an active investigation surrounded by cops who expected him to be paying attention, expected him to be chasing leads and to be doing literally anything besides staring through the glow of his computer screen while his chair rocked lazily from side to side beneath him.

The task force had spent days chasing a surname that seemed to exist everywhere and nowhere at the same time, buried beneath dead ends, sealed records, reluctant witnesses and databases that returned absolutely nothing useful and every road they took somehow circled back to the same frustrating conclusion: somebody was protecting somebody else and nobody wanted to talk or cooperate. 

They were stuck and all he could clearly think about was…sex.

“Any luck?” Gordon’s voice cut through the room as he abandoned his desk and walked toward the printer.

David blinked and sat forward, forcing himself back into the present. “No.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and shook his head. “I’m thinking we should make some calls.”

Across the room Gordon slapped the side of the printer after it refused to cooperate for the third time. A second later the machine groaned to life. “Calls to who?”

David’s gaze drifted away from the desk phone and landed on his personal cellphone instead. 

He shrugged. “We’re wasting time trying to guess.” His thumb moved the mouse through photographs, names, reports and connections on his screen, trying to find something they’d missed while staring at the same evidence for days. “There might be someone I could ask.”

Gordon grabbed the fresh page from the printer and started scanning it. “Your buddy in intelligence?” He watched as David shook his head. “Wouldn’t it go against protocol?”

David laughed without humor. “Fuck protocol. We’re stuck.” He leaned back again. “We want the same thing…It’d be a favor I won’t have to pay back.”

Gordon considered that for a moment, eyes moving across the growing list of dealers, suppliers, runners and associates cluttering the page in his hand.

Finally he sighed. “Make the call.”

David nodded and reached for his phone but the movement stopped halfway once Scott walked into the office looking like he’d just swallowed something unpleasant.

His shoulders hung lower than usual, while his expression was that of annoyance and resignation. “The feds are here.”

The room around them went quiet as he pointed toward the conference room before turning around again, already moving towards it because nobody asked questions or needed to.

David exchanged a look with Gordon before pushing himself off his chair and following the rest of the task force down the hallway.

The conference room was already full by the time they arrived. Half the unit was sitting around the tables or against them while the other half leaned against walls staring forward as several people in suits stood at the front beside the whiteboard that had become a graveyard of photographs, names, timelines and theories.

David walked in last, feet faltering once his eyes locked onto yours and for a second, the entire room disappeared.

You stood at the front beside other federal agents and Andrea Smith herself, head of the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force, posture straight, expression unreadable and hands folded neatly in front of you like you belonged there.

Like you owned the room…and this wasn’t the first time you’d been standing across from him while holding all the cards.

His jaw tightened which you noticed, because nobody in that room knew him the way you did. They didn’t know how quickly irritation settled into the corners of his mouth or the difference between David being angry and David trying very hard not to be.

This wasn’t anger yet but it definitely was disappointment that came from realizing somebody had been sitting on information they probably should’ve shared a long time ago.

Andrea cleared her throat once everyone settled.

“It seems our investigation has crossed jurisdictional lines. I’ll be giving the FBI the lead and I expect everyone here to cooperate so we can continue moving this case forward together.”

Murmurs spread through the room but Andrea ignored them and stepped aside as you stepped forward. For the briefest second your eyes met David’s again before your attention moved to the rest of the room.

“I want to reassure everyone that we’re not here to take over your case or claim credit for work you’ve already done. We’ve simply been assigned to prevent this investigation from moving into areas that exceed your jurisdiction.”

“And those are?” Scott asked from somewhere behind David.

You didn’t hesitate. “Confidential.” Several groans answered that but you continued. “We’re operating as a joint federal task force.”

You motioned toward the agents beside you. “Organized crime and drug enforcement, financial crimes and safe streets.” Your gaze swept across the room already preparing for the reactions. “I’m Special Agent in Charge…McDougall.”

The room went silent. David’s expression didn’t change but Gordon turned so fast his chair nearly tipped over while a few other heads moved between the two of you, the same sudden realization spreading through the room.

You continued. “I’m assigned to the Public Corruption Unit and you’ll be answering to me.”

Eyes continued to drift toward David with varying degrees of subtlety but when half a room of cops tried to be discreet at exactly the same time it stopped being subtle altogether, becoming its own loud, awkward thing that settled over the room. The shift in attention was immediate and impossible to miss. Men who had spent years reading witnesses, suspects, informants and each other were suddenly pretending they weren’t looking directly at him.

David felt every second of it. Still, his eyes never left you.

You let the silence sit for a moment, long enough to make everyone uncomfortable without letting it turn into a spectacle.

“I know this isn’t ideal,” you said, your voice level and controlled, your attention moving around the room now instead of lingering on him. “Nobody likes finding out their case has a ceiling they didn’t know was there. That’s not a reflection of your work, it’s a reflection of how far this thing goes.”

Your hands remained clasped together in front of you. “What you’ve built here matters. The names, the patterns, the connections and the dead ends–” You paused. “Especially the dead ends…We need all of it.”

You reached back and tapped the whiteboard behind you.

“From this point forward your chain of command remains intact for everything that stays inside your jurisdiction. The moment something crosses into ours, it comes through me first. Not around me, not after the fact…but first.” Your eyes swept across the room again. “I’m not asking anyone here to trust us…I’m asking you to work with us while you decide whether you do.”

You took a step back which was the universal signal that the speech was over. “Any questions?”

David nearly rolled his eyes before the sentence had fully left your mouth because he knew what was coming. In his peripheral vision Scott’s hand was already halfway in the air.

You pointed at him. “Go ahead.”

Scott sat forward slightly. “Any relation to…” His finger pointed toward David and the room somehow became even quieter.

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate.

If cooperation was going to happen, you knew some things were better handled immediately rather than letting rumors do the work for you. You’d made peace with that possibility years ago when you decided not to change your name.

“He’s my ex-husband.”

A slow ripple of realization moved through the room. Several heads turned as pairs of eyes dropped to David’s left hand and to the wedding band he still wore, then to yours which was bare.

The silence thickened again so you cut through it before it could settle. You tilted your head. “Do you also want to know my blood type?”

Scott blinked with a scoff. “What the hell would I want–”

“You came up with one stupid question.” You shrugged. “I was checking to see if you had another.”

A few snorts escaped around the room. Scott looked offended while Gordon looked like he was trying not to laugh and failing miserably at it.

You didn’t give anyone the opportunity to continue. “We’ll be set up in that room over there.” You pointed toward an office near the back. “So you can keep using this space freely.”

Then you turned toward your own team. “Try not to step all over these gentlemen’s work…Get to it.”

The room finally started moving again, chairs scraped, papers shuffled and people stood while conversations started in low voices and the spell broke. At least for everyone except David, because while everyone else was thinking about jurisdiction disputes, federal oversight and whatever fresh headache had just landed on their desks, he was thinking about you.

Specifically how the hell he’d let this happen without seeing it coming.

His gaze found yours again and for a second it looked like you might actually walk up to him and speak but then a ringtone sliced through the noise.

You grabbed your phone and answered quickly. “Mcdougall.” A second later your posture straightened. “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned away and headed for the hallway, the conversation already pulling your attention elsewhere.

David watched you disappear through the doorway before finally pushing himself upright.

“You in bed with the feds?” Scott’s voice stopped him halfway across the room.

David turned slowly and could see that the look on his face wasn’t accusatory so much as deeply curious which somehow made it worse. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

The response came automatically, so sharp that it made several nearby heads turn.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Ex-wife by the looks of it…I’m wondering how your current wife feels about that statement.”

“What?” For the first time all afternoon David genuinely looked confused.

Gordon finally walked over and without a word, pointed toward David's wedding band. His jaw tightened as he followed their gazes before looking between them again, but mostly at Scott. 

“You do ask stupid questions.” David shook his head and walked away before either of them could continue.

A few minutes later you stepped back into the room, phone still in your hand after ending the call. The conversation around you continued uninterrupted as most people had already returned to work, except for your ex-husband who was already moving towards you.

“Talk for a second.”

There wasn’t even the slightest attempt to make it sound like a question. He didn’t stop or wait to check whether you’d agree. He simply kept walking and the assumption that you’d follow him was still firmly intact after all these years.

To your mild annoyance, you did.

He reached an empty interrogation room near the end of the hallway and held the door open for you. The second you stepped inside, he followed and shut it behind you both, letting the click of the latch echo in the small room.

You opened your mouth immediately, clearly prepared to smooth things over before the conversation could become an argument but David beat you to it.

“Is this what that night was?” He asked, the implied accusation as clear as nothing else could’ve been. ”Merely getting info out of me?...That was a low blow.”

The claim landed harder than either of you expected, because David was angry enough to reach for whatever explanation hurt the most and you could see him doing it in real time, trying to force pieces together into a version of events that made sense to him, one where he hadn’t been blindsided in front of his own task force, one where he hadn’t spent the last month remembering you in ways that made him feel like a complete idiot.

You stared at him for a second before a humorless laugh escaped you, the sheer absurdity of it catching you off guard. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t get shit out of you because we were too fucking busy having sex.”

His jaw flexed. “No,” he shook his head. “I’m sure you made it fit somehow in there.”

Your eyebrows shot upward. “Yeah, definitely. I think it was somewhere between the third and the fourth round…Was it before or after we fucked in the hallway on the way to the shower?” You asked sarcastically.

He threw his arms to the side. “Sure. I don’t fucking know…you always were a great multitasker.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fuck you.”

His laugh came out sharp and immediate.

“You did and that’s my fucking problem. You did a month ago and now you’re fucking me again, except this time I’m clothed and at work which makes it way less fun, by the way.” he shook his head, running a hand over his head in frustration. “I should’ve known.”

There was the real problem and it surprisingly wasn't the FBI and the jurisdiction nightmare sitting outside that door. It was you and the fact that you’d shown up after all that time and he’d simply opened the door without a second thought.

“Known what?”

His eyes locked onto yours.

“You hate Baltimore! You always have, even when we were married. You couldn’t wait to get back to Quantico,” He motioned towards you. “That night you showed up at the house and I just…I let you in. I didn’t question why you were there, and I should’ve. I’m a detective, for crying out loud…It’s my fucking job.”

The statement almost made you laugh because it was true, absurdly so. “You didn’t ‘let me in’ David, you just never asked for the keys back, which means it’s still my house.”

In all the years since the divorce, through every argument, every period of silence and every failed attempt at pretending you were finished with each other, it had never once occurred to him to ask for those keys back.

“Then why did you ring the doorbell?” He asked, frustration slipping through the cracks.

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. What if you had company?  Excuse me for being considerate.” A dry laugh escaped you. “I’m so sorry, that’s always been my greatest flaw.”

The answer visibly offended him. His face twisted, like you’d said something genuinely unreasonable.

“I’m not seeing anyone, much less bringing them into our home,” he pointed.

The words hung between you heavily and neither of you dared correct his words, you simply nodded as something in you gave way and the fight bled out at once, your voice softening before you even fully realized it had.

“I was wrong for that, okay? It’s your space…and we agreed to keep it that way. I should’ve just gotten a hotel room–”

The second the apology appeared, David’s expression changed enough for you to recognize the discomfort immediately. He hated apologies from you, always had, especially when he didn’t deserve one. He let out a slow breath as he shook his head and stepped closer. 

You continued. “I was here for work but I swear it wasn’t about your case. I didn’t even know it was yours when I agreed to it and when I found out, I–”

His hand came up, settling against your neck and jaw with a familiarity that neither of you thought twice about. His thumb rested near your cheek as his expression softened.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’m sorry–” he said, bringing your face to his in a deep searing kiss.

The apology barely registered past the contact of his mouth on yours, the words dissolving into the space between breath and impact and whatever resistance you still had left in you didn’t even pretend to last because your hand was already catching the front of his shirt, pulling him back in like instinct had taken over where restraint should’ve been.

The apology actually surprised you more than the kiss did. It always did with him, that sudden shift from bite to something almost careful and honest, as if he didn’t know how to stay angry at you for longer than it took to get close enough to forget why he started it.

“You’re an asshole,” you said in between kisses as his lips curled into a smile.

That smile made it slower and linger instead of resolve, muscle memory was doing half the work for him while the rest of him kept dragging the moment out, refusing to let it end cleanly.

“I know…I know, baby,” he mumbled as he went in for more, tilting your head up for better access. “But you could’ve called.”

His mouth pressed back onto yours soon after, he was trying to make a point without words.

You exhaled into it without meaning to, the sound swallowed between you as he moved closer, crowding the space without actually moving you anywhere else, just pinning the moment in place with nothing but presence and the familiar arrogance of someone who knew exactly what he was doing to you and didn’t care.

Years of habit were overriding every sensible thought either of you should have been having and for a few reckless seconds it became dangerously easy to forget where you were, that there were federal agents, detectives and task force members less than fifty feet away.

Only then did reality return and you pushed firmly against his chest to create distance as you stepped back and he didn’t try to stop you, just watched while you couldn’t help but lick your lips subtly.

“I fucking hate you.” It came out entirely without conviction.

His grin widened as he moved to sit on the edge of the desk nearby and crossed his arms. “You hate that you don’t.” He paused. “And I don’t like how easily ‘ex-husband’ slipped out…so watch your mouth while we’re at it.” he cautioned playfully.

Your brows lifted while a reluctant smile threatened to appear. “Excuse me? Are we not divorced? I mean, we’re not great at it but–”

“I didn’t say that.“ he shrugged. “I said I don’t like how it sounded.”

You laughed under your breath. “Well, too bad. I remember you in court when it happened…and I didn’t put a gun to your head to sign those papers.” You shrugged.

The smile disappeared from his face. “No, I know.” His voice was quieter now, not revealing even a fraction of what crossed his mind every time he remembered that courthouse, every signature, document and opportunity he could have stopped it but didn’t. “...Would’ve told you to make sure you didn’t miss.”

The honesty of it caught you off guard. You looked away first. “I have to go.”

His eyes tracked your movement as you stepped toward the door. “Hate to see it.”

Your hand almost reached the doorknob before you stopped, turning back as professionalism slid back into place. “And just in case you were too busy thinking about sex out there while I was talking, I’m your boss now…a helpful indicator being that we’re both dressed and vertical,” you pointed out, making sure your bedroom tendencies and dynamics didn’t bleed into your jobs.

David nodded once. “Yes ma’am.”

You narrowed your eyes as he looked entirely too pleased with himself and your hand finally settled on the doorknob.

“I love you” he waited, seeing as you still weren’t moving. “Say it back.”

“I’m on the clock and your superior...I’ll say it at lunch.” You pulled the door open, the hallway noise immediately spilled back into the room.

“As long as I get to slide home tonight.” He said under his breath as he got up and followed.

You shook your head as you stepped through the doorway, fighting a smile that absolutely did not belong on the face of a Special Agent in Charge.

David let the door close behind him and knew two things with complete certainty. The first was that working under his ex-wife was going to be a disaster and the second was that by the end of this assignment, he’d be getting down on one knee again…whether it was to sate his primal hunger, sucking the honey right from the source or to propose again, he didn’t know.