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didn’t
care.
    A low growl rumbled from his throat, and he closed
on her with aggression and pent-up lust. The careful seduction he’d exhibited
in the earlier kisses fled, chased out of existence by the supple skin of her
waist, the teasing darts of her tongue, and her nipples against his chest.
Chloe groaned when he seized her tongue and sucked on it hard, grinding his
groin against her abdomen, and palming her breast.
    Everything about it was wrong. Making out with a
suspect in a case who believed she had the ability to become invisible and ran
around the city in full-on flasher gear, bought booze for old ladies along with
other dubious items, and hung out in the subway naked—he’d finally gone over
the edge.
    The pressure of two small hands gripping his ass
incited him further. He wrapped his hand in the back of her tank top and
twisted it, crushing her to his torso. Their teeth banged into each other from
the force of the kiss.
    “Oh my God. I think I need to rethink the
twelve-hour quarantine rule.” She barely got the words out before he hitched
her up and twined her legs around his waist, careful not to dislodge his radio
from his belt. A bell dinged behind them, and she grabbed him by the ears and tugged
until he raised his head from the swell of her breast. “The door is open. We
need to get out of here.”
    He sank his fingers into her ass in response and
bit her right nipple through her shirt before letting her slide down to the
floor. She shivered and he released a puff of breath against her ear and then
licked it in a last bid to change her mind. “You sure you don’t want to go back
to your place?”
    “No.” She made brief eye contact. “I promised
Muriel a pigeon and a cheesecake. She’ll be really pissed if I don’t fill my
end of the bargain.”
    He thunked his forehead on the cheap, faux-wood
paneled wall and closed his eyes. “All right.”
    She kissed his cheek, and he inhaled the scent of
flowers and vanilla, logged and matched them once more with the alluring scent
from the crime scene this morning. These were different than her body wash and
shampoo, smells she’d always carry because they belonged to her alone.
Unchangeable and as entwined with her as her DNA. Chloe smells. He’d be able to
track her anywhere in the world based on them alone. Entwined with her base
scent was the musk of arousal, and he bit back a groan.
    “If that’s what you want.”
    A shudder rippled through her slight frame, and
she closed her eyes and swallowed, shaking her head. “Want has nothing to do
with it, and you know it, Jake. I’m telling you, there is nothing like a
pissed-off drag queen roommate and an unpaid octogenarian voodoo priestess. Or
whatever she is. I once spilled grape juice on one of Daisy Mae’s t-shirts. Not
only did I wake up every morning for a week with a new style of overdone stage
make-up, but I didn’t get Muriel’s rum in time because of a jerk-o—err, a job I
had to do, so I kept finding dead mice in my sneakers.”
    “Make-up washes off.” He sucked her ear lobe into
his mouth and nibbled on it.
    “Yeah. But the pictures on the Internet stay
forever.” The pressure of her hands against his chest forced him to move back
far enough for their stares to lock. “I think we both agree we want to get all
hot and heavy. But gotta take care of responsibilities first.”
    They looked at each other until her attention
shifted over his shoulder. Horror and embarrassment contorted her expression.
    “Oh my God, you little slut! Are you making out in
the elevator?”
    Greiff turned and schooled his expression as
quickly as possible, but he was sure the person in question saw his eyebrows almost
disappear into his hair.
    “I’m so proud! Come here and hug me. How you
managed to attract this delicious lump of beefcake I’ll never know. I mean you
don’t even have on some earrings or something to bring out your eyes.”
    A six-foot-tall woman wearing a short, bobbed