Page 79 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

She shifts closer until our knees touch. “I need more than your hand,” she says.

Every thought in my head stops. I look at her face. “Tell me.”

“Closer.” Scarlet turns toward me and climbs partly across the narrow bench, one knee pressing between my thighs. I catch her hips before the boat can tilt her backward.

Her arms circle my shoulders. Then she kisses me. This kiss isn’t careful. Her mouth opens over mine with fear, anger, and need wound together so tightly, I can’t separate one from the others. I pull her against my chest, one hand firm at her waist and the other sliding into her hair. Her body settles over my thigh.

The engine heat and damp air disappear beneath cedar, honey, and the soft sound she makes when I kiss her deeper.

She rocks once against me, and pleasure moves through her scent. My hand tightens at her hip.

“Scarlet.”

“I know where we are.”

“You’re sure?”

“I need you.” She grips my hair and kisses me again.

That answers that.

I drag my mouth down her throat, stopping before the place a bite would go. My cheek brushes her skin instead, and I lay my scent over her pulse. She purrs. The vibration travels straight through my chest.

Scarlet rolls her hips again, slower this time, using the pressure of my thigh. Her breath breaks against my ear. I keep my hands at her waist.

“Use me,” I tell her.

She shudders. The next movement is harder. Her fingers dig into my shoulders while she grinds against my thigh, chasing relief with no room left for embarrassment. I kiss her until her breathing turns ragged. Her scent opens warm and slick-sweet through the shaded air.

Then a branch cracks beyond the cypress stand.

Scarlet freezes against me.

I turn toward the sound, keeping one arm around her while I scan the trees. Nothing moves.

Ollie’s easy expression disappears.

Scarlet’s hand closes in my shirt.

We aren’t alone.

Chapter 19

Scarlet Sage

The branch cracks again before any of us breathe.

Wes moves first, shifting me off his thigh and putting his body between me and the cypress shadows with the same controlled speed that made me forget danger existed thirty seconds ago. My hands catch at the back of his shirt before my pride can object.

Ollie reaches for the airboat controls, but Wes lifts two fingers without taking his attention from the tree line.

“Wait.”

The swamp answers with insects humming, water licking the boat’s metal side, and leaves whispering overhead.

Every hair along my arms rises.

Ollie leans toward the bank, squinting through the vines. “Could be a gator.”