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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 22 hours ago

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L Lawliet x Reader pt. 24: the Billionaire and the Prostitute

Brand new chapter, just for you! Hopefully it's not too late 😭 full disclosure, I got some writer's block and honestly didn't write any of this until today, hopefully it's not absolutely terrible!

"I'm here," you announce. The door clicks behind you.

L is seated on the couch, holding a pair of cherries in front of his eyes. He doesn't look up at you, he only twists the fresh stem in his fingers. "So you are."

"Whatcha doin?" You stride over, slower than usual. As soon as you enter his space, his eyes slide to yours, tired and languid. You settle in the seat across from him.

He itches. Itches with boredom. One toe scratches the other. With you here he's sated, just a little. "I was waiting for you."

You drum your new nails on the arm of the opposing couch. They were a soft pink, with sage green lines running across in various floral patterns. "So, you have work to finish in America?"

"Are you positive you're joining me?"

For some reason, you felt your heart hop up, into your throat. The idea of affirming commitment was daunting. But you were on a bit of a "coming to terms with reality" kick, so you swallow and nod. "Yes, I'm going."

"No, I don't have work to finish."

"What? Why lie?"

"Because you wouldn't have come if you thought it was a gesture." He puts the cherries in his mouth, along with the stem.

"Is it a gesture?"

He chews, tilts his head in focus, and pulls the now knotted stem from his lips. "In a sense. But I wanted you to make the decision based on what you wanted, not my unreturned affection."

Unreturned affection. "About that, I have to..." now your own tongue was knotted.

He sets the stem on a plate, and reaches for another set of cherries. He keeps his eyes on you. Always on you. Big, doting, just-say-the-word eyes. Before, they made you sick because you couldn't understand them. You felt like they were mocking you, teasing you, holding superiority over your head like a worm on a string. And maybe they are, but that's not the reason, not the only reason. You've been looked at like meat before, like you were something to be consumed. He looks at you like that maybe 10% of the time, only at the best moments.

No, L often looks at you like you're eating him alive. Like everything you do sets his soul on fire, like you activate every single nerve on his pale flesh, like he's just a little confused because he's never been owned so wholly by another...and he couldn't be happier. He doesn't have to smile for you to know he's happy. You don't know what it is, whether it's a rolling heat or the rippling of waves, but there's a peace that sits somewhere between his cornea and his iris, a rose-colored contact lense imbedded in his line of sight.

It's what drowns you when you look at him, right in the eyes, because you can't help but feel utterly and unconditionally loved. That feeling, a feeling you were denied for what felt like always, scared you, because you liked it. A part of you always knew how you truly felt towards him, it was only now that you were accepting it.

You gnawed at its edges, clawed at it's center, tried to escape, and every time you were left with more than you could shred. Because that's what unconditional love is. More. Always more. You tried so hard to push it away, but it managed to wrap itself around you, hold you tighter the more you writhe. The only way to escape the pain of being squeezed is to relax. Accept. Return.

And now, with I have to an inch off your tongue, you couldn't do it. Not out loud. You could barely do it inside of yourself. So you didn't, like a coward.

"I have to tell you, I know what you do," you finish. "For work, I mean."

"Do you," he asks absently, spooning sugar into a teacup. He didn't sound very surprised.

"I do. I think you're a detective."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"I saw you typing about it. Some group called The Stars or something. Did you catch them?"

He stirs, the tea spinning as if it were moving on its own. "Do you watch the news?"

"...no."

He takes a sip of his tea, frowns, and spoons in another helping of sugar. "Mm, good. The news is wrought with misinformation."

"You must be very important to be so rich off of detective work."

"No, I work for free. I have wealth because I invest properly."

"So, you're a trust fund baby."

"Essentially."

That made you wonder about his parents. Do they know about his salacious activity? Are they a part of his life? Are they dead? He was fairly young to have dead parents...but, who were you to talk? You decided on a different question. "Are you famous?"

"Not in most circles."

"But you are to other detectives?"

"Mn...world leaders. Average detectives don't know of me."

"So very important."

"...Yes."

"You must have a ton of cases to work on, then."

"No. I don't take requests."

"What do you mean? Isn't that what detectives do? Solve crimes as they come?"

"Most detectives, yes. I do this work because I find it entertaining, it only makes sense that I accept cases for the same reason."

You lean back. A true detective, and apparently a big one. "Why are you telling me all of this? Isn't it supposed to be secret?"

"I don't enjoy hiding things from you. It's another one of your feats: making me feel guilt over something as natural as secrets."

"Hm..." he really did love you. You've thought it a thousand times, because it's true. You needed to tell him the truth, but after all this time hiding from it, it was a little embarrassing. What if things changed? What if you changed? You liked how it was now. Maybe, once he knows you return his affection, he'd treat you differently. Or, maybe you'd get too comfortable, and treat him differently, and he'll get bored.

"Is something the matter?"

"Oh uh, no. So, what did you want to do?"

"Nothing, really. I only wanted to see you."

You reach for the table of sweets, plucking a strawberry from a little ceramic bowl. "What does one wear to America?"

"Whatever one likes." He takes another sip of tea, this time pleased by it.

"Where in America are we going?"

"I was thinking LA, or New York. Do you have a preference?"

"I don't really know the difference."

"LA is known for its beaches, celebrities, attractions, hollywood," he lists, occupying his hands with a bon bon. "New York is known for its bustling city, Broadway, the Statue of Liberty..."

"LA sounds nice."

"LA, then."

"Which airport are we going through?"

"None of them." He bites into the chocolate, taking half, then the rest, then licking his fingers clean of the residue. "We'll be flying private."

"Private? I've never flown private...or, at all, really..."

"I find it less distracting. Not too many people or smells."

"What do I expect?"

"any number of things. It's not particularly dangerous, but the flight will be long."

You take a bite of your strawberry. "How long?"

"About twelve hours."

"Twelve hours??" What could you possibly do for 12 hours?

He shrugs, his gaze briefly flicking to your lips as you lick them clean of juice. He takes a strawberry of his own. "You'll be able to sleep, eat, watch a movie."

"Will there be champagne, like in the movies?"

He practically swallows the strawberry whole, leaving only the leaves and stem behind. "There can be. Though you get drunk faster, one drink in the air equals three on land as they say."

"Okay...well, have you been to LA?"

"I have."

"How is it?"

He knows how to answer this question now, what will make you happy is hearing whether or not it lives up to its namesake, not his personal opinion that it's rather unremarkable, and rather hot in the summer. "There are many high-end areas for shopping and eating, tourist areas, beaches, and amusement parks."

"Sounds like a beach city," you titter.

"Essentially. Do you have any opinions on hotels?"

"No...although, I might like a pool, and I want to go to the beach."

"I assume you'll want seperate rooms." He didn't look or sound offended by your assumed choice...but you know what he'd rather.

Now was your chance to confess, say something that signals your...return. Lingering in what could happen will only ruin what you could have right now, it's best to give in, tell him the truth. You've been practically torturing him for ages, you just had to say it! Say, "L, I lo-"

"Seperate is fine."

Every time you chicken out, you swear you can hear your mother clicking her tongue in disapproval. This is the closest you've felt to her, and it's over making the exact same mistake she made. Fuck.

"Good. I'll book our stay tonight, at a hotel with a pool on the beachside."

"Wait, what about the cats? Can they still come?"

He takes another sip of his tea, makes an effortful decision between a biscoff cookie and a macaron, and finally responds. "There should be a hotel with accommodations for pets. If not, I'd be more than happy to pay for their stay at a petcare facility."

"...thank you, L. For going through all this effort for me."

He dips his cookie in his tea, eyes faltering to his lap. It was that tone that did it, that made his very bones relax with bliss. A peaceful, sweet, grateful tone. "Thank you, for joining me."

Maybe you couldn't say it yet, but you hoped your words conveyed just a little of it. Enough to maybe get the message across. The message being, of course...that you love him back. L, I love you. It shouldn't be so hard to say, yet you choke every time.

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 1 month ago

Note

Hii! I really like your writing and I was wondering if you could do like something along the lines of reader being a suspect of a case he is currently investigating (it doesn't have to be the Kira case) and he keeps her under surveillance, like what he did with Light in the Yotsuba arc. It could like showcase how L and reader have to adapt to certain situations (showering, changing, sleeping ect). Err uhhh yeah! I don't know if that makes any sense. It could be like dairy entries or just third person. Fluff or smutt is a-ok! (Idk if I can request that this is my first time asking on Tumblr) Thank you! :D

sorry this took so long to get to, I liked it so much I made it a little longer!

Warnings: reader is a little handsy, brief oral, PinV

L has noticed (Y/n)'s numerous attempts to get him in bed with her. He can't say he minds.

She's a leading suspect in a...moderately important investigation: an American crime ring, suspected to be responsible for the laundering of millions of dollars, distribution of drugs and weaponry, and the deaths of at least 20 victims.

L was fairly sure that (Y/n)'s father was the head of it all, but he refused to confess. His alibis were frustratingly airtight, and nobody else would budge in their corroboration. Thus, L would detain what was most important to him, his daughter, as both a suspect and collateral for two months. His hope was that he could convince the criminal to confess, either by threatening her incarceration, or finding better evidence when locked up with her.

So, here he was, linked to her by a three-foot chain.

She was less than pleased, clearly, but took it in stride. "Anything to prove dad's innocent," she nodded, teary-eyed and quivering. It was quite convincing, he almost believed it...until he caught the faint scent of onions on her fingers moments later.

He said nothing about his observation, simply clasped one cuff to her hand, and the other to his.

now, he had her seated across from him, in his personal hotel suite. "I can't allow any cellphones or personal devices...you understand, of course. Please hand them over now."

She scoffed and grumbled, tossing over her phone.

He gave her an expectant look.

More grumbling, with the addition of an MP3 player, burner phone, and iPod.

"Your family has no involvement in any criminal activity...but you have a burner phone?"

She smiled. "I use it to call guys I like to hook up with. Can't have dad knowing about that."

"You're an adult. You still have to follow your father's rules of modesty?"

"I mean, I live with him, and he pays for all my stuff, so...gotta follow his rules."

He nods. He didn't believe her story, not completely, but he would accept her answers.

meanwhile, she was having to figure out getting the hell out of here without being caught. This guy was a world-renowned super genius, and she was a barely 20 something living off her dad's crime ring. She was crafty, sure, but not 4D chess level smart, not like him.

So, that raised the question of how to get on his good side, maybe even convince him to let her go. What did she know about him? He was smart...weird looking...dressed like a bum...probably a virgin-

Bingo.

Super genius or not, he was still a fuckless nerd, and she ate fuckless nerds for breakfast. There was a reason she got the chess club to do her homework on a rotating system for all of high school, and it wasn't because she asked nicely.

she smiled coyly, and brought her legs up to curl up on the couch, a...tasteful amount of thigh showing now that her mini-skirt rode up even higher. He didn't look down, his eyes locked on her face. Annoying.

"So...what about stuff like...showering?" Her voice had dropped to a noticeably more intimate tone, slow and careful. Like she was luring him in.

"The shower has an opaque curtain, and the toilet makes a practical chair when the lid is down."

He wants her to sit on the toilet while he showers? He wants to sit on the toilet while she showers? She has to hold back the biggest eye-roll.

"Oh, alright...what about getting dressed?"

"I've acquired a changing screen, for your privacy and mine."

"Kay...so, where do I keep my clothes?"

"In the closet."

"With all of your clothes? What about my...intimates?"

He shrugs. "Use a drawer."

Not even a pause, not so much as a stutter at the mention of her underwear. "Okay. Well. Now what?"

He pauses. "Do you enjoy cake?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) spends the first 24 hours reading or watching over L's shoulder as he works, as well as gorging herself on whatever treats he's eating. She has yet to seduce him, at least not to her knowledge. He doesn't do a ton, just sits there and atrophies for hours upon end as he works. She had to shower that night, and drag him away from his little set up to do so.

"What will you do when I take off my clothes?"

She tries to pull him farther into the bathroom, but he only lifts his limp arm at her tugging, not moving from his place at the doorframe.

"I'll turn around. You have plenty of space to change now."

"I thought you were going to sit on the toilet," she teases, the chains rattling as she pulled with more urgency. He padded forward, and shut the door behind him. His reluctance was a good sign for her, it meant he was nervous.

"I will." He turns around, and she begins to strip. She made a point to drop her clothes from a higher distance, so the fabric would make more sound hitting the floor.

She unclasps her hot pink bra, and accidentally tosses it in his direction. It hits the floor, and slides to the tile beside his feet. "Oops."

L looks down, but doesn't comment or react.

(Y/n) pulls the shower curtain back, and turns on the water. The water heats up quickly, the perfect temperature to make some nice steam. "You can't see me through the mirror, can you?"

He was in the middle of squatting on the toilet, faced to the wall. "Not at all. You're safe to do what you need to."

She bites her lip. He was so boring. "Mm...I don't care if you see me, anyway."

L, once again, makes no reaction. He knew what she was doing. It was quite original, he had to admit he's never been flirted with before, but her acting needed work. It was rather exaggerated, like that of a cheap porno.

Her idle humming played in the background of his thoughts, while he considered the purpose of her playfulness. Did she realize he wouldn't let her out, even if she did manage to seduce him? Or...was this a way of getting information about her father's case? He had to be careful. He glanced to the bra on the floor. Even if she wasn't winning any Oscar's, she was still pretty. Pretty, and with soap that smelled like cupcakes. This might be more difficult than he anticipated...

The curtain rod squealed against the metal hooks as she pushed the fabric to the side. She stepped out, one pedicured foot at a time, and wrapped herself in a towel. "Alright. Your turn."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, covered with nothing but thin polyester. "I won't be showering tonight."

She crinkled her nose, and stepped closer. "What do you mean? Do you shower in the mornings?"

"No. Watari has a device made specifically for me to clean with."

"A device? Like...what kind?"

"...like a washing machine."

She cracks a grin, and steps closer. "You should try a real shower. They can be nice, like standing in the rain."

"I have no interest in that."

her gaze travels from his eyes, to his lips, to his chest, and before he knows it she's a hairsbreadth away from him. "Well...if you ever want to learn-" her hand lands gently on his chest, manicured nails against his shirt- "I'd be happy to help you."

He looks down at her. She looks up at him. He carefully plucks her hand from him. "That won't be necessary."

She sighs, and steps to the counter. "Just a suggestion."

He stands there, and watches with boredom as she goes about her nightly routine. So much work. He brushes his teeth while he's there.

When they're both done, she steps away, ready to change into her pajamas.

He has no choice but to follow her. She gathers some clothes from the dresser, and walks to the divider working as a changing room. He has to stand there, and wait for her to finish. The towel gets tossed up on the top of the divider, and within minutes she's slinking out, drapped in a tiny silk slip.

L makes no reaction to her clothing choice.

"I hope this is alright. I usually sleep in the nude."

"It's better than nothing. There are two seperate beds, you can pick whichever one you like the most."

Better than nothing? That's it? "Alright...I want the one closest to the window."

He nods, and guides you to the beds, both set with matching comforters, nightstands, lamps, and pillows. They were less than a foot apart, it wasn't worth it to have two beds in her opinion.

She settles in by the window, and he takes a laptop from his nightstand. He seats himself on one of the pillows, and boots up the device to keep working.

"You're not going to sleep?"

"I don't need to."

That made her next plan slightly harder, but she could deal with it. After about thirty minutes of laying still, the AC cuts on. Hotel ACs always have a big vent by the window.

"L...I'm cold..."

"There are blankets in the closet."

"...It's too dark in here, I can't sleep. Do you think I could-"

"There's a lamp next to you. It has a dimmer, if it's too bright."

"...I can't sleep in new places, could I please lay with you? Just for tonight?"

"I don't see how that would help."

"Please?"

He sighs. "I suppose."

She jumps out of bed, and walks the one step it takes to get to his bed. He scoots over, and as she lays down, the chains settle between them. "Thank you."

He doesn't answer, he just keeps working. He was tough to crack.

She sighs and tosses and turns, but he's patient with her. Eventually, she actually does fall asleep.

And unbeknownst to her, has a sex dream.

At first, L thinks she must be pretending. Pretending to whine and mewl in the back of her throat as he hips shift. But he quickly realizes that's not the case, when he glances over to see her expression. It's a little too realistic for her crummy acting.

He stares for far too long, long enough for his computer to automatically shut off, simply watching her movements. The gentle squeeze of her thighs. The parting of her lips. The soft whimpering. He mindlessly leaned inward. He only snaps out of it when he can feel her breath on his cheek.

With a deep, steeling breath, he powers his computer back on. As he looks to the keys to type in his password, he catches of glimpse of something. That was odd...and a little concerning.

He hasn't had a real boner since he was a teen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the next day goes about as slow as the last, the same routine. When (Y/n) gets up, she doesn't bother changing out of her slip, she'd be staying in anyway. She does, however, take the time to fix her hair. She has a man to catch, after all.

It was so boring, sitting next to him without any phone or music. It made her restless.

"So...is this something you do often? Chain the daughters of your suspects to you?"

"No." He stirs his tea, and takes a sip. "Many have never even seen my face. You should feel privileged."

"Sitting here with nothing to do doesn't feel like a privilege. You don't do anything other than work?"

"I do plenty of other things. I eat, I use the restroom-"

"No but, what about for fun?"

"This is my fun."

She rolls her eyes. "What about when you were younger? When you weren't working?"

"...I've always worked."

"Always???"

"Since I was a child. I've taken small interests in things now and again, but this has been the only thing that's sustained."

"I guess that makes sense. Must be difficult to entertain someone so smart."

He shrugs.

"Well...what about physical stuff? Have you done any of that?"

"I don't follow."

"Like...sex. have you ever had sex?"

A choppy segue. "No. Its purposes don't suit me."

"You've never wanted to try it?"

He takes a fork full of chocolate cake, and stuffs his face with it. "Mn, when I was younger, perhaps. After further investigation it wasn't worth exploring."

"Maybe that's 'cause you've never had the chance."

"I don't think so." He's tired of this conversation, and he'd like to get back to work.

She pouts. "You don't have a TV or anything I can watch?"

She really was a foil to his work. Maybe that was her goal, to annoy him into making no progress. He picks up the landline by the couch. "Please send up a personal television."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that she was sated with the TV like a toddler, he could work in peace, and the rest of the day went smoothly. It wasn't until the shower that something arose. It went as usual at first, (Y/n) goes first, L sits on the toilet. When she got out, she stared at his back for a moment.

"Are you going to shower tonight?"

"As I said, I don't shower as the average person does." She was right though, he did need one. He hated the feeling of sebum in his hair and on his face. "I'll have to use-"

"Wait." She smiles. "How are you gonna use that thing if we're chained together?"

He paused. He hadn't thought of that. How had he not thought of that?

"My offer still stands," she teased.

"...no. I can do it myself." He stands, and they swap places.

She doesn't sit like he does, meaning she gets to face the curtain. How fun.

L finds showering to be a straightforward process, though not nearly as efficient as his machine. Soap, make bubbles, rinse, do it again. Tedious. By the time he was done, she was thoroughly bored.

Bored, until he stepped out. He had grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips...and that was it.

He was skinny, of course, but there was this sort of muscle underneath...strong core, must be from how he sits...and there was this whispy black happy trail peaking out from above the towel. Dear god.

He saw how she looked at him. He assumed that it was another act...though she must be getting better at it.

The two of them left the bathroom to get dressed, her before him. She put on another silk slip, and he wore...basically the same thing, but with sweatpants instead of jeans.

"Sleeping tonight?"

"I will."

She smiles. "Can I please sleep with you again?"

He wants to say no...he should say no. "Fine."

the two settle in, back to back.

30 minutes later, when she's sure he thinks she's asleep, she rolls onto her other side, nuzzling her face into the back of his neck. Simple, innocent. Can't blame her, she's asleep.

L knows what's happening. He can't say it doesn't feel nice, that it doesn't send tingles up his spine, but it's still a ploy. He won't say anything. No matter what she does, no reaction will only lead to boredom, and eventual sleep on her part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been several more days, and (Y/n) can't help but be pissed. They were settled into bed for the night, her sleeping by him now a habit, and she was silently fuming. Everything she's thrown at him, the dreamy glances, the flirtatious remarks, her lacy underwear: all of it was ineffective. She feared the worst.

It couldn't be.

Was he...gay?

That was the only possible explanation for his disinterest!

"What," he asks lowly.

She's been staring for the past few minutes.

"Are you..."

He waits.

"Are you gay?"

He blinks. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you don't- you're not-" how does she explain this without giving everything away?

"Because I'm not fawning over you?"

He was annoyingly right. "Well- yeah! I mean, look at me!"

"Attraction is subjective."

"Pfft- not when you look like this." She gestures vaguely to her body.

...she was annoyingly right. "Perhaps I am gay."

She gives him a sidelong glance. He didn't sound very convinced of himself. "...no you're not."

"What does it matter, if I am or am not attracted to you? It won't change anything."

"Well, I think you're attractive."

"That's irrelevant."

"I think you are attracted to me. I think you're just trying to cover it all up, because you think I'm a criminal, and you're not supposed to be attracted to criminals. I think you want to fuck m-"

His lips crash onto hers, one of his big hands holding the nape of her neck to keep her against him. It's not very sensual, but it is passionate, incredibly so. When he finally pulls away, she's completely silent. "There. Is that all you needed?"

She stares at him. He stares at her.

She pounces, enrapturing his lips with hot, fervent kisses. He does nothing to stop her. His arm slides up her back, into the dip of the arch as she clambers into his lap.

It's a needy mess as they practically rip the clothes off of each other, first his shirt, then her slip, then his pants.

He leans forward, pressing her against his knees as he devours her neck.

He can feel her hips grinding hungrily against his, the growing amor an air that permeates and arouses.

She hooks two fingers in the band of his boxers. What were we working with?

She yanks them down, and...

Dear. Lord.

Long, veiny, blush pink at the mushroom tip. Oozing semi-translucent pre. That whispy black happy trail, leading to heavy balls.

She tentatively wraps a hand around the length, and with the way his hips involuntarily buck into her grip, craving something tighter and wetter, it's a clear sign of his lack of experience.

Her strokes were slow, teasing, her manicured nails standing out against the pale backdrop of his dick. He didn't moan or squirm, he barely made an expression. But his need was in his eyes. The way he watched her every movement, the drag of her now pre-cum covered hand as it pumped him.

Just as it started to get good, she released him. He didn't look away from his own member, watching as he twitched and oozed. It had been a while since he saw himself like that.

He only looked up when he felt her shift between his fingers, rising on her knees to pull down her panties. She was right in front of his face, the black lace slowly removed to reveal something that smelt obscenely sweet. She looked delicious, like she's plated up just for him. He wondered how...

As she got the panties halfway down her thighs, she felt something slither against her clit, a swirl of pleasure followed by confusion.

Looking down, she realized L had leaned in, and taken a taste of her by sliding his tongue through her folds. "Have you ever done this before?" She had to be sure...he was a little too good at this.

He looked up at her, and brought his hands to her bare hips to hold her still. "No."

With no reaction from her greater than a nod, he decided to test the waters even further. He locked his lips around her clit to give a slow but firm probing of his tongue. At the sound of her moaning, he knew he had done something right.

Meanwhile, as he curiously licked and suckled, she did her best to focus on finally getting her panties off. She had to eventually unsaddle from his lap, to his moderate disappointment, and shove them off her calves onto the floor.

When she got back into his lap, she didn't stand on her knees, so he could no longer taste-test. Thankfully, she was more than happy to kiss him sloppy as a replacement. He can barely focus with how her hand comes to adjust him, or how his tip slowly presses into the heat of her wet cunt.

She wastes no time taking him all the way in, the stretch maddeningly perfect, the way he brushes against her cervix nothing less than addicting.

"Mn...L," she gasps, setting a ruthless, needy pace that has him clutching her hips, the chain between them rattling.

The bounce of her tits, the heat of her skin, the rounded sounds of her moans: it was thoughtlessly addicting, carnal and needy in a way his other past times weren't.

He could get used to this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up the next morning, sore and disoriented. She barely knew up from down. Probably because she was laying upside-down.

L might be the best she's ever had...and God, was he resilient. Round after round after round, like it was nothing. She glanced to the spot beside her. He was curled up, sound asleep. Sort of...cute.

If he weren't the detective out to get her father, she might consider a relationship with him.

She scanned his face, serene and softly snoring, hair still stuck to his forehead with a light sweat.

they did all of that in one night.

How much could they get done in two months?

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