“So, would you say your stress levels are doin’ okay this week, then? No trouble sleeping?” I work my lower lip between my teeth, craving another quick fix. “I, uh, think I might have a little trouble, actually. Tonight?” His lips curl into a smirk. “Hm, and I might have a remedy.” “Nine o’clock, Becker. Don’t be late.” He leans in close, breath hot against my ear. “Wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it.”
