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kind, to surge through her body. There was no way they could build a dungeon in her basement without someone finding out about it.
    He wasn’t out on the deck long, and when he shut the door, he put his hands on his hips.
    “This is a great place.”
    “Thank you.” She sat back on her knees. There was no time like the present to bring up the concerns she had. “If I may—”
    “You may not.” He walked past her. “Let’s go back to the living room where it’s warm.”
    This time, she had to navigate down the stairs on her hands and knees. They weren’t as steep as the basement steps, but it wasn’t easy. When they were in the living room, she bit back the urge to ask him if he wanted to see the rest of the house.
    He sat down in the middle of the couch. “Fetch a pen and a pad of paper. I would think a writer would have one nearby.”
    Evelyn went to the rolltop desk where she kept her important papers and found what he wanted. She clasped one item in each hand and then had to crawl on her knuckles.
    When she was in front of him, Evelyn offered them to him.
    “Take a memo, Inky.”
    “And what will this memo be about, Sir Logan?”
    “I told you we needed a list for the dungeon. The first thing we need is a new bathroom.”
    “There’s a bathroom down there,” she objected.
    “There’s a toilet and a tub. I want it finished. We’ll start our dungeon building on December first, which gives Sparky’s Plumbing two weeks to finish. Tell them it’s for me. They’ll get on the stick, and they’ll work us in around the people who have busted pipes because of the cold.”
    “Oh no.” Evelyn put the pad down. “I tell them you want to finish the bathroom in my basement, and they’re going to know that”—she was a journalist who couldn’t come up with the right words—“that something’s going on between us.”
    Logan shook his head slowly. She could see that he was disappointed in her. “Everyone’s going to know anyway, Inky. There’s no way around it. It’s best to be open about it.”
    “I don’t like that idea.”
    “Why not?” He leaned back, stretching his arms out on the back of the sofa.
    “Because everyone is going to think we’re in bed together.”
    “And we will be.”
    Evelyn sighed in frustration. “You know what I mean. They’ll think that I kill stories because you ask me to, or hide information that my police lieutenant boyfriend doesn’t want in the paper.”
    He was silent for a few moments before he said, “It’s better than hiding it. Then they’ll really think we’re doing something underhanded.”
    She hated to admit that he was right. “This could get complicated,” she said.
    “Yeah, probably. But it’ll be a hella of lot of fun.” He ran his hand over his crotch. “Speaking of which, get your little ass over here.”
    Now he was talking. Evelyn put down the paper and pad and hurried toward him. She settled herself between his outstretched legs. He cupped his crotch.
    “You want my dick?”
    “Yes, Sir Logan.”
    “Ask for it.”
    She needed to keep control of herself, or she’d end up looking like an idiot. Evelyn took a deep breath.
    “May I have your dick, Sir?”
    He grunted. “That was pathetic. Try again, tell me what you want to do with it and be specific.”
    The man staring at her was one she didn’t recognize. His look was dark, controlling. She loved it.
    “Sir Logan”—she took a deep breath and dared to look him in the eye—“I want to suck you. I want to feel your cock in my mouth, pulsing as I work to pull your seed down my throat. I want to feel your hands in my hair as I lick your balls. I want you to grab it, pull it, and demand that I take as much of you as I can, and then take more until I feel like I can’t breathe. I just…want you.”
    The little bud between her legs pulsed with need.
    “It’s been way too long for you, Inky.”
    “Yes, Sir Logan.” Tears burned the back of her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was