She opened her mouth to question him further, but he stopped her by palming her ass and pulling her harder against him. A fresh flame of desire ignited low in her belly.
“I got the impression, before you got distracted by my bullet wound, that you were thinking about round number two. Did I read that wrong?”
She bit her lip and lifted a teasing eyebrow. “No, you did not.”
“Good,” he rumbled. “Then let’s use our mouths for something better than talking. What do you say?”
“I say I like the way you think.” When he went to push her onto her back, she stopped him. “Hang on a minute. It’smyturn to play withyou.”
Desire sparked in his eyes and had a smile playing with the corners of his mouth. He folded his hands behind his head. His tone was indulgent and arrogant when he said, “Go on then. Do your worst.”
She did.
Oh, she definitely did.
By the time she straddled his hips and lowered herself onto the part of him she’d paid particular attention to, his indulgence had been replaced with a burning need, and his arrogance had been replaced with gasping pleas for mercy.
25
Julia came awake to the sound of Britt and Hew arguing.
“Okay, fine,” Hew said. “I may have rushed to judgment on that one.”
“You took the fucking Concorde jet to judgment, my brother,” Britt countered.
“I know you’re not an aircraft guy. But the Concorde was decommissioned over twenty years ago. Your analogy is dated.”
She hadn’t opened her eyes. So she couldn’t see him do it. But she knew Britt rolled his eyes by the sound of his voice. “Everyone knows that, Hew. Y’all flyboys aren’t as hot as you think you are.”
“Really?” Hew feigned surprise. “I find that hard to believe. I do own a mirror, after all.”
Julia recognized an ongoing game of one-upmanship when she heard it. She and her brothers played all the time. And since she’d only gotten…she went to grab her phone and then remembered she’d chucked it…maybetwo hours of sleep, that meant she was cranky, in desperate need of coffee, and innomood to listen to verbal sparring.
Before Britt could respond, she lifted a hand above the sofa to stab a finger into the air. “Will you two shut up! Some of us can’t stand conversation until we’ve mainlined coffee!”
After their second round of lovemaking, she had re-donned her pajamas and retaken her place on the sofa after removing the doorstop from beneath the bedroom door. She would havelovedto remain in Britt’s arms. But she was an FBI agent who was still officially on the clock. She wanted to maintain at least a modicum of professionalism in the eyes of the others, even if that ship had long since sailed when it came to Britt.
She hadn’t expected to get any sleep at all, honestly. But the previous day and the long, luxurious night had caught up with her. At some point, she’d succumbed to the pull of slumber.
Now, she sat up, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and blinked blearily toward the kitchen.
Hew stopped with a mug halfway to his mouth. “Jesus, woman. What does the other guy look like?”
She was a restless sleeper. She always woke up with a rat’s nest for a hairdo. Plus, she couldfeelthe bags under her eyes and the pillow marks cutting lines into her cheek.
“You’re hilarious,” she told him grouchily. “When’s open mic night at the comedy club?”
He made a face and turned to Britt. “She’s not a morning person, I take it?”
Ignoring him, Britt strode from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. When he dutifully placed it on the coffee table, she nearly broke a nail snatching it up.
It was piping hot, thick as motor oil, and strong enough to make her teeth grow hair.
In other words,perfection.
She hummed her appreciation after the first sip.
“Morning.” Knox stumbled out of the bedroom with a yawn wide enough to make his jaw crack. “I smell coffee.”
