Page 18 of Sinful Sorrow

“Squeeze my cock and cum on me, Mrs. Malone.” He slips two fingers into my mouth, pressing the pads to the top of my tongue until I bite down. “Now.”

With familiarity comes reliability. It means zero wasted time, which might come across as unromantic to those who prefer hours long snooze fests. But to a medical examiner who some people—as in, my husband and my best friend—describe as having a social disability—though I prefer to call it scheduling inflexibility and expedience—and a homicide detective hip deep in a murder investigation, not wasting time is the epitome of romance in my eyes.

Jesus. Maybe I am what they say I am.

Nonetheless, twenty minutes after stepping into the shower, we’re out again, dropping towels and selecting clothes for today.

“Fletch and Moo are coming over for breakfast this morning.” Archer grabs a fresh pair of jeans from his drawer and pushes the ancient, sticking timber closed with a thud. “He was ready to get started on our case bright and early, but considering my next two interviews are right inside this apartment, I figured we could have a soft launch for the day.”

“Soft launch.” Snickering, I select a blouse from my closet, and a pair of black pants that make my ass look fantastic, and yet, they don’t appear as though I’m trying to make my ass look fantastic. “I’m assuming I’m one of those interviews, Detective Malone. I should charge you out-of-office rates, seeing you won’t even let me have my morning to myself.”

“I just paid you your out-of-office rates.” He looks across and smirks. The glitter in his eyes and the upturn of his lips, proof he thinks I work for sexual favors.

I mean… he’s not entirely wrong, I suppose.

“I also wanna talk to Cato.”

“I was wondering when you’d make that connection.” I slip my shirt on and work on fastening the buttons. “The vic and her friends are all eighteen. They’re all Copeland U freshmen. And two of them are on the same basketball team Cato plays for. He must know them.”

“That’s what I figured. Even if he’s not attending haunted houses and screwing around with them on the weekend, I bet he still has an opinion. He was raised to observe the people surrounding him. If nothing else, he could tell us what he sees when it’s just the guys on the court.”

“Mason Morgan is a solid player,” Cato announces from the hall.

Startling me, I jump in place and half twist toward the closed door. “Cato!”

“You woke me, Doc.” He chuckles, just loud enough to be heard through the thick wood. “A kid is just trying to sleep after a late night, and instead of getting a much-needed eight hours down, he wakes to certain noises his innocent brain really shouldn’t be hearing. It’s damaging to my mental wellbeing.”

Archer looks me up and down to make sure I’m decent, then he snags a shirt from the closet and crosses the room, yanking the door open to find a smug Cato on the other side. “You didn’t hear fuck all. And if you think you did, lemme grab a corkscrew from the kitchen and take care of your memories.”

Cato’s dancing eyes swing my way. “You don’t get to be mad at me because you two are unable to keep your business quiet. I heard my name, by the way.”

“You most certainly did not.” Snarling, I turn on my heels when I finish my last button, and head to the drawers to take out a pair of socks. “I assure you. I have never, and will never?—”

“I meant just now,” he snickers. “Talking about the case. Sheesh, Mayet. What did you think I meant?”

Frustrated, I look at Archer and manage that thing married couples can do. The silent discussion, using eyes only. Though I doubt it’s only he who reads my expression when it so clearly screams, get him the hell out!

“You thought I meant you said my name while you were… Oh wow,” Cato whistles. “That’s awkward. My sister-in-law… speaking my name while she…” He shakes his head. But his smile turns into a scowl when Archer slams a palm to the boy’s chest and propels him away from our room.

“Get the fuck out.” He keeps pushing all the way to the end of the hall and stops only when the younger Malone stumbles into the living room. “You’re banned from entering that hall ever again.”

“You can’t ban me. The bathroom is down there. Using the bathroom is a basic human right.”

“Not killing you is a basic human right. Don’t force me to violate the Geneva Convention.”

Unbothered, Cato glances over his shoulder as I step into the hall and grins when our eyes meet. “I’ve said your name, Mayet.”

“Dude!” Archer smacks his brother’s face, clapping his cheek so the noise ricochets through the room and repeats in echo. “A joke’s a joke, but you take it too fuckin’ far.”

“I was kidding!” He cups his cheek and turns toward the kitchen, and yet, he giggles when a soft growl rolls along my throat. A knock at the door has him re-routing, while in front of me, Archer turns to meet my eyes. Like he’s concerned I’ll take offense to his brother’s bullshit.

“Oh, Detective Fletcher. And Stinky McStinkerson! How are you doing, little girl?”

“I’m not stinky!” Mia noisily stomps into the apartment as I wander down the hall and meet Archer at the end. Then she grins, bright and beautiful when she finds us watching. “Uncle Arch! Good morning, Uncle Arch!”

“Mia Moo Moo Fletcher!” He presses a silent kiss to my temple before spinning and catching the girl when she throws herself our way. He lifts her too high—terrifyingly high when her hair almost skims the doorframe—then crushes her to his chest and blows raspberries against her neck until she howls. “I haven’t seen you in forever! Did you turn eleven yet?”

“I’m four!” She squirms and cackles, fighting his hold and yet, clinging to his powerful frame. “Uncle Arch, I saw you yesterday. I was four then, too.”

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