Keep your mind on the job.
“That’s part of what we’re figuring out. Are you right-handed or left-handed?”
“Right-handed. So was the man who broke into Jack and Ava’s place.”
“Where would you stand to stab a man in the left side of the throat?”
Quinn thought through the motions. “I’d have to be standin’ in front of him, aye?”
“Wouldn’t Jack see the knife coming?”
“Aye, but no’ necessarily in time to react.” Quinn moved lightning-fast, his hand stopping millimeters away from Elizabeth’s throat.
Her pupils went wide. “Wow. Okay. What if he stood on Jack’s right side?”
Quinn moved to stand beside her, putting about an arm’s length of space between them. “It’s awkward. He’d need a bit of room to get up the necessary momentum even with a sharp blade. It’s no’ easy to sink a knife into a man’s body. It takes force to penetrate skin and tissue, and if you strike bone...”
He feigned drawing a blade, driving it into her throat. “Aye, that might work. I cannae say whether Jack would have seen it.”
“And from behind?”
Quinn walked behind her, rested a hand on the slender curve of her shoulder, and pressed a finger to her neck, the scent of her skin filling his head. “The thrust of a bladeherewould instantly sever a man’s carotid.”
Her eyes drifted shut. “And … his trachea, too.”
“If the killer cuts hard and deep enough.” Quinn knew he shouldn’t, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He ducked down, brushed feather-light kisses over the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
She gasped but didn’t pull away. “I-if the attacker was behind him, wouldn’t Jack have …. heard … him … coming?”
“Possibly.” He nipped his way along her throat, felt the frantic rush of her pulse. “It wouldnae have been easy to sneak up on Jack.”
She sank against him, her head resting against his chest, her eyes still closed. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“Aye, I know.” He nibbled her earlobe and reached around to cup her breasts, their weight filling his hands, making him hard. “I want you, Lilibet.”
She arched into his hands. “What about our jobs, our contracts?”
Quinn didn’t give a damn, not when touching her like this felt so right. Besides, how would Corbray or Tower find out? “Are you goin’ to grass on us?”
“No.” She took one of his hands, moved it down between her thighs.
He cupped her through her jeans, groaned as she ground herself against his hand. She was as passionate as he had imagined she’d be, her body pliant beneath his touch.
He slid one hand beneath her blouse, teasing the tight bud of her nipple through the lace of her bra while his other hand slid inside her panties.
Och, she was already wet.
She moaned, rocked her hips forward, urging him on.
He stroked her clit, letting her responses guide him—the little shudder of breath when he got it just right, the involuntary jerk of her hips, her attempt to part her thighs. “I want to undress you, kiss every inch of you, and fuck you until you scream my name.”
“Yes.”
He scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bedroom, and set her on her feet at the foot of the bed. Then he reached over and flicked on the light. “I want to see you.”
She started to take off her blouse, but he stopped her.
“Let me.” He drew her blouse over her head, her nipples just visible through the lace of her bra. He reached behind her, and unfastened the clasp, hungry to have those nipples in his mouth. “Perfect.”