Bryant Park’s rink attendant flashes me a look of surprise when I practically hurl the skates at him, but it’s too late to apologize for being a mannerless bastard because I’ve already turned away. “I’m stealing you from work,” I tell Laela, flagging down a cab when I hit the crosswalk and immediately climbing in. “Put a Do Not Disturb sign on your office door. Close the blinds. Whatever the hell you have to do, you’re mine in ten—”

“You’re ridiculously neat as a guest, by the way. I probably should have expected that since you practically scream law and order.”

The words hit me.

Then register.

My cock hardens to steel in my jeans, and I can’t stop myself from putting a palm flat on my thigh. Dig my fingers into the muscle to alleviate the sudden tension boiling to life in my veins. “You sittin’ on my bed, sweetheart?”

Her voice, when she replies, is just as husky as mine: “I’ve just committed at least ten policy violations, and I’m hoping you won’t find the need to report me, Agent Paxton.”

That tone.

That fucking sass.

I curl my shoulders forward and put down the backseat window to let in noise from the city. “Might just have to punish you for overstepping boundaries.”

“Yeah?”

She sounds so damn hopeful that it’s all I can do to swallow a laugh. Flicking my gaze up to the driver, I give him the new address before returning my full attention to the woman on the other end of the line.

Laela Donna.

I’ve made a career out of doing the right thing—until her. When she emailed me, I emailed back. When she came at me with guns blazing, I refused to fold and bend to her will. She’s the daughter of a man whose case I worked. The two of us sit on opposite ends at the table of judgment, our hands outstretched toward the other but never allowed to touch.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell her, my voice pure grit, “and kneel for me at the foot of the bed. Don’t move. Don’t ask questions. Can you do that for me?”

In the silence that follows, there’s only the sound of her ragged breathing. Then, softly, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Chapter Six

Laela

The carpet is soft under my knees.

I keep my hands folded in my lap, my body angled toward the door. I can’t say that I’ve spent any length of time getting this closely acquainted with one of our hotel beds before. Then again, there’s a first time for everything and this thing with Reid . . .

It consumes me.