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claws. “What if they try to retaliate?”
    “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Your brother can take care of himself. And really, if there’s any industry that should be safe and straightforward, it’s janitorial services.”
    “Right,” I said, the word ringing hollow.
    “Really.” His voice lowered. “I don’t want to talk about your brother anymore tonight.”
    The deep promise in his voice distracted me. “What do you want to talk about?”
    “Are you still wearing your dance clothes?”
    “No, I showered after you left. I’m wearing a tank top.”
    “Like the one I saw through the window?”
    “Yes.”
    “Take it off.”
    I smiled at the arrogantly spoken command, sliding deeper under the covers. Sliding deeper into that drunk-on-lust headspace that he inspired whenever he was near me. Or whenever he was miles away, connected to me only by unseen airwaves. “That doesn’t sound like a strong argument, counselor.”
    “The lawyer bit is the game. This one’s me.”
    “Demanding?”
    “Usually,” he answered evenly.
    “Sex-obsessed?”
    “Around you, yes.”
    “Abrasive?”
    “Never. That’s what the lube is for.”
    A surprised laugh burst from me. I liked this side of him, playful. He was so serious at work, and that was the only time I saw him. I wanted more teasing, more sex banter. More fun in the middle of the night, preferably with us in the same bed. “I don’t know if I’m up for all that…you know, kinky stuff.”
    “I’m not kinky. I just like to try new things out.”
    “Which is different because?”
    “Because I don’t need to do any of it. That’s just for fun. All I need to get off is to think about you. Taking your top off.”
    “Ah, so we come back to my clothes.”
    “You said you wanted persuasion. Is it working?”
    I sat up slightly to pull my top off, then burrowed back under the covers with the phone to my ear. The covers felt impossibly rough against my sensitive skin, like sandpaper against velvet. It was an acute sort of pleasure, imagining it was touch, wishing it were the wet heat of his mouth against my puckered nipples instead of cold, dry fabric. “What about you? Take yours off too.”
    There was a rustling sound, and then his breath exhaling over the phone. “I’m here. Look down at your breasts. Tell me what you see.”
    I lifted the covers enough to let dim light spread across my breasts. They looked just like they always did, and I barely knew how to describe them, much less in a way that was sexy. I bit my lip. Be brave. “I must be breathing faster than I realized, because they’re…they’re moving up and down as I’m watching them.”
    A strangled sound came over the line. “What color are they, your nipples?.”
    They flushed darker as I watched them, as arousal flooded me. “I don’t know. Pink, brown? They’re drawing up tight.”
    “Suck on your fingers and then touch yourself there.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, I put my fingers to my lips. As I put the dampened tips on my nipples, he said, “Squeeze them. Imagine it’s me.”
    “I do. Oh, I do.” The cold shock of wetness quickly turned to a burn. Pressure pulled taut before spreading lower in my body, down to my clit. I shifted my legs on the bed.
    “The other side,” he demanded.
    I sucked my fingers again, tasting the salt of my skin, before wetting the other nipple, pressing and pulling its point until a soft sigh escaped me.
    “I want to be there,” he groaned. “I want to put my lips on your breasts, feel your nipples against my tongue.”
    My legs squeezed together all on their own. “What else would you do?”
    “I would lick and bite my way down your belly, your hips. Do that for me. Walk your fingers down your body and tell me how it feels.”
    My skin tingled at his words, the sensation sharpening when I complied. I walked my fingers down my stomach, my nails a small bite in the soft flesh. “It feels…it feels…”
    “Tell me,” he