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“I should have too,” I replied. “We didn’t. We might learn from that. We might not. But, Cap, it’s only been a day and we’re here now. Maybe it’s good. Maybe we needed some space. Butwe’re here now.” I grinned. “And you give amazing headandapologies and your bag is back on my armchair, so it’s all good.”
He returned my grin and took his arm from around me so he could curl his fingers at the side of my neck and stroke my jaw with his thumb. “Mind the coffee table next time you attack me.”
“Word,” I agreed. “And just to say, the fireman’s hold was the absolute shit.”
He let out a soft chuckle, and it felt ridiculously good moving against me.
“I learned that from Luke. He carried Ava out of Vance and Jules’s wedding reception after she told him she loved him for the first time, took her home and gave her the business. They came back and she had sex hair.”
I started laughing, at the same time thinking I was really going to like these people.
“You need to clean up?” he asked.
I nodded.
He touched his lips to my mouth, my nose, my forehead, then he rolled off me.
I scooted off the bed, went to the bathroom, took care of business, then grabbed my nightie from the hook on the back of the door and pulled it over my head.
When I got back to the bedroom, Cap had his pants up, was bootless, still shirtless (his shirt was in the living room), walking toward the door and asking me, “Got a pen and paper?”
“What?”
He stopped, cupped my jaw and repeated, “Pen and paper?”
I was confused about this question, but I answered, “TV cabinet, top middle drawer.”
He nodded and took off.
I located my panties and tugged them on.
He came back, sat on the side of the bed and ordered, “Lap.”
I felt my mouth quirk at his bossy, but I didn’t hesitate to climb in his lap.
He pulled my legs to the side, swinging them over his thigh so I was stable and all kinds of comfy. He wrapped an arm around me and still managed to hold the notepad so he could write on it.
I had no idea what he was doing, but whatever it was, he had my full attention.
“You got no pens that aren’t pink and don’t have little crowns on top of them,” he remarked.
I pulled my shoulders forward and gave him big eyes.
“What can I say? I’m a girl.”
He shook his head then turned his attention to the paper.
He wrote:
Who? – victim
When? – opportunity?
Where? – opportunity?
How? – opportunity?
Why? – motive
