Page 100 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

Behind me, Wes’s breathing speeds up. I press back against him deliberately, and his hand tightens over my stomach.

Roman smiles against my lips. “That was subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

The words make Wes purr. This time, I let my own purr answer without fighting it.

Roman kisses the corner of my mouth, then my cheek. “Look at you, owning your decisions.”

“They were excellent decisions.”

“Plural?”

I glance over my shoulder at Wes. “Very plural.”

His eyes are dark when they meet mine. The look sends heat curling through the softness of the morning. I shift again, giving him an invitation.

Wes’s hand slides beneath the hem of my sleep shirt and settles on my bare stomach. “Still sore?” he asks.

“A little.”

His palm stays warm and still.

I curl my fingers around his wrist and guide his hand lower. “Not too sore to be touched.”

Roman’s gaze moves to the movement before returning to my face.

Wes kisses my shoulder once more.

Then he pushes the quilt slowly down my legs.

“What are you doing?” I ask, though his scent has already changed enough to answer.

His mouth moves along my back as he follows the retreating blanket. “Tasting you.”

The answer is delivered with the calm certainty of a man announcing breakfast. It sends a pulse between my legs.

Roman’s smile presses against my temple. “He’s been awake for thirty seconds.”

“Long enough,” Wes says.

I settle more comfortably against the pillows. Wes catches the hem of my sleep shirt and lifts it over my hips. Cool morning air reaches my thighs. His mouth follows.

He kisses one knee first, then the inside of my thigh, slow and lingering. There is nothing hurried in the way he’s approaching me. Every touch of his lips feels like the beginning of a kiss he intends to deepen.

My breath becomes shallow.

Roman cups my face and turns me toward him again.

Wes reaches the place between my thighs and pauses. His purr deepens. “You smell so sweet.”

The words warm my face more than they should. “You say that like you’ve been denied.”

“I have.” His mouth brushes the soft skin beside my pussy. “For hours.”

“It was called sleeping.”

“Wasteful.”