Marcus was quiet for a beat. "That wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?" Bitterness coated my tongue. "I had all the pieces. The evidence was there, but I couldn't—wouldn't—let myself see beyond the data. And now—" I gestured at the training log. "I'm watching it happen again. Watching someone turn your discipline into their canvas, and I can't—"
"Can't what?" He stepped closer, close enough that I smelled the mint of his toothpaste beneath coffee and sweat. "What's stopping you, James?"
"I don't do reckless." The words sounded desperate. "I can't afford to miss something because I let myself—"
"I think we already did." His voice dropped lower. "In the rain. At the warehouse."
My hand rose without permission, fingertips barely brushing the tension in his jaw. "That was—"
"Was what?" His breath swept across my palm. "An aberration? A mistake? Tell me you haven't thought about it. Tell me you don't—"
The last thread of my restraint snapped. I shoved him back against the wall, swallowing his harsh exhale with my mouth. There was nothing gentle about it—all teeth and desperation. His hands fisted in my shirt, yanking me closer as if he could crawl inside my skin.
Analytical patterns fragmented. The part of my brain that cataloged evidence and analyzed behavior dissolved into pure sensation. Marcus's teeth scraped my throat, the bite of pain dragging a sound from me I barely recognized.
"Tell me to stop." His voice vibrated against my pulse.
Instead, I dug my fingers into his shoulders, feeling the burn-scarred skin beneath his shirt. The researcher in me wanted to map each mark and understand the forces that had shaped him. The rest of me just wanted him.
He spun us, pinning me against the wall. The impact drove the air from my lungs, but I pulled him harder against me. His handtugged out the tail of my shirt, slipping fingers underneath the fabric and palming the ridge of my spine where that old climbing scar interrupted the terrain.
"You're thinking too much." Marcus bit the words into my collarbone.
"Force of habit." I raked my nails down his back, feeling muscle shift beneath my hands. "The deltoid tension in your left shoulder indicates—"
He cut me off with another bruising kiss. "Stop analyzing."
"I can't." I gasped as his teeth found my neck. "The way your trapezius flexes when you—"
"James." He pressed his forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard. "Feel."
The command undid me. Raw lust obscured my academic reasoning like a thundercloud blotting out the sun. I grabbed his hips, yanking him closer as my careful walls crumbled. His hands bracketed my face, thumbs pressing against my jaw as if he could physically hold me in the moment.
His teeth nipped at my lower lip, drawing a hiss from me. My hands reached out to roam his body, shoving up under his shirt to feel the rigid lines of his muscles, the rough texture of his scars, and the heat of his skin. His heart pounded against his ribs, a primal rhythm matching my own.
He yanked my shirt open, buttons flying, and pushed it down my arms, trapping them at my sides. His mouth was on my bare collarbone, biting and sucking, marking me like an animal.
His hands were rough and callused as they slid down my chest, scraping over my nipples. I gasped, arching into his touch, the sensation shooting straight to my cock. He grinned against my skin, doing it again, harder this time.
He turned me back around and pressed me hard against the wall, his breath heavy on the back of my neck. The impact jarred my bones, but I was far past caring. All I wanted was his bodyagainst mine, his mouth on my skin, and his hands pinning my wrists above my head.
He shoved his knee between my legs, spreading them, and the hard length of him ground against me.
Marcus's teeth nipped at my earlobe. "If you want something, James, all you've got to do is ask. Tell me what you want."
I growled, low in my throat, my body writhing against his. "You know what I want, Marcus."
He gently turned me back around and pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. They were dark, almost black, his pupils blown wide. He held my gaze as he slowly sank to his knees, his hands sliding down my body as he went.
His fingers made quick work of my belt, yanking it open before moving on to my pants. He shoved them down, his hands rough and impatient. My cock sprang free, hard and aching, and I saw the seething hunger in his eyes as he looked at it.
He leaned in, and his tongue flicked out, wet and warm, tasting me. I groaned, my head thudding back against the wall and my eyes squeezing shut.
He took his time, licking and sucking, his hands gripping my hips, holding me still. It was torture, heaven, and everything in between.
When he finally took me into his mouth, the heat, wetness, and suction were almost too much, but I needed more. I needed him to never stop.
