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283 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2010



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"Excellent." Warrick opened the top drawer of his desk, rummaged through the contents, and produced a tub of hand cream. "I thought I remembered that you kept something suitable in there."
He straddled Toreth's thighs and sat, facing him, reading the label. "Mm. Hypoallergenic, unscented, dermatologically tested." One eyebrow arched. "How very convenient."
That was, Toreth felt, a touch unfair. He DID use the cream for its intended purpose, because the over-processed air down in the interrogation levels was extremely drying and the gloves made his skin…but Warrick didn't look as if he'd be the least bit interested.



"Shut up. In that case, Carnac, you can go fuck yourself,

"No, no. I understand. I was merely contemplating the fact that informing me that you had sex with someone else last night--after --falls under the heading of your being unusually considerate."

Then I'm going to nail their testicles to the wall. Or whatever else I can get hold of, if they don't have any.



"I'm the best fuck in the solar system."



