Page 36 of Deep Feelings & Shallow Graves

“It’s you. You’ve got me all twitchy,” I blurt. “I usually plan better. Do it at my place. On date four. I try to give them four.”

Why the fuck am I confessing this? To a cop, no less?

He picks up a few more things. “Don’t bring that body home,” he says like he’s reminding me to grab milk. “We’re detailing your SUV tomorrow.”

“You’re covering for me. That cake was code, right? ‘Enjoy dessert, I’m in for accessory-after-the-fact’?” I meet his eyes. “It was delicious. I already ate it.” Why am I flirting like a guilt-ridden raccoon in a bakery dumpster?

His thumb strokes under my ear like he’s scolding a cat that just knocked over a murder scene. “You can’t be this sloppy, Jennifer. That’s what the phone was for. Subtle warning. Less blood. Be more careful.”

God, he’s tall. That voice. That touch. We absolutely cannot make out at a crime scene while Derik cools like leftover meatloaf in a discount rug from Craigslist.

I stare up at him, filthy and feral and halfway in love. “We shouldn’t kiss at a crime scene,” I say.

Carson looks at me like I just cracked open in front of him. Like I’m something holy and horrifying all at once.

“I’ve got it,” I say, voice sharp. “You should go. You’ve done enough.”

I don’t mean it. I think I want him to stay. Or maybe I just want to see if he will.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He tilts my face up before I can react, before I can think. Then he kisses me.

No hesitation. No asking. No build-up. Just full-on mouth-to-mouth annihilation.

I swear my knees go slack. His other hand braces the back of my neck like he knew I’d fall. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s messy. Ungraceful. A little dangerous. His teeth graze mine, like he wants to devour the doubt right out of my throat. I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows it whole.

I grab his shirt like I need him to keep doing it. Like stopping would be worse than everything that led me here.

I think I make a sound, low and startled, but he doesn’t give me space to figure it out. He kisses me deeper, like maybe if he kisses hard enough, long enough, this whole day won’t exist.

When he finally pulls back, I don’t breathe. I can’t.

His forehead rests against mine, his hand still holding my neck.

My lips are buzzing. My body’s trying to reboot. “What…” I whisper, because it’s all I’ve got. “What the hell was that?”

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me like I’m something precious. Like I’m already his.

“Carson,” I say, keeping my voice steady, even though my knees haven’t stopped buzzing. “I need to make a call. Handle the rug situation. Can we talk about… whatever that was, tomorrow?”

He straightens. His eyes sweep over the room again, cautious, calculating. “Did I misread you?” he asks, voice low. “I’m not like them.”

“I know,” I say. “If I thought you were, I’d have stabbed you the second you kissed me.”

That makes him pause.

“But,” I add, letting it hang just long enough to watch his jaw tighten, “I think I’d like you to do it again. Preferably somewhere that doesn’t reek of washed-up manchild and murder.”

He walks me to my car like a perfect gentleman. Like we didn’t just roll up Derik and wipe the blood off the floors.

“I’ve got this breakfast… date-thing. Kind of. Can I call you after?” I ask. “It’s not a rug situation. He’s a nice guy.”

“I’d like that,” he says.

I watch him walk away.

Does this count as a date? I don’t think so. But there was a kiss.

Chapter Fourteen

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