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“How the hell did you let this happen, Lieutenant?”
“How did I let this happen? I’m not in here by myself—”
“You should’ve said truth—”
“It wasn’t even your dare!” she cut in, clearly exasperated. “It’s not my fault you let Carisi goad you—”
“Stop squirming.”
“Believe it or not, Barba, your lap is not that comfortable.”
“I’ve never had complaints before.”
“Wow. Yeah, okay. How about we stop talking and just wait for this to be over.”
“Fine.” He paused, then said, “You should’ve said truth, you’re their boss, they wouldn’t have asked anything too—”
“Being their boss is exactly why I didn’t,” she said.
“This’ll earn their respect,” he answered, and she could practically hear his eyeroll.
“I think I’ve already earned their respect,” she shot back, and he could hear the bite in her voice. He almost apologized, but then she wiggled again and he felt a new rush of annoyance. “This is ridiculous. We’re fifty years old—”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I was averaging,” she snapped. “Either way, we’re both middle aged, professional people. And we’re friends,” she added as an afterthought.
“This doesn’t feel very professional. Or…friendsy…”
“Again, you didn’t have to be here, it was my—”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“We all work SVU, Barba, we wouldn’t be in here if we hadn’t both consented to this nonsense.”
He gave a long pause before saying, in a low voice, “That’s not what I meant.”
“No, you meant you’re incapable of refusing a dare, even though you have nothing to prove—certainly not to Carisi—”
“Stop squirming.”
She raised her right hand. There was a small metallic jangle from the cuffs, and his hand rose with hers.
“What are you doing?”
“My nose itches,” she snapped, scratching at her nose while his hand hovered nearby. Their other hands, also cuffed together, rested on her left thigh, his with his palm up and fingers curled. The effort not to touch her inappropriately was funny considering she was sitting on his lap, in a dark closet, while their friends and coworkers got steadily drunker in the living room of her apartment.
“How long has it been?”
“One minute since the last time you asked.”
“How do you know? You can’t see—”
“Then why’d you ask?”
He sighed and shifted slightly beneath her.
“If you say anything about weight…”
“I’m not an idiot.”
In spite of herself, she smiled in the darkness. “No,” she agreed. “Although I suppose we both look like idiots right now. If anyone could see us.”
“Why is your closet so small?”
“I don’t have as many clothes as you.”
He laughed. “Can’t argue with that.”
“You? Found something you can’t argue with?” She tried to look over her shoulder at him, but even with the thin strip of light creeping beneath the closet door, she couldn’t make out his face. “It’s hot in here,” she complained, because she could feel sweat trickling down her temples.
Barba cleared his throat but didn’t answer.
“I hope you have a good idea of how to pay them back for this,” she said. “We should be brainstorming.”
“Liv. Could you…”
“I’m sorry, I’d stand if I could—”
“We should call this off.”
“What? Rafael Barba, admit defeat?”
“Like you said, I have nothing to prove to Carisi—”
“It’s only fifteen minutes, Rafa, probably closer to ten, now—”
“Liv.”
“—and I’m not about to let them—”
“Olivia.”
“What? What’s the big…oh.” Behind her, she heard him release his breath in a soft puff.
Almost as soft as the sound of his breath, he said, “Shit.”
“I…I didn’t…Rafael, you don’t have to be—”
“Stop talking.”
“—embarrassed. It’s a natural...” She trailed off when he groaned low in his throat. After a few seconds, the awkward silence was too much to bear, though, and she added: “I know it’s not about me, you don’t have to be—”
“Lieutenant, if you can’t be still and quiet, I will pay you a thousand dollars to knock me unconscious.”
Her pause was longer this time. “I never guessed you’d be into the rough stuff, Counsellor,” she finally said.
He made a choked sound that was half laughter. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood, and that she’d weighed the pros and cons of gambling on such a joke. She hesitated. “Although, on our first case together you asked a guy to choke you with a belt, so I guess there might’ve been signs.”
“I would guess you wouldn’t be still and quiet,” he returned.
She laughed, but he could hear the embarrassment in the sound.
“Nor would I ask you to be, under other circumstances,” he added before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes in the darkness. “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”
She was silent, and he cursed himself as he tried not to squirm beneath her. She was holding herself rigidly, unmoving, but his lap was filled with her heat. There was no escape. There were no words meaningful enough to apologize to her for his body’s betrayal.
“Do you want me to get off?” she asked after what felt like an eternity.
He opened his mouth and promptly snapped it shut again. A hysterical laugh was trapped in the back of his throat, and he had no idea what to do with it. Sweat was trickling inside his clothes, tickling his sides and lower back, but the burning in his face wasn’t from the heat of the closet.
“You know what I meant,” she said, and he’d never realized it was possible to hear another person blushing until that moment. “I can try to stand…”
He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead against her back. That didn’t help—now her scent was even stronger, and she shifted a bit in surprise—but there was no magic cure for this situation. There was no way he could get out of the closet without his pride taking some considerable knocks, so he might as well settle into the humiliation.
“Barba?”
“Hmm.”
“Do you want me to get up?”
“I don’t know how to answer that,” he said after several beats of silence.
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“Either would feel like a lie,” he admitted. He felt, more than heard, her suck in a breath while she contemplated his response. “I’m sorry, Liv. Can we just agree to never mention this again?”
A long pause. “If that’s what you want.”
He lifted his head to look at her dark outline. He didn’t like what he heard in her voice, and for a moment it took precedence over his own discomfort. “Don’t…you think that would be for the best…?”
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
He blinked sweat from his eyes.
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”
He rolled his shoulders; his shirt was stuck to his skin.
“We both know arousal doesn’t mean—”
“I didn’t realize it was my decision.”
Hesitantly: “What?”
“I’m the one who didn’t want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“I’ve asked you—Nevermind.”
“No—say what you want—”
“I don’t think it could be clearer what I want. But if you want to pretend that I didn’t make an effort to pursue a relationship, that’s fine, I’ll take the blame. I’d just like it on the record first that I never held it against you or let it affect our friendship. Or our working—”
“You made an effort to pursue a relationship?”
“I asked you out more than once.”
“Out, out?”
“Let’s drop it.”
“No, wait—you asked me to dinner or drinks and I was busy, I never said—Why didn’t you say you wanted—”
“Continuing past a no is something I’d hope you know I wouldn’t do.”
“I didn’t say no, I said…not that night…”
“Reading the room is part of my job, Lieutenant, and—”
“You misread the room.”
“I’ve never misread a room in my life,” he said, and she laughed at the indignation in his voice. He couldn’t blame her; he supposed his self-righteousness was ridiculous at the moment.
“Then maybe you heard what you wanted to hear.”
He mulled that over, frowning in the dark. “You think I wanted you to say no?”
“Maybe you were afraid of a yes.”
“Afraid?”
“That everything would change.”
“I still asked.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe I wasn’t the one who was afraid.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe…I wasn’t the only one who was afraid,” he amended into her reticence.
“And now?”
“Now?” he laughed. “Now you’re sitting in my lap in the dark and I’m terrified.”
“Come on, Barba,” she said, once more trying to lighten the mood, “think about baseball or something. This’ll be over in a few minutes—”
“I don’t think you realize how serious my, um…situation is…”
“Honestly? I’m sort of having a situation of my own,” she admitted. “It’s just not as obvious…yet…”
“That is spectacularly unhelpful, Olivia,” he said. He closed his eyes again as her laughter created a few moments of friction. He shifted a little, hoping a nice hard pinch from his slacks would shock some sense into his body.
“No? What kind of help are you looking for?”
“I hate to repeat myself, but if you could knock me unconscious…”
She laughed again, and he barely suppressed a groan. “How long’s it been, Barba?” she asked, and he knew she wasn’t talking about how long they’d been in the closet.
“That’s a very personal question.”
“Oh? I thought we were doing personal.”
“My current condition is not a result of chastity, Olivia, it’s a result of you sitting on me. To be clear. But. A long time.”
“Me, too. To be clear. Although you already know that.”
“Do I?”
“My days of casual hookups are gone, Rafael. So yes, you do.”
“So…hypothetically speaking, if I were to—”
“Yes.”
He snorted softly. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Didn’t want to give you a chance to misread the room again.”
“I told you, I’ve never—”
She shifted backward without warning, settling herself more firmly into his lap, and all the air left his body in a rush. He made a very indelicate sound and his hands turned, gripping her thighs. Her own fingers curled around his wrists behind the cuffs.
“Jee…suss Christ, Liv,” he managed.
“Does this hurt?”
“Hurt?” he repeated, not quite able to make sense of the word. “Uhm—I don’t—I can’t—”
“What were you going to ask?”
“I—Liv, I’m—I don’t want to be crude, but I think you’re overestimating my self-control—”
“Really? Do you want me to stop?”
He fought the overwhelming urge to squirm. Yes, it was painful—his pants were much too snug, and her weight now had him pinned against his thigh—but it wasn’t a pain that he would complain about. Except: “I have to walk out of here,” he reminded her in a low voice. “Right now it’s embarrassing but in about two minutes it’s going to be exponentially worse.”
“This is my apartment.”
He waited, still trying desperately not to move, but she didn’t elaborate. He bit back a groan of frustration and said, “So…”
“So, the instant they open this door, I’ll kick them all out.”
He laughed carefully. “You don’t think your team of elite detectives will know why—”
“They’ll know eventually anyway.”
“Eventually?” he asked hesitantly.
“Unless I misread…”
She started to shift her weight and he lifted a hand, splaying his palm against her stomach. He felt her breath catch, and a moment later her hand covered his. The fingers of his other hand slid slowly toward her inner thigh.
“How many minutes do you think we have left?” he asked, and a shiver passed through her at the low rumble of his voice. He nosed into her hair to find her neck; she was sweaty, but the scent of her skin shot a fresh bolt of desire to his groin. He pressed his lips against her nape experimentally and she leaned into the soft touch. “Liv?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” His fingers inched along her inner thigh.
“Yes,” she repeated, spreading her knees further apart.
His fingers slipped down into the heat between her legs, and his other hand ventured upward until his palm found the mound of one breast through her blouse. Her hands, cuffed to his, rode his wrists. She gasped when his middle finger traced the seam along the center of her crotch. He breathed heavily against her neck, concentrating on stalling his own imminent climax. He was embarrassingly close.
“I wish I could see you,” he murmured. Her hand tightened on his wrist, and he obediently increased the pressure of his fingers, rubbing in small circles until the involuntary arching of her back told him he’d found his target.
“Next time,” she gasped.
“I wish I could feel your skin,” he whispered before sucking lightly at the bit of skin he could reach, her neck.
“Later,” she breathed in response. “Raf?”
“Hmm?”
“I…mmm…could you—” She broke off in another quiet gasp as his fingers moved faster, harder. She leaned back against him, her hips sliding forward a bit as her body sought more contact. Her fingers were digging into his wrists, her nails biting his skin. “Rafael.”
Her legs clamped tight against his, and he could feel the tension thrumming through her body and into his, and he closed his eyes. He was drenched in sweat and it was taking all of his willpower not to thrust against her. As he felt her body beginning to writhe in his grip he pulled her backward, holding her tightly against himself. She bucked against his hand, saying his name again on a broken breath, and his own orgasm hit him like a freight train—knocking the wind from his chest and the thoughts from his head.
He buried his face against her shoulder, choking back the cry in his throat, as he soaked his underwear with pulse after pulse of his seed. He’d known he was close, but he was unprepared for the intensity. He supposed part of it might be due to his limited movement, but mostly it was her: the feeling of her quivering in his lap, the heat of her body, the scent of her hair and skin and familiar perfume, the ragged puffs of her breath and the sound of his name on her lips, the fact that he’d never in his life loved anyone the way he loved her.
“Liv,” he breathed against her shirt. He was shaking; the tightness of his pants was now verging on unbearable.
She seemed to understand his problem, and she tried to shift her weight onto one of his legs. He moaned, praying that no one opened the closet door in the next few moments. He had zero hope of being able to compose himself. His shirt was drenched in perspiration and his pants were now soaked with semen.
“As soon as they uncuff us, you slip into the bathroom,” she whispered. “I’ll get rid of everyone.” Her voice was shaky, and she was still clutching at his wrists. He realized dully that his left hand was still on her breast, and he lowered their hands to her leg.
“Liv.”
“I wish I could touch you,” she said.
He tried to laugh but it sounded a little whimpery to his ears.
“You know what I mean,” she said, and he did.
“Yes,” he said. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Next time.”
“Are you okay?” She turned her head, but he knew she couldn’t see his face.
“I need to get out of these pants. How are you?”
Before she could answer, they heard the timer beeping from the other room. “Okay, they’ll come in and uncuff us. It’s hotter than hell in here, so the sweat is—Rafa?”
“Hmm.”
“You might want to get your hand out of my crotch.”
“Oh. Jesus,” he said, sliding his hand up onto her leg. “Sorry.”
She laughed quietly. “I’ll get rid of them and we can take a shower.” She paused. “I mean…showers.”
Sweat was stinging Barba’s eyes. He watched the line of light at the bottom of the door for a shadow of movement, wondering if they would have the decency to at least knock before they burst into the closet. The alarm was still sounding somewhere in the apartment.
“I’ll throw your clothes in the laundry and they’ll be done by morning.”
The assumption that he would stay the night made him smile, and he kissed her shoulder again. “What’ll I sleep in?” he teased.
“My bed?” she suggested, and he chuckled as he pushed his face into her sweaty hair. “Me?” she added, and she laughed at his groan. “Unless you want to leave. I have some sweats you could borrow.”
“Mmm. I definitely don’t want to leave,” he murmured. He lifted his head before he could get carried away again. The wet friction in his tight pants already had him trapped in the precarious area between relief and overstimulation, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand without further embarrassing himself. “What the hell is taking them so long?”
“Come on, guys, you’ve had your fun!” Benson called.
Barba snorted quietly.
“Shut up,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Seriously, if you all want to be employed by Monday morning, you’d better open the door and let us out of here!” She waited, but there was no sign of movement. The alarm continued its signal. “Sergeant Tutuola,” she called.
“I like that tone,” Barba said.
“Do you? I can certainly order you around if you’d like.”
“They’re not coming.”
“No shit. Guess we hurried for nothing.”
He laughed. “Going slowly wasn’t really an option for me. This time.”
“Ooh, promises.”
“Do you think they actually left?”
“Seems like it. Come on, we’re going to have to stand up.”
“Um.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have a choice. Come on, count of three. One, two—” She held his wrists; he wasn’t sure if she was trying to steady him, or herself, but they somehow managed to rise in unison. “Okay?” she asked over her shoulder at the sound of his grunt.
He shook his leg and sighed in relief as the pressure in his crotch lessened. His mess had cooled, and that disgusting sensation was helpful, too. “Yes. You?”
“I think I stink.”
“Hmm.” He pressed close against her back and found the side of her neck with his lips. The angle was so much better now that they were evenly matched in height, and he flattened his hands over her stomach and he nuzzled beneath her ear. “I’ve never felt more in need of a shower in my life. Let’s get out of here.”
She reached out to push the closet door open, and he was forced to mimic the motion. They both squinted and blinked against the light as they stepped awkwardly forward into the bedroom. They looked toward the living room but couldn’t see anyone, or hear anything other than the alarm.
“Left, then right,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, laughing when she gently elbowed him. They shuffled out of the room, stepping together. He left as much space as he could between their bodies now, painfully aware of how gross he and his clothes were.
There was no one in the living room or kitchen. Barba wasn’t sure which was stronger: his annoyance or his relief. He and Benson made their way to the coffee table, and he shifted slightly to the side so they could bend down. She killed the alarm and snatched up the handcuff keys. He felt an irrational stab of disappointment when she unlocked the first metal ring and it fell away from his left wrist.
In a matter of seconds, she had them freed from their restraints, and she dropped the cuffs and keys onto the table. Instead of stepping away, Barba settled a hand onto her hip and used his other hand to shift her hair aside so he could finally properly nuzzle the curve of her neck.
“I should go lock the door,” she said.
“Mmhm,” he agreed, sliding his palm from her hip, up over her stomach.
“And we should get cleaned up.”
He hummed in assent again, sliding his lips up the side of her neck to her ear.
“Do you—ah. Do you need help?”
“With?”
“Getting cleaned up.”
He smiled against her neck. “I definitely do.”
She turned toward him, and he lifted his head to meet her dark eyes. He swallowed, searching her face. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips parted in invitation. He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers, softly, experimentally. She flattened herself against his body but he shifted his hips away with a grimace.
“I need to get out of these clothes, I’m disgusting,” he said.
She touched her lips to his again and murmured, “Meet me in the bathroom.” He nodded and watched her walk over to lock and chain the door. When she turned to find him still standing there, staring after her, she rolled her eyes and smiled. She shooed him toward the bathroom, and he grinned as he obeyed. He swallowed again when she stepped into the smaller room behind him and closed the door. He heard the click of the lock and turned slowly to face her.
She reached for his shirt and he circled his fingers around her wrists, stopping her.
“You’re not getting shy now that the lights are on,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
He smiled. “May I?” he asked. She nodded and let her arms lower back to her sides as he reached for her buttons. She watched as he slowly and efficiently unfastened each one down the center of her shirt. His eyes skimmed over her black bra and the pale swell of her breasts, down her stomach, and back up to her face. He watched her expression as he slipped the shirt back off her shoulders and let it fall to the bathroom floor.
He reached slowly behind her, still watching her face, and she felt his warm fingers find the clasp of her bra. He paused, waiting for permission, and she nodded again. He undid the hooks with a skilled twist of his fingers, smirking at her small laugh.
“How long did you practice that?” she asked.
“Forty-eight years,” he intoned. “That’s the first time it’s worked.”
She laughed again and rolled her eyes. “Liar,” she accused.
“Well.” He slipped his fingers up into her hair and tilted his head closer, searching her eyes. “It’s the first time I’ve been this nervous about it.”
She smiled. “Who you trying to impress, Barba?”
“Always you, Liv,” he answered. He tipped his head. His lips brushed hers, still gentle, questioning, as though he wasn’t quite able to believe she wasn’t going to stop him. His fingers found the straps on her shoulders and slid them down her arms, and her bra was discarded onto her blouse. He unfastened her slacks and slipped his hands inside, splaying his fingers over her hips.
“Are you going to kiss me better than this, or not?”
He smiled against her lips. “You don’t like this?”
“I didn’t say that.” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him, pushing him back against the door. He grunted and laughed, and then her lips were covering his and he hummed in approval as she claimed his mouth. She grabbed the bottom of his polo and he shifted away from the door enough for her to draw the shirt up and over his head. She flung it over her shoulder.
He started to laugh again, but the sound cut off abruptly when she pressed into him, bare skin finally meeting bare skin. He turned his face away from hers to draw a sharp breath. “Jesus, Liv,” he said. “Do you have any idea…” He didn’t finish the question, though. When she fumbled open his fly, he said, “I can do that, I’m a mess.”
“That’s what the shower’s for,” she answered, pushing his pants down his hips. She glanced up at his face. “Silk?” He cocked an eyebrow in response. “These might be ruined.”
“Worth it,” he said, flashing his teeth in a grin when she shot him a dirty look. “I don’t remember the party invitation warning me—”
“Do you always wear silk underwear?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Come on, Barba, we both know better than to ask questions we don’t already know the answer to,” she shot back, and he chuckled. “May I?” she asked.
“Please,” he answered with a smirk. She pushed his wet underwear down his hips and glanced down his body. He sighed. “That’s a relief.”
She shook her head and tsked. “Such a mess,” she lamented. “Look at you.”
“I’d rather look at you.”
She stepped back and stripped the rest of the way out of her pants and underwear and turned to start the shower. She could feel his eyes on her backside and smiled, glancing back while she adjusted the water temperature. “Well? Any comments?”
“Pulchritudo ineffabilis.”
She straightened and turned toward him. “Latin?”
He smirked.
“Nobody speaks Latin.” She paused. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, nobody speaks Latin.”
“Alright, smartass,” she said. “Get in the shower.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed. He stepped away from the door and grabbed her hips, slanting his mouth over hers. Her hands fisted into his sweaty hair, but she let him control this kiss. Then his warm hands were skimming along her skin, lightly tracing her curves, and she steered him toward the bathtub. They stepped awkwardly into the shower together, their hands roaming freely, exploring each other’s bodies.
The water was hot, but not unbearably so, and it rinsed the sweat from their skin. Barba pressed her against the cool wall and kissed her until she couldn’t think about anything but his mouth. His thumbs skated over her nipples and she arched against him, turning her head to pull in a breath.
She dropped her head back against the wall when his hand slipped between her legs. She spread her feet and closed her eyes as his mouth found the sensitive skin of her throat. One hand massaged gently at her breast, his thumb tracing circles over her hardened nipple, while he kissed and sucked at the side of her neck. The fingers of his right hand found her slick and ready, and he found his mark without fumbling.
She gasped his name, running her hands down his sides to pull him closer. The quickness of her second orgasm caught her by surprise, and she arched against his hand, crying out as the tremors wracked her body. Her legs trembled beneath her, but she knew he wouldn’t let her fall. When he lifted his head to claim her mouth, she accepted his kiss eagerly, breathlessly, clinging to his wet body until her shivers had passed.
Then she sank back against the wall, her chest heaving, and watched him grab the bar of soap. She looked him over, her gaze following the glistening curls that led downward. He was partially erect and seemed entirely unconcerned about his own body. He rubbed the bar of soap between his hands, working up a lather, and when she met his eyes she could see the mixture of desire and amusement in his gaze.
He soaped her slowly, methodically—her shoulders, breasts, stomach, thighs—letting the shower rinse away the suds. When she took the soap from his hand and started washing his shoulders, and working the foam into the dark curls across his chest, he slipped his hand between her thighs again.
She washed down his stomach and circled her soapy fingers around his length. She felt him hardening against her palm, and his breath hitched, but his fingers were already carrying her toward the edge again. Her hands faltered, and she dropped her forehead against his shoulder as she shuddered. He slipped a finger inside of her for the first time, and her body immediately tightened around him, trying to draw him deeper.
She wasn’t sure her legs would support her for much longer, so it was a relief when he turned himself into the spray of the shower and quickly rinsed the soap from his body. He killed the water and stepped out onto the bathmat, grabbing a towel. He turned toward her, holding it open.
His expression was soft, his eyes watchful. His lips were curved into a smile, and she stepped out of the tub and into the waiting towel without hesitation. She let him dry her flushed skin, and then she reached for another towel and returned the favor.
She took his hand and led him back into the bedroom, and he chuckled when she pushed him onto the bed. She dropped onto him, kissing him eagerly while his hands cupped her ass and pulled her flush against his erection.
She made a sound of surprise when he suddenly flipped her over, covering her body with his. He grinned down at her and planted a few quick kisses over her face before shifting, kissing his way down her chest—detouring briefly to flick his tongue against one hard nipple—and stomach. Her skin quivered beneath his lips.
He pushed her thighs apart, and she tried to bite back her cry as his tongue found her almost painfully sensitive. His ministrations were gentle but relentless, and she clutched at his damp hair, writhing on the bed. He slid a finger inside of her, and then a second, and her back arched as he found his second target as easily as he’d found the first.
“Raf—ahh,” she gasped, tugging on his hair. Her muscles were already trembling. “Please.”
He lifted his head to look up at her. “Do you have protection?” he asked.
She laughed, a little desperately. “Yes, but I—want to feel you,” she managed, pulling at his hair until he finally started to crawl up the length of her body.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” she assured him, snaking a hand between their bodies to find his erection. She guided him into place while she pulled his head down for another kiss. He groaned against her mouth as he sank into her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him deeper. She made a sound of frustration when he didn’t immediately begin to move, instead taking a moment to savor the feeling of being joined together.
He cupped his hands to her face, kissing her slowly and thoroughly, and she knew he was amused by her impatience. She dug her heels into him, trying to urge him to move. When he still refused to oblige, she broke away from his kiss.
“You taking a nap here, or what?” she asked, and his laugh vibrated through their bodies. She shivered beneath him, running her palms over his ass. “Barba.”
“Yes, Liv?” he asked with an innocent smile.
“Move,” she ordered, and with an impish grin he obeyed.