take him as deep as I could. To taste him, tongue him, indulge in the simplicity of his moans, my sighs. His fingers, my hair. His cock, my mouth—the heady, rich taste of him was immediately addicting. And so was watching him come fully undone, give in to his urges when he had nothing to do except receive sexual pleasure. The harder he pulled my hair, the hotter I got, the deeper I took him, the more intense he became. Our eyes remained locked until he couldn’t stand it anymore—head falling back, hands dragging me off his cock and up his body. There wasn’t even a question. Abe shoved me back, kissed me breathless, and slid his cock slowly, slowly inside.
I dug my nails into his ass, pulled him harder against me. He groaned against my mouth. Gave me a hard, brutal stroke that made me cry his name.
“Sloane,” he said, setting a rhythm I loved, needed, craved.
“Ye-yes, yes?” I panted.
“When we get home, our real home,” he said, voice on edge. “I want to come to where you are. Or you can come to Philadelphia. I don’t care as long as we’re together.” His cock between my legs was a steady, driving thrust, and it felt so goddamn good I couldn’t handle it. I kissed him, clung to him, chanted his name.
“Abe, Abe, yes.”
“Yes, as in ‘don’t stop?’ Or yes to what I said?” He held my palms down, entwined our fingers. Rocked into me over and over and over. He was going to make me come before I could tell him ‘yes, please, I’ll go anywhere.’ Which I managed to pant out through a sloppy, fevered kiss.
“Can I come to you?”
“To Philadelphia?” he asked, smile starting to form. Sweat beaded on his brow. My toes were curling, back arching, nipples hard, sensitive.
“Please, I want…” God, this man. Only Abe knew I wouldn’t be able to ask for this, that I needed it to be fucked right out of me. “I want you. I want to be with you. Home isn’t… my home isn’t…”
His thumb swiped away a tear. He didn’t slow his movements but drove his cock into me harder, deeper, more intently. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Abe held my face tenderly. Which allowed me to say, “My home isn’t a home.”
“Mine either,” he whispered. He brought our mouths together. “You would make it one, though.”
I couldn’t speak coherently after that—I was so overcome with euphoria. We orgasmed together in a panting, sweating, nail-scratching mess. He swiped another tear, then another. But it just wasn’t possible for me to leave this man.
His chaos was too beautiful.
Our destinies were too fated.
49
Sloane
Three hours later and I was back in front of Louisa Davies, in her office at the library where Bernard Allerton would officially not be working at any longer. Especially once his trial started.
Louisa, to her credit, couldn’t contain her surprise or excitement as I unveiled the entire story to her. “He was living in a bookstore in London?”
I grinned, crossed my legs. “Adler’s. Behind a secret bookshelf. We’ll learn more soon, but it appears as though the Sherlock Society used that space all of the time for secret meetings or to store things like stolen books.”
She closed her eyes. “All this bloody time.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” I said. “Although, it wasn’t a bad spot. With the exception of Peter, who would ever know he was there? A lot more information will shake out in the coming days and weeks, and I’ll keep you informed of all of it.” I swallowed, lifted a shoulder. “Louisa, I need to be totally honest with you. I can’t claim sole responsibility for this contract.” I nodded at the sheet of paper. Nodded again, grimly, at the sizable check she’d had cut for me already. Money I’d earned and needed. It just didn’t sit right with me not to admit that I’d actually worked with a team.
“About a week ago, I partnered with Abe Royal and Codex, who flew out here to search for Bernard on their own. At that point, my leads were drying up and our deadline was looming. We helped each other. We were together when we captured Bernard,” I said.
She looked utterly surprised. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
There was a knock at the door. And then Abe and Henry stepped inside. Both looking extra dashing in their suits, both looking extra relaxed, given the one thing they’d wanted had finally been achieved.
“Henry,” Louisa said. She stood