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Even now, when she caught sight of me and Forde crossing the room to stand at the bar, her expression turned acidic. Like she was a victim.
“You probably already know this, but women like her are an anomaly.” I leaned into my boyfriend as we waited at the bar. “The rest of us are cool as fuck.”
Forde grinned, relaxing visibly at my words. “Some are cooler than others.”
“Oh, I’m the coolest. You’ll never find cooler than me.”
He chuckled and bent his head to brush his mouth over mine. “The absolute fucking coolest,” he murmured.
And I preened like I always had and always would whenever Forde Dallas paid me a compliment.
Sue served us and we stayed at the bar because there were no empty seats tonight. Once tourist season slowed down, it would be easier to find a table. I tapped my G and T against Forde’s pint. “To a quiet week.”
He snorted. “That’s our goal these days? A quiet week?”
“Aye, it is. I’ll take this quiet, quiet week over break-ins and creepy notes any time.”
Forde had stayed at my place until the police cleared him to return to the house. They hadn’t found any fingerprints or evidence, but I was still convinced the perpetrator was in the Lantern with us. Other than that, we’d returned to work and tried not to worry about it.
He bent his head toward mine, his lips brushing my ear. “I’ve missed you, though.”
I shivered with awareness and wondered if I’d ever stop reacting like this to him. “You don’t need to miss me tonight.” I’d had my period this week and I didn’t like having sex during it, so my vagina had been a Forde-free zone for the last five days.
His dark eyes heated. “Good to know.”
As we talked about everything from Taran’s upcoming delivery to our plans to return to Scaris next year, to the mundanity of our daily comings and goings, Forde’s fingers traced a pattern over my bare arm. I was enjoying the sensation, so it took me a second to realize he was making a loop over my only tattoo. It was on the inside of my right arm. When Heather was born, I’d commemorated the occasion with a pretty tattoo of a branch of heather. Then when Angus came along, I had his name inked through it.
Forde noticed my gaze flicking between his circling fingers and his eyes. Something crossed his features, an emotion I didn’t understand. “What is it?” I reached up to caress his cheek, loving the feel of his beard against my fingertips. Ever since we’d started seeing each other, I found myself wanting to touch him constantly. It was like years of restraining that instinct to be affectionate toward him was spilling all over the place now.
He bussed his head into my touch, pressing a kiss to my palm, his eyes searching mine.
“Forde?”
His gaze dropped to my tattoo. “Will you … will you ever add to that?”
Immediately my mind went to the tattoo he’d inked on his chest. A tattoo to commemorate me. “I will absolutely tattoo you on me,” I promised. “Where do you want it?” I wiggled my brows. “Shall I get Mine inked on my inner thigh in your handwriting?”
Forde laughed. “I know you’re joking, but I’d quite like that.”
I shoved him playfully and he wrapped his arm around my waist, snuggling me against him.
“How about Forde tattooed across that perfect arse?” he murmured gutturally in my ear.
“You are such a caveman.” I groaned, grinning like a besotted idiot.
“A big F with an arrow pointing toward your pussy?”
Even though I knew he was being deliberately provocative, that whispered word on his lips made me hot as flashes of memory hit like a heat wave of horniness. I wasn’t surprised Forde loved to talk filthy to me in bed. I was surprised how erotic it was and how off-the-charts electric the sex between us was.
Our first time together was my first time ever, and while it had been great and I was lucky compared to some people, it was no indicator of just how mind-blowing our physical connection would turn out to be. Or how utterly in sync we were.
I cleared my throat of the arousal tightening it. “I’ll, uh, think of something.”
He kissed my nose, his expression turning contemplative. “I wasn’t actually talking about adding me to your tattoo …”
“Oh?” I took a sip of my G and T. For someone who had solved a serial killer case earlier that year, I was certainly not connecting the dots in this conversation.
Which is why I almost choked on a swallow of my gin when he asked, “Do you still want kids?”
