Page 49 of Dose

“Darius,” Damon says.

“I am making an observation.”

“You made it.”

Damon catches his elbow and steers him back toward the door.

“The food stays,” Darius calls as he goes. “As does my professional admiration for the consistency of your work, Theon.”

The door closes behind them.

Isla looks at the screen. “I should have covered it.”

“Don’t.”

I cross the room and lift her chin. The bruise darkens under my thumb.

“It’s conspicuous,” she says.

“Good.”

Her pupils widen. Her breath catches. The response goes through me hard enough to erase Atlanta from the room for one dangerous second.

There is a sound-damped interview room twenty feet down the corridor.

I look toward it, then back at her. “Tell me no, and we stay here.”

Her eyes flick to Ezra. He has already returned to his model.

“He’ll know why we left.”

“He may infer.”

I wait.

She stands and takes my hand. “Lock the door.”

I do.

The moment the bolt engages, she pulls me down by the front of my shirt and kisses me. My restraint lasts until her mouth opens.

Then I lift her onto the edge of the bolted table and move between her thighs. She drags at my belt while I open her trousers. My hand slips beneath the fabric, testing, teasing, making certain her body is ready without pretending that readiness answers for her.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Yes.” Her fingers tighten in my hair. “Please, Daddy.”

I push into her slowly enough to watch her face change. Her legs lock around my waist. When I begin to move, she bites her lip to hold back the first sound.

“Quiet,” I murmur against her mouth.

“The room is soundproof.”

“I know.”

“Then why⁠—”

I drive deeper. Her question collapses into a gasp.