Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(4)

“If you need a thing, anything at all, I’m just down the hall.”

“We’ll be fine.” Roarke turned to her, kissed her cheek. “More than.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast then. Sleep well.”

She slipped out, shut the door.

“Why,” Eve asked, “do you want to drive a tractor?”

“I have no idea, but it seems like the thing to do.” Idly, he pulled off his shoes. “I’ll get out of it if you don’t want to be left on your own in the morning.”

“It’s no problem for me. I plan on sleeping off a year’s worth of beer anyway.”

He came to her smiling, brushed a hand over her hair. “A lot of people for you to deal with at one time.”

“They’re okay. At least after you figure out what they’re talking about. What they talk about, a lot, is you.”

“I’m the new element.” He kissed her forehead. “We’re the new element, as they’re fairly fascinated by my cop.” He drew her in so they stood holding each other in the center of the pretty farmhouse bedroom with the night breeze wafting through the window to stir the fragrance of the flowers through the air. “It’s a different life entirely here. A world away.”

“The last murder was about a dozen years ago.”

He drew back, shook his head. Just laughed. “Trust you.”

“I didn’t bring it up. Do you hear that?”

“What?”

“Nothing. See, it’s really quiet, and it’s really dark,” she added with a glance at the window. “Dead quiet, dead dark. So you’d think there’d be more murders.”

“Looking for a busman’s holiday?”

“I know what that means even though it doesn’t make any sense. And no. I’m good with the quiet. Mostly.” She ran a hand up his side, laid it on the wound. “Okay?”

“Well enough. In fact . . .” He leaned down, took her mouth with his, and let his own hand roam.

“Okay, hold it. That’s just weird.”

“It feels very natural to me.”

“Your aunt’s just—what is it—down the hall. You know damn well this place isn’t soundproofed.”

“You’ll just have to be quiet.” He gave her ribs a deliberate tickle that made her jump and yelp. “Or not.”

“Didn’t I bang you already today, twice this morning?”

“Darling Eve, you’re a pathetic romantic.” He backed her toward the bed she’d already noted was less than half the size of the one at home.

“At least turn on the screen or something. For cover noise.”

He brushed his lips over her cheek, his hand over the taut muscles of her ass. “There’s no screen in here.”

“No screen?” She nudged him away, scanned the walls. “Seriously? What kind of place is this?”

“The sort where people use bedrooms for sex and sleep, which is exactly what I have in mind.” To prove it, he tumbled her onto the bed.

It squeaked.

“What is that? Did you hear that? Is there a farm animal in here?”

“I’m fairly certain they keep those outside. It’s the bed.” He tugged her shirt over her head.

Testing, she lifted her hips, let them fall. “Oh, for God’s sake. We can’t do this on a talking bed. Everybody in the house will know what’s going on in here.”

Enjoying himself, he nuzzled at her throat. “I believe they already suspect we have sex.”

“Maybe, but that’s different than having the bed yell out, ‘Whoopee!’”

Was it any wonder he adored her? he thought.

Watching her face, he trailed a finger over her breast. “We’ll have quiet, dignified sex.”

“If sex is dignified it’s not being done right.”

“There’s a point.” He smiled down at her, cupping her breasts now, laying his lips lightly on hers. “Look at you,” he murmured, “all mine for two more lovely weeks.”

“Now you’re just trying to soften me up.” And softened, she reached out to comb her fingers through his hair.

All hers, she thought in turn.

“It’s good, being here.” She took his shirt by the hem, drew it over his head. Once again laid her palm on the healing wound. “Getting here, we’ll forget all about that. But being here, it’s good.”

“It’s been an interesting journey altogether.”

“I wouldn’t have missed a single mile.” She framed his face now, lifted until their lips met. “Even the rocky ones.”

When he lowered to her, she drew him in, and sighed.

Eyes closed, she ran her hands over the good, strong muscles of his back, let the shape and scent of him seep into those places inside her that always waited. Always opened, always welcomed.

She turned her head, found his lips again. Longer, deeper into a drift as easy and sweet as the night air.

The bed gave another rusty squeak, made her laugh. Then another as she shifted to him. “We should try the floor.”

“Next time,” he suggested, and made her laugh again. Made her sigh again. Made all those waiting, welcoming places warm.