The apartment was dark when I returned from the late strategy meeting with Judge Warren.
Only the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the space. Shawn was waiting.
He stood in the center of the living room, shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled, the hard lines of his chest and abdomen visible in the low light. His eyes found me the moment I stepped through the door — dark, intense, and filled with days of barely restrained hunger.
No words.
He crossed the room in three strides and pulled me against him, mouth claiming mine in a deep, desperate kiss. His hands slid under my blazer, pushing it off my shoulders, then down my arms. The garment hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Missed you,” he growled against my lips, voice rough with need. “Every f*****g minut
