Blue collapses on top of me, and for a minute we just breathe.
I’m pretty sure I have moss in my underwear. Well, what’s left of my underwear. Also rose petals stuck to places that are going to be awkward to explain to Wren if she does my laundry.
“Well,” I say when I finally catch my breath, “that was definitely not vanilla.”
His laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrating against me. “I did warn you.”
“You did. Although I feel like there should have been a more detailed disclaimer. Something about potential moss stains and the risk of being permanently ruined for all other men.”
“Permanently ruined?” He lifts his head to look at me, and there’s something almost boyish in his satisfaction. “Good.”
I trace my finger along his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard. “You know, most people have sex in beds. Like civilized humans.”
“Most people are boring.” He presses a kiss to my throat, right where he bit me. “Besides, you’re the one who told me to stop holding back.”
“Fair point. Although I’m pretty sure I have dirt in places that should never see dirt.”
“I’ll help you wash it off later.” The way he says it makes me want him again, which should be impossible given what we just did.
“Later?” I raise an eyebrow. “Already planning round two?”
“Round two, three, four...” He grins against my skin. “I’m a very thorough man, Saylor. When I claim something as mine, I make sure it stays claimed.”
The possessiveness in his voice makes me clench my thighs together. “Territorial bastard.”
“Guilty as charged.”
He rolls off me finally, but the air in here is so thick and humid that my skin stays slick with sweat. I sit up, trying to assess the damage to my dress while Blue deals with the condom and adjusts his clothes. My hair has definitely seen better days, and there are definitely going to be some interesting bruises tomorrow.
“I look like I got in a fight with your garden and lost,” I observe, attempting to finger-comb rose petals out of my hair.
“You look perfect.” Blue’s voice is rough with sincerity. “You look exactly like what you are.”
“Which is?”
“Someone who just figured out she likes getting dirty.”
Before I can respond to that loaded statement, his phone starts ringing. The sound is jarring in our rose-scented bubble, dragging us back to reality with all the subtlety of a fire alarm.
Blue glances at the screen and frowns. “I should—”
“Take it,” I say, still working on my hair situation. “Don’t mind me.”
He declines the call and helps me to my feet instead, his hands gentle as he checks me over for any actual damage. The phone immediately starts ringing again.
“Popular man,” I tease, but there’s something in Blue’s energy that makes my stomach tighten.
He declines again. The ringing stops for maybe ten seconds before starting up once more.
“Jesus Christ.” Blue’s jaw clenches as he looks at the screen. “Hans doesn’t call unless—” The phone keeps ringing. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.”
“Hans?” he answers, and even from where I’m standing I can hear the rapid-fire German coming through the speaker. Blue’s entire demeanor morphs, the satisfied post-sex contentment draining from his face like water through a sieve.
Whatever Hans is saying, it’s not good news.
“How many?” Blue asks. More rapid German. “When?”
I watch Blue’s face darken with each word, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. The man who was just worshipping my body with his mouth has disappeared, replaced by someone calculating and deadly.
