399. Chapter 399

Maggie’s been sending her filthy texts all. Damn. Day.

Texts about I want you sit on my face, Danvers.

Texts about Are you in your lab right now? God, I’d love to bend you over that lab bench you have and fuck you until you cum so good for me.

Texts about I’m gonna make you scream so loud tonight, Danvers.

Texts about I love you, babe. I love you so damn much.

It’s all well and good for Maggie – she’s swamped with paperwork, Alex knows, so she’s stuck in the precinct, but damn, at least her boss isn’t her telepathic father figure.

And the worst part? The most torturous part, the most wicked part?

When Alex gets home that night, Maggie acts like she hasn’t been riling Alex up all day.

She just smiles and greets her: happy, not seductive; cute, not sexy.

Like she hasn’t been making Alex drip for her all damn day.

Alex assesses Maggie’s game immediately; and immediately decides that two can play it.

She kisses her hello with no fire – with love, yes, god yes, but with no undertones, no hints of all the things she’s been fantasizing about all day – and she returns her innocent smile and she starts rambling on about some experiment or other that she’s running in the lab, and how about you, how was your day, babe?

She listens and she nods and mmhmms in all the right places, and when Maggie says she just wants to settle in for a movie because god, that paperwork was more draining than a day in the field, Alex saunters up to stand right in front of her.

“I could go for a movie too, babe,” she says, her voice caressing the term movie like it’s one of the filthiest words that’s ever crossed her lips. Her eyes are locked into Maggie’s, and she’s suppressing a smirk because Maggie’s knees are suddenly going weak and god, vengeance has never been sweeter.

Because Alex’s eyes are locked, hard, down into Maggie’s, but her fingers?

Her fingers are unbuckling Maggie’s belt, all on their own, her gaze never straying from the path between Maggie’s eyes and her lips. God, her lips.

The only sound in the apartment is the sound of Alex unbuckling Maggie’s belt, metal against fake leather against denim against detective shield, mixed with Maggie’s hitched breath and Alex’s tortuously casual tone.

“I could go for any kind of movie, really. Action.”

Eyes locked in Maggie’s, her belt successfully undone, Alex starts to pull.

Slow, steady.

She reads Maggie’s dilating pupils for the consent she needs, and she talks her way through pulling Maggie’s belt off.

Slow.

Steady.

“Sci fi.” The belt slips out of the first loop.

“Horror.” The second loop, and Maggie bites her lip.

“A western.” The loop behind her back, and Alex fights to keep herself from grinding her hips forward here and now.

“Hell, I could even go for a rom com.” Another smooth tug, and Maggie’s belt is nearly off, Alex’s gaze still searing into her eyes, her lips.

“Any kind of movie you want, Sawyer. Is what I wanna give you tonight.”

She lets Maggie’s belt clatter to the kitchen floor, and it’s the only sound that resonates in the moment before Alex slips her index fingers through Maggie’s front belt loops and pulls her hips close, pulls her hips fast, pulls her hips hard.

Maggie’s gasp and Alex’s hiss fill the slowly closing gap between their parted lips.

“Any kind of movie, Danvers?” Maggie smiles into their kiss.

“I’m also not opposed to more than one genre,” Alex rasps, and Maggie nearly swoons.

“Take me to bed, Alex,” is the last articulate thing she says – other than Alex’s first name, other than Alex’s last name, other than please babe don’t stop, other than you like it like that, babygirl?, other than I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you – all night long.