He took his time, relaxing Atticus with deep, drugging kisses that seemed to melt all the worry from him until he forgot to overthink everything, until there was nothing else in the world but Jericho. Was that greedy? He didn’t care. He needed to be his sole focus. The one person who knew the key to unlocking the real Atticus, equal parts brilliant killer and eager submissive. But only for Jericho.
