Sometimes, I honestly can’t tell if she’s more devil than angel.
I let out a breath that sounds like a curse and drag my free hand down my face before meeting her gaze.
“That’s the problem,” I mutter. “I don’t.”
Her big, brown eyes get impossibly wider as a triumphant smile curves her full lips. Lips, I’m aching to kiss again.
“You don’t?”
I push my head further back into the pillow and groan. “Just because I don’t want you to stop, doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop you.”
She blows out a puff of air. “I see Mr FunPolizia(Police) is rearing his uptight little head again.”
I smirk. “He prefers Chief of Self-Control, actually.”
She shifts, her thigh brushing mine, and leans in just enough for her breath to tickle my jaw. “Pretty sure he’s about to get fired.”
I groan, low and deep. “He’s dangerously close to handing in his badge,” I admit.
That has her smile returning as she tries to push her hand further into my underwear, but by some miracle, I hold tight.
“Ugh,” she sighs, dropping her head to my chest. “You’re impossible ... and stupidly hot.”
I bark out a laugh. “Stupidly hot?”
“Yes. I think I’m going to self-combust if I don’t get a release. Can I at least hump your leg?”
That has me busting out another laugh.
“Well, can I?”
“No!”
“We’re consenting adults, Romeo. I’m your wife, for God’s sake.”
I stare up at her, but remain silent, while a full-blown war rages in my head.
“Are you seriously going to stop me?” she asks as she tries to force her hand down my pants again.
“I don’t have a death wish.”
This time, she laughs, but it’s not a humorous one; it’s more manic. “Move your hand,” she growls. “Or Dante will be the least of your worries.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is that a threat, sweetheart?”
“No, it’s a promise.”
I’m unable to hold back my shit-eating grin. This woman is too much, and a constant source of entertainment.
When she tugs her hand out from underneath mine and rolls over, I struggle to hold back another laugh. She gave up way easier than I anticipated.
When she mumbles something underneath her breath, I roll my lips, but when she flips onto her back and I catch the glow of her phone in her hand, my grin fades.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“None of your business.”
“What. Are. You. Doing?” I repeat, punctuating each word.
