"Why do you think, asshole?" I spun around and stalked toward the elevator.
He took several quick steps and grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Look, I'm sorry, but you've got to admit, it's an obvious question."
I drew in a deep breath, though it did little to calm the rush of anger – anger that was aimed just as much at myself as at him.
"Do you think I haven't agonized over the fact I was having sex with my mom's murderer? It makes me want to puke every time I think about it." I pulled my arm from his and continued on to the elevator. "And the worst of it is, that wasn't the end of his crimes. It was just the beginning."
Jak fell in step beside me. "What else did he do?"
"Just about everything." I punched the Call button. "He was working with the sorcerer who stole the keys, and he was reading my thoughts during sex to keep up-to-date with everything we were doing to find them."
"Wow," Jak murmured. "Even I wasn't that much of a prick. At least when we were making love, I concentrated on the business at hand."
A reluctant smile touched my lips. "Oh, I don't know about that. There were definitely occasions when it seemed your thoughts were elsewhere."
"If my thoughts were elsewhere, you can bet it was because I was trying not to come. You, my dear, can sometimes make a man a little too quick on the trigger."
My smile grew. "I did notice you had a tendency to fire off a little too soon —"
"It didn't happen that often," he said, nudging me with his shoulder.
"If you say so," I murmured, amused. The elevator door opened and I stepped inside.
He followed close behind. "What floor are we heading to, and why?"
"Top floor, to what would have been Lucian's apartment. I'm looking for clues."
He punched the appropriate button. "Clues for what?"