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“I used the microwave.” She set the container she’d taken from the chair onto the table and pushed it toward me. “Here, have one.” She licked a chunk of something off her thumb that must have accidentally dipped into the dessert. “Before you say it, I wasn’t getting distracted by my stomach or paying more attention to my hunger instead of this case. Chocolate actually helps me focus.”

That fucking mouth.

That was my distraction.

Not what was coming out of it, but what it looked like.

The thickness of her lips. The way she licked them.

How she chewed the inside of her cheek when she feared what my response was going to be.

“Tell me how chocolate helps you focus.”

She pointed toward the container. “Try one. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?” I chuckled.

Trust wasn’t what had been built between us.

There was a brownie sitting in front of her, resting on a napkin, and she lifted it toward her mouth. “I didn’t poison them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I wasn’t worried.

I just