"Lower the gun, Rose. It's just us."
His voice slid like smooth velvet over her skin, the words a breath of air along the curve of her neck as she felt a hand fall to the gentle curve of her hips. Because Rose knew it was going to happen her body didn't stiffen when she felt the hardness of his press into her backside. His fingers drew a lingering caress up along her side; through the thin fabric of her silk blouse she felt him clearly, as if she were wearing not a stitch of the tailored dress suit. Rose's lashes fluttered, the trail of goosebumps along his fingers betrayed the steady tone of her voice.
"Take your hands off me. Now. This isn't the place or time." She felt his lips curved against his neck and shivered when the edge of his teeth pressed into her skin. His body only pressed closer.
"Not yet. You don't want me to, not really."
"Yes, I — "
"Don't lie, Rose. Your body doesn't." The words came a moment before she shivered and fought back a whimper when teeth all too briefly bit down onto her neck. The gun slipped from her hand into his; a second later she heard it hit the desk. "You've been dreaming about me again, about us. Haven't you?"
"You wouldn't have come for just that." Rose moistened her lips and swept her eyes around the darkened third floor of the newspaper building. Everyone else had left hours ago, only the janitor and security lurked now. They were at least a couple floors away, having both been down there no more than ten minutes ago. Somehow he always seemed to have perfect timing. Instead of answering him she attempted to shift and create some measure of space between him and the desk. It didn't work.
"No," came the deep murmur as his hand traveled further up along her chest and slowly palmed one rounded breast. In his arms she trembled; her eyes closed when his thumb teasingly brushed along her nipple until it proudly erected beneath blouse. The soft moans couldn't be held back when he then teased its twin and gave both slow, deep pinches. "The Dreyford diamonds."
"The Dreyford diamonds? I don't know anymore than you. They were just stolen, no leads, too hot to sell right now. Any smart thief — "
Her words cut off with a sudden gasp and half cry as she was suddenly pushed forward to bend at the waist over her desk, his knee wedging her legs apart and settling closely nestled between them. Tightly he held her wrists at the small of back with one hand, the other searching through the desk drawers beside him. In the bottom one he found what he was looking for: an extra pair of stockings.
"You're lying again." The words came as he efficiently bound her wrists with the nylon and then moved his hands underneath her, undoing button after button until it revealed her bra. With a forceful tug the bra came down, exposing her breasts and still pebbled nipples. Only for a moment did he fondle them again, though, before slipping his hands away and letting her press into the desk. "You met with the Prospero son today."
"It was just a lead, nothing — "
