Page 43 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

Her breath catches, and she turns her head slowly toward mine. “You flirt like a man trying not to admit he’s doing it.”

“I’m emotionally complicated.”

“That sounds like a medical condition.”

“Possibly terminal.”

The smile she gives me is small and unguarded, in a way I suspect she doesn’t offer most people.

The wind lifts another strand across her cheek. This time I move slowly enough that she can stop me. My fingers brush the hair away from her face, skimming the warm curve of her cheek, before tucking it behind her ear.

The contact is almost nothing, but her scent tells a different story. Honey warms through rain and sage, softening in the space between us until I lean toward her with a quiet, certain ache.

Scarlet’s eyes search mine. “Are you always this careful?”

“No.”

That answer costs more than a joke would have.

Her fingers still against the dock boards, close enough to mine that the space between us becomes a choice.

I turn my hand palm up. It’s an offer.

For one long breath, she only looks at it. The swamp moves around us, frogs calling in the reeds, fireflies drifting in their jars, and rainwater falling from cypress branches into dark water.

Then Scarlet sets her hand in mine. Her fingers are cool from the damp air, but her palm is warm. I close my hand around hers gently, and her breath leaves in a rush she doesn’t try to disguise.

For a moment she lets me see the omega she hides so fiercely. I brush my thumb along her knuckles. Her shoulders lower.

“This is dangerous,” she says softly.

“The dock?”

“The way you’re looking at me like you see me.”

My chest tightens. “I do.”

Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

“And I don’t want to look away,” I say.

I lift her hand and press my mouth to her knuckles.

Her lashes flutter. Every sharp edge of her softens for one second.

When I lower her hand, I keep hold of it. “You can tell me to stop.”

She doesn’t.

I give her one more breath to reconsider, then lean closer.

Scarlet closes the distance first.

Her mouth touches mine carefully, a question made of warm lips. I answer slowly, letting her decide whether the kiss deepens or ends. She chooses deeper. Her free hand slides into my hair, and her careful touch turns hungry enough to pull a rough sound from me. I cup the side of her neck, thumb beneath her jaw, feeling the frantic beat of her pulse.

She purrs. The vibration is small and startled, breaking against my mouth. Scarlet pulls back half an inch, her eyes wide.

I press my forehead to hers. “That’s beautiful.”