I try to slow my breathing, exquisitely aware of the brush of my lips against his at every tiny movement. It would be so easy to get back to it, to turn my head or dart out the tip of my tongue, to taste him again—

“Thank you for your service,” I manage, the words cool, though they come out on a shaky breath.

He chuckles, nuzzling lazily against my cheek. “Anytime.” He presses a kiss below my ear, and I’m glad the position of his face prevents him from seeing the ecstasy crossing mine. He smiles against me. “This was a much better idea than what I offered.”

I giggle, and he gives me a little squeeze.

“Did it help?” His question dances across my skin.

“A bit.” I smile. “Thanks for not making me feel like a creep for asking.”

He straightens enough that I have to look up at him. One hand cups my face. “Bennet, kissing you isn’t a sacrifice. Touching you . . .” He rubs his thumb along my cheekbone and I close my eyes, almost purring at the contact.

He lets out a low sigh. “I’m just sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

I flutter my eyes open, checking to see if there’s any hint of what I’m gleaning from his comment in his expression. I’m met with the same intensity from earlier. My knees go wobbly again.

“I should let you get back to work,” he says distantly, but makes no effort to extract himself. His thumb follows the line of my cheekbone, his other hand still massaging my thigh, maintaining a circular path that traverses from hip to knee. Less dangerous territory than where we were, but the ache he roused between my legs is relentless.

Slowly, I unravel myself from him, easing my hands from his neck to his chest. I relax my leg enough that it begins to slide from his hand, but he doesn’t let it drop. Instead, he guides me back to standing by gliding his hand along my thigh until his palm casually cups my rear, which is a very neat trick. When he steps back, the cool of the room fills in the space between us. I roll my shoulders at the sudden chill.

He’s still close, watching me with a faint smile. My eyes keep dropping to his mouth, his kiss-bruised lips. I bite my lower lip to keep in a laugh; it’s a really, really good thing I got rid of my lipstick earlier.

Ice weaves through my rib cage. Jane! Oh, God, I just threw myself at the architect of Jane’s misery. “This doesn’t change—”

“I know.” His face goes stony and he takes another step back. He pulls an envelope from his back pocket and holds it out to me. “I hope this helps.”

I press away from the wall to accept the envelope. “You holding someone for ransom?”