Page 91 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

His thrusts are deep and controlled, each one pressing her forward into my hand. I kiss her while he fucks her, swallowing every sound until she stops trying to quiet them.

“Look at him,” I say.

Scarlet turns toward Wes.

His eyes lock on hers. “That’s it,” he tells her. “Let me see how good I make you feel. Show me how good you take me.”

Her body tightens. I increase the pressure on her clit and suck on her neck where a bond mark would go. Scarlet comes with a curse on her lips and my fingers between her thighs. Wes follows moments later, thrusting deep and holding himself there while his face presses against her. His teeth touch skin, but they don’t close.

Scarlet’s hand finds mine and squeezes. Then Wes lifts his mouth and kisses the unbitten place.

He withdraws carefully. I keep Scarlet against me while he goes to the kitchen and returns with a warm wet cloth.

He kneels in front of her. “How you doing, sweetheart?”

She considers the question instead of dismissing it. “Tender. Good tender.”

Wes cleans her gently.

Her face turns pink.

I kiss her shoulder. “You survived being adored.”

“I’m very brave.”

“The bravest.”

Her smile is tired now but full of happiness.

Wes pulls the quilt over her legs before disappearing back into the kitchen. He returns with the pasta she refused earlier, reheated again, along with enough water to survive a minor flood.

Scarlet looks at the bowl. “I was recently very busy.”

“You were magnificent,” I tell her.

Wes sits on the coffee table in front of her. “Eat.”

Scarlet accepts the fork without arguing. She eats three bites, drinks half the water, and leans back into me. Wes lifts her legs across his lap, one palm moving slowly along her shin.

She has spent the evening giving us her body, but the fact that she trusts us to keep watch, enough to rest, makes my throat tighten. Scarlet has fought for every safe place she has ever had. She carved this place out of wild isolation, filled it with quilts, herbs, and books, and convinced herself solitude was the same as peace. But right here, between the two of us, she seems to have finally found it. Giving it to her makes me feel ten feet tall.

Her fingers find mine beneath the blanket. Her other hand rests in Wes’s open palm. For a few stolen breaths, the house holds only rain, the crackle of the record, and Scarlet’s soft purr between us.

Then my phone buzzes.

Wes’s follows half a second later.

From the porch, one of the temporary camera alerts chirps.

All three sounds cut through the afterglow.

I check my screen.

Pepper: Preliminary results.

The message is short enough to tighten my stomach, but it doesn’t explain more than that.

Wes is already standing, looking at his phone. “Camera picked up movement near the greenhouse.”