“So how exactly does this work?” Harlan asked from the study doorway. She’d changed into some tight yoga pants and a T-shirt that hung off one of her shoulders. Her smooth skin drew his eye immediately, thoughts of nibbling it clouding his mind long enough to keep him from answering her question. “Do you just stay awake twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week until nothing on this planet is remotely scary?”

“No,” he replied, breaking his stare on her body. “I’m waiting for the changing of the guard out front in about half an hour. Then I’ll check in to make sure they are aware of what happened earlier. Once I feel confident that the alarm is functioning and set correctly, I’ll get a bit of sleep down here.”

“A man with a plan,” she teased, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder.

“You should get some sleep,” he said, in spite of the fact that if she walked out of the room, he’d miss the way her delicate hand was touching her neck. Whether she knew it or not, she was creating a road map of where he’d like to run his lips.

“I don’t sleep,” she sighed, flopping into a chair and pulling her legs up like a child, curling in on herself.

“Really? Ever? You are part robot?”

“I have a condition,” she explained, her thumb now running across her bottom lip.

“Oh,” he faltered, feeling bad for missing that on the briefing he’d read about Harlan having any kind of health issue.

“Yes, it’s called motherhood. The symptoms are being awoken in the middle of the night and informed that one child’s sock has fallen off. It’s bathroom breaks at midnight that turn into deep philosophical questions about angels. When I do finally get to close my eyes, the sleep is so light I can hear every creak of the floor, every whimper of a nightmare, the first cough of a cold starting. You’ve been trained for years to be on high alert, to be ready . . . well, me too. I’ve traded sound sleep for motherhood, and I can’t say I regret it.”

“Tonight you can sleep well,” he promised, pushing one of the heavy drapes aside and looking out the window. “If there’s a noise, I’ll hear it first.”

“I thought maybe we could talk more about the case. I’ve been thinking if Larry is the only witness against him, and he led the police to the body, and Tim is innocent, then Larry must be somehow involved.”

“Not tonight, Harlan,” Dallas objected, moving behind her in the chair and placing a hand on her bare shoulder where her large T-shirt kept sliding down. “You don’t need one more distraction, one more thing weighing on you.”

“The distraction is welcomed,” she argued. “I think if we found out more about the victim and tried to link Larry to him we could come up with something. It wasn’t random, right?”

“Harlan,” Dallas protested. “You take care of your daughters. You take care of your mother. You hold out hope for your father when no one else does. Had I known you specialized in solving everyone else’s problems, I wouldn’t have pulled you into this. It wasn’t fair.” His hand squeezed down on her shoulder as he rubbed his thumb into the muscle. A low moan escaped her lips while her neck rolled toward the pressure he was pushing into her skin. “Someone should take care of you.”

“Yeah,” she panted, groaning as his free hand came down on her other shoulder and started to knead even deeper. “I can’t remember the last time I had a back rub.” She swept her hair away from her back and leaned forward, exposing more to rub. Every swirl of his thumb caused a new breathy moan to rise up from her.

He was rock hard now, the smell of her hair wafting toward him and creating such desire that his other senses dulled, overpowered. “Lie down,” he ordered, pulling her up and leading her to the couch in the corner. “They won’t switch at the gate for a few more minutes. Let me make you feel good.”

“The kids,” Harlan protested weakly, a shiver running up her spine. But her objection didn’t stop her from lying down on the couch and pulling her shirt up so he could get his hands on her bare back.

An inch from her spine on either side he ran his thumbs up with deep pressure. He’d been trained to use restraint, to understand what willpower was, but in that moment not kissing the silky skin of her back took every ounce of his control. He was a man dying in the desert, and she was a waterfall ready to rain down and save his life.

Harlan shuddered and drew in a sharp breath as he reached the base of her back, her ass rising up, begging to be grabbed and slapped.

“Some people say oysters are aphrodisiacs,” Harlan purred. “But a back rub is far more potent than anything I’ve ever eaten.”

“Maybe I should stop,” Dallas offered, his voice layered with disappointment at the idea of having to stop touching her body.

“Probably,” she said, reluctantly sitting up and settling her shirt back in place. “You’re on guard duty. And I’m on mom duty. It’s a bad idea for us to do anything again.” Fixing her eyes on his face, she straightened the collar of his shirt and patted it down. Her lips lingered just inches from his, begging to be kissed.

His watch chimed and a shock of reality shot through his body as he realized his responsibilities were calling him. “We need to figure out whether or not we’re going to break the rules. I’ll need to know.”

“Why? You don’t like spontaneity?” she asked, nibbling on her lip coyly.

“I do,” he said, raising a brow at her. “But if the answer is no, I can’t rub your back. I can’t brush your hair off your shoulder or even stand too close.” He stood and drew in a deep breath, cramming his hands into his pockets as though they needed to be contained if he had any chance at all of following the rules. “Hell, I won’t even be able to look at you too long.”

“Let’s just agree that tonight isn’t the right night, but I’m not ready to say never. I’d hate to have to live in a world where you can’t stand too close to me.”

“I’m going to go check on the guards switching out now,” Dallas said, unable to ignore her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He could see her excited nipples poking against the thin cotton of the large T-shirt. It would only take one second, like the snap of a twig, to have everything inside him break open. He’d prop her up on the desk, tear away whatever she wore under those tight yoga pants and bury himself deep inside her. But tonight was not the night. “You’re killing me though, just so you know.”

“I’m going to run a bath,” she whispered as he forced himself out of the study. “I’m going to run a hot soapy bath, pour myself some wine, and soak. I’ll have the water so hot my skin will tingle and turn pink from the heat. The bathroom gets full of steam, you can just barely see a few inches in front of you. I’m going to soak in there. Alone. Just me and the hot, hot water.”

“Fuck,” Dallas said, speeding back toward her, barely catching her lips curling into a smile before grabbing her tightly in his arms and lifting her onto the desk. “Fuck, you are killing me,” he breathed into her ear as her hands clutched his back. Pushing her hard nipples against his chest, she arched to him, grinding against his firmness and losing her breath.

“Just think how amazing it’ll be. Think about the right night,” she said into his ear, licking his lobe and then pulling it between her teeth. “Just think of what we’ll do to each other. Think of how bad we’ll want, no, need it by then.”

“You are a dangerous woman,” he moaned in a husky voice. He pulled away, putting her back down on her feet. “Go take that bath. And maybe when you’re in that steam and you’re thinking of me—” Dallas was cut short by his ringing phone, which sent Harlan jumping, holding him tighter for a minute.

“Good night, Dallas,” she sighed, rubbing against him as she slid by and headed out the study door.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he watched her tight ass prance away. “What the hell did I get myself into?”