Page 49 of Sinful Deception

“So clean it tomorrow.” He pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, dragging me closer until our lips brush together. “Stay in bed tonight. It’s a far superior plan.”

“And if it’s not work? Could be Felix or Micah. Or worse,” I add, when he opens his mouth to argue, “could be Fletch. Your brothers could call each other if we ignore them, but if it’s Fletch?—”

“He’d call my phone. Not yours.” He nibbles on my bottom lip. “You find it difficult to lie in bed and do nothing when the rest of the world is still moving outside of us. You can switch your brain off for a short time. An hour, tops. But then it all comes crashing back. You become antsy, and you’re revving to go.”

“I can’t rest if my brain is noisy.” The call ends momentarily, only to start again immediately after. So I push off Archer’s chest and twist to find something to wear, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me around again until his eyes are all I see. Not the tattoos covering his chest, and not the scars hidden between. Not his broad shoulders, or dark hair, or even the stubble on his chin, or the chain hung around his neck with his wedding ring held permanently close to his heart.

I see only his emerald stare and the promise in them every time he looks at me. “What?”

“We didn’t take things too far, did we?” Adjusting on the bed and resting his back against the headboard, he pulls me around to study my ass. It stings when the cold air touches it, which means he left his handprint and a reminder that I belong to him.

But I smile, because I know he needs it. “We’re okay.”

“It was just a game, right? When you said to wait, but I didn’t. And when I said I would choke you out and fuck you while you were uncon?—”

“It was a game.” I lean closer and nibble on his lips. “Even when I gave you permission to do so much more, you made sure I was safe and unharmed.”

“I slammed you against the wall.”

My body warms all over at the memory. “It didn’t hurt. And you gave me exactly what I asked for. More importantly, I knew all along that you would maintain control and do things you knew wouldn’t cause actual, lasting harm. Pinning me to the wall, while I used my hands to absorb the impact, isn’t the sameas throwing me to the wall headfirst. Tossing me to the bed isn’t the same as slamming me to the floor.” I slide my hands along his wrist and press a kiss to the top. “We’re okay. I promise. You know me well enough now to know that if I wasn’t happy, I’d tell you.”

“I’m counting on it.” He cups my cheek and brings me up until our lips feather together. “I love you more than I love my own sanity. So I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you happy, Minnnka. If you’re ever lonely or in need of attention, or if I’ve upset you and I don’t realize right away, I need you to speak up so I can make it better.”

“I will. We made promises for forever, remember? I’m not living in an unhappy marriage for the next eighty years. Which means we fight to make it happy, or I’ll just put poison in your dinner and call it a day.”

He releases me, just like I knew he would, and drapes his arm over his eyes, his chest bouncing with soft laughter. “It’s cute that everyone outside of us would consider that a joke. But I know better.”

“You definitely do.” I turn and search for pants, my phone ringing out again, but my text alert dinging to let me know my caller has something important to say. I don’t feel like squeezing into anything that fitsmeproperly. I want more space. More comfort. So I go to Archer’s drawers and tug out a pair of gray sweatpants with Copeland City PD stamped along the leg.

From his time in the academy, maybe? I’m not sure.

I stab one leg into the pants, and then the other, before I pull the fabric up and yank the old knot free so I can pull it tight and knot it again to fit me. “I think it’s cute that you know the stakes.” I peek over my shoulder to find him watching me from beneath his arm, his lips curled into a devious grin and his eyes plastered securely on my bare breasts. “I love you,” I explain, “and you love me. Neither of us will go without theother, and neither will intentionally bring harm or hurt feelings into our relationship. Butifsomething were to happen that we can’t work through, I’m not interested in an amicable divorce and a pleasant meeting between lawyers to discuss who gets to keep the coffee machine. I’ll simply lace your dinner. Because I’d rather you were dead than fucking some other woman the way you fucked me tonight.”

“I save all of me for you. I sure as shit have no energy for anyone else. And who do you think keeps calling you?” he growls. “Because they’re really fucking insistent. They’re being rude.”

“It’s work. Somehow, magically,” I narrow my eyes and let him know I know who messed with my phone, “all of my contacts have different ringtones, so I barely need to even look at the screen anymore. Feeling Groovy by Simon and whatshisface is hardly subtle.”

“For Aubree.” Chuckling, he drops his arm to the side. “It suits, no?”

“Mm. And the Star Wars Death March for any calls coming from the George Stanley?” I move to the closet and select a shirt—one of his. I shrug it on and tie a little knot in the side to keep the excess fabric under control. “Real funny, Malone. I had Aubree change it as soon as we got to work.”

“Ah…” He reaches out for me, his fingertips brushing my hip, but we’re too far apart for him to really get a good hold. “That’s why I didn’t recognize who was calling now. You changed the George Stanley from cinematic genius to…” He listens when my phone rings again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I don’t know. Aubree changed it, and I don’t know how to pick something else.”

“Are they saying Tooty Ta?” He crawls off the edge of the bed and taps my ass with the pads of his fingers. No slap this time, because doing so would hurt. But he needs to touch. It’s in hisDNA to grab me every time he’s close enough. “What the fuck is a tooty ta?”

“I don’t know! None of this would be a problem if you didn’t mess around with my phone in the first place. But the tooty thing is the better option, considering yours was ominous and depressing. I didn’t want to feel like Vader’s dudes would gun me down every time someone called from my office… which is every damn day.”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “This is a way better option. Aubree’s punking you, Mayet, and she’s so sweet about it, no one would dare accuse her of being evil to her core.” He selects a shirt and quickly slips it over his head. Then he moves to the same drawer I stole pants from and takes a pair for himself. “Tooty ta,” he sings to himself, stepping into the fabric. “Tooty ta.”

“Jerk.” I stride toward the door and straight through while his ass is still on show. It’s his punishment for messing with me, but honestly, I’m not even sure he’d care if Cato saw him in his skin anyway. “I need to take that call, not only because it’s probably important, but because I want that damn song to go away.”

“It’s so fuckin’ annoying!” Cato calls from the living room. “Make it stop, Mayet! Make the music go away.”

“Hush.” I stride along the hall and pretend I don’t notice my panties on the floor. Nor the single black heel I intend to wear to the funeral on Friday. Snatching the device from the counter and reading GEORGE STANLEY on the screen—redundant, really—I swipe to answer and bring the phone to my ear. “This is Chief Mayet.”

“Chief! Hey!” Patten’s breath comes out on a fast exhale. “Shit, boss. I’m sorry for hounding you. I know this is my shift, and it’s on me to keep things under control, but we have a bit of a situation over here that you’ll want to know about.”

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