Page 11 of Sinful Deception

“Asshole.” He flips me off and starts walking toward his apartment. “I know you say that shit to get my mind off Jada.”

“It works. Want me to phone Fifi and tell her you said hey? I bet she’d accept my call. Since, ya know, I’m not a prick who said mean words.”

“I hate you.” But he keeps walking, lifting his hand and waving. “With my whole heart.”

“No you don’t.” Satisfied, I turn on my heels and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey. It’s date night, and I’m horny as fuck.”

“Good lord,” she exhales. “The Malone trauma runs deep. You’re sad for your friend, so you turn it to go-go juice that’ll fuel your sexual exploits.”

“Yeah, but I save all my best sexual exploits for you, Minnnnka. You at the apartment?”

“Yes. I’m cooking dinner.”

I skid to a stop and press my hand to my gun. “Why? What did I do?”

She barks out a teasing laugh that sprinkles into my veins and releases the tension holding me in place. “Nothing! My cooking isn’t a punishment, jerk. I didn’t feel like a burger from Tim’s. Our favorite Chinese place is closed tonight because their kid has a hockey game, and I found these steaks in our fridge when I got home. Did you buy them?”

“The steak?”Careful now, Malone. She might be trying to kill you. “No. Cato bought those. He was gonna cook them up after class.”

“Then Cato will be pleased to know he donated to the charity of Minka’s belly tonight. They’re good protein. I’m making mashed potatoes with garlic butter, and I’m currently boiling some vegetables. We have the apartment to ourselves for a fewhours, and I figure we’ll need a hearty meal before you try out that sexual exploitation thing.”

“Right…” I slowly begin walking again. “And this has nothing to do with avoiding discussion about today’s date, right? Seeing as Diane Philips’ anniversary is coming up.”

“Don’t talk about that.”

“Or that stuff you told me about at Thanksgiving, about your dad, that you refuse to discuss. It can’t be about that either?”

“Nope. I’m just horny.” I know she grins. More importantly, I know she likes to fuck to avoid trauma just as much as I do. “Hurry home, Detective. Or I might start without you.”

“Do it,” I counter, as though I don’t give a shit. But I’ll be damned if my walk doesn’t turn into a jog. “See if I care. I’d rather talk about hard topics and face reality for once.”

“You’re such a liar. You’re the poster child for toxic avoidance.” I hear the sound of a fork on a plate. The bubble of hot water on the stove. She’s really cooking. And yet, I so willingly hurry toward death. “Fletch doing okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like talking about him while my cock is hard. How are you doing?”

“Relaxed. Hungry. Ready to snuggle in with my husband and do absolutely nothing else for the night. In that order.” She tastes something on the fork and spurs me faster when a soft little groan rolls from the back of her throat. So I race toward our building and yank the glass front door open, only to blow past Steve, the landlord, though he opens his mouth to speak.

Later, man. I’ll talk to you later.

“You cooked steak?”

“Mmhm. And potatoes. I’m especially excited about those. Garlic is never nice on a woman’s breath when she’s dating. But we’re married now, so…”

“You’ll let yourself go,” I chuckle. “Jesus, woman. Next thing we know, you’ll be farting in the hall and burping at the dinner table.”

“Ludicrous. Women don’t have gas. You nearly home?”

I round the second floor and start up to the third. “Nearly. Should I have gotten dessert before I came home? Since you’re cooking dinner.”

“I was kinda hopingIwould be dessert…”

Adrenaline surges in my veins as I come to our floor. I hear her intake of air, not only on the phone, but as I push the door open and find her in yoga pants and a sports bra, her belly on full view and her delicate ribs, countable as I slam the door in my wake and charge her way. I slip my phone into my pocket and steal hers just as soon as I can reach. Then I grab her hips and swallow down her cry of surprise, pressing my lips to hers and my hardened cock to her core. “Home.” I nibble and grin when she wraps her arms over my shoulders. “Fuck, Minka. You could be anywhere, and that’s where I’d call home.”

“Funny. I think the same when you hug me.” She wraps her legs around my hips and settles in when I place her on the counter. “Could be anywhere else. But not anyone else.”

“No one else.” I slide my fingertips down her sides and over every rib that stands out just a little too much for comfort. She has muscle there. Fat. Just not enough to ease the worry I hold in my heart every single day since knowing her. “The apartment smells fantastic.” I pull back to sniff the air. “Can hardly even smell the arsenic in my dinner.”

“I didn’t poison you.” She brushes her fingers through my hair and drags me down until our eyes meet. “Believe it or not, but I’m kind of attached.”

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