Page 85 of Speak of the Devil

“Blue.”

“Your favorite book?”

“Not original, butPride and Prejudice.”

“Movie?” He rests his chin on my leg while he looks up at me with a grin.

“Gladiator.”

A quick pop of his eyes makes me smile. “That’s unexpected.”

I shrug. “What can I say? I like to keep people on their toes.”

“Do I want to know who your favorite band is?” He laughs. “My ego can’t take a blow right now.”

I cup his face and slide farther under him. He lifts, taking me in his arms and balancing above me. “Any band you’re in.” We kiss. It’s gentle and slow, more appreciative in the caressing pressure that I know will lead to more later. Looking into his eyes as he hovers over me, I say, “I don’t want to erase our past. I want us defined in the good, the here, and now, and how it feels this time around.”

“I want that, too. I’m glad you shared your feelings. I always want that with you.”

With his erection still pressed against me, I could look into his eyes for the rest of my life and never tire of them. The color, the lines at the corners, the way they express pure happiness when looking into mine. “We’re still married,” I add like we’re trading one for the other. I know we’re not, but it’s not bad to need the reminder.

“We are,” he says with a smile growing before my eyes. “We never did figure out how, though.”

“Well, Roberta blew my theory.”

He laughs gently. “Good old Roberta.”

I’ve reviewed it a million times and still can’t figure out how our signatures are on that marriage license. “If it wasn’t an accident, how are we married? It makes no sense.”

The timer goes off again. He pushes up to stand, grumbling, “Fucking hell.” Bending down, he places a kiss on my lips. “This spot is mine later.”

“Which spot?” I touch my lips, dragging my fingertip across the bottom, then dipping my tongue to slide along the corner. “This spot?” Lowering my hand, I touch my neck. “Or this one?”All the spots populate my thoughts, addicted to watching his eyes darken as he takes me in. Slipping my hand even lower between my breasts, I ask, “Maybe you meant this?—?”

“All of you, babe. I want all of you.”

“I’m already yours.” Along with my heart. I want to tell him I always have been, but nothing about that indicates or respects my own demand of going slow.

The timer goes off again as a reminder, and he throws his arms into the air. “This is why I don’t fucking cook.”

“Because it gets in the way of sex?”

Turning back, he cocks a brow. “That’s exactly why.” I sit up, enjoying the view of his ass, when he pulls the dish out of the oven. I like the feel of it even better.

I fall back with my arms above my head. Why am I torturing myself with slow when I want him so much? And then my stomach growls, so I get up and pull plates from the cabinet.

“Just gone ten,”he answers my question about the time.

Tightening the blanket around my shoulders, I sit back in the Adirondack chair, loving the view of the moon reflecting off the lake. “Do we stick to the agenda and go to bed early orrrrr . . .”

“Toss it. I’m not ready to go in.”

“Me either.” I sip my hot tea, feeling more relaxed than I have in forever. I reach over and slip my hand on top of his, our fingers folding together like we do this all the time. “Thank you for bringing me here.” A light laugh rumbles through me. “Legally coerced, or whatever we’re calling it. I’m glad I’m here.” I lean forward, meeting our bonded hands and kissing his knuckles.

“Legally coerced sounds better than extorted into a getaway with me.”

“However we got here, I’m glad we did.” Three kisses are placed before I lean back and notice the tattoo on his forearm again. “I can’t figure out the design of your tattoo. You didn’t have it last year.”

He lifts our hands, twisting our arms so he can get a better look as if he needs to see it for proof of existence. A leisurely loll of his head to the side has his eyes locking on mine. A few beers and a long drive today mixed with the emotions and physical intensity we share hang his lids lower and have me reconsidering sleep soon. As if he knew that would be the case when he created the itinerary.

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