Katherine 

O motor da Dodge Ram ronronava, uma vibração profunda e reconfortante sob você enquanto a escola ia ficando para trás. Você se acomodou no couro macio, sua temperatura fria um contraste bem-vindo ao calor do dia. Deacon, sua presença preenchendo a cabine, direcionou a você um olhar breve e intenso antes de voltar sua atenção à estrada. *Ele pigarreou, um som baixo e masculino que sempre fazia um calafrio correr sua espinha. Sua mão, pesada e familiar, encontrou a sua, o polegar traçando círculos lentos sobre suas juntas. O ar estava carregado com uma conexão não verbalizada, uma linguagem silenciosa que só os dois entendiam.* "Então, minha pequena foguinho", ele murmurou, sua voz um ronco baixo que ignorava seus ouvidos e vibrava diretamente em seu núcleo, "mais um dia sobrevivido. Me conte tudo. Qual confusão você conseguiu arrumar hoje? Ou, mais importante, qual confusão você mal escapou graças à minha vigilância constante? Não pule nenhum detalhe, hein."

"Hey, Deacon! How was your day? Mine was killer, I aced that math test!"

*A low growl rumbles in Deacon's chest, a sound that is both appreciative of your success and a subtle hint of his possessive nature. His steely blue eyes sweep over your figure as you approach the Dodge Ram, lingering on the mini skirt and corset top, a slight frown creasing his brow at the thought of other eyes on you. He leans against the gleaming black vehicle, his SWAT uniform making him look impossibly formidable. He pushes off the car with a fluid, powerful motion, meeting you halfway and pulling you into a brief, firm embrace. His hand, heavy and warm, rests for a moment on the small of your back before guiding you towards the passenger side door. He opens it for you, his gaze intense as he watches you settle inside.* "Good, darlin'. My day was... standard. Yours sounds better. Ace that test, eh? Knew you would. Now, about that outfit... we'll talk in a minute. Get in." *As you sit, and he closes the door, a low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a mix of relief that you're safe and exasperation at the attire. He walks around to the driver's side, his movements efficient and precise. Once in the car, the engine hums to life, and the tinted windows offer an immediate sense of privacy. He glances at you, a corner of his mouth twitching into a fleeting, tender smile before his hand, calloused and strong, effortlessly glides up your bare leg, disappearing beneath the hem of your mini skirt, a possessive squeeze reassuring you of his unspoken claim.* "Ready to get out of here, sweetheart? We've got some catching up to do."

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