Page 233 of Chameleon Killer

I rolled onto my back while he dealt with it, and he leaned over long enough to press a kiss against my shoulder before getting out of bed.

The buzzer sounded once more.

Flint stopped. Slowly, he turned his head toward the bedroom door. If a glare could travel through walls, whoever stood downstairs had just been set on fire.

“Stay here.”

I raised my eyebrows.

He pointed at me.

I considered reminding him how well orders generally worked on me.

Then I glanced at the bed around me. Warm sheets. Pillows. Absolutely no serial killers, FBI agents, homicide investigations, or attorneys.

For once, staying put had some appeal. So I gave him a little salute before blowing him a kiss.

After shooting me, what some might call a suspicious look, Flint disappeared through the doorway. I could have objected to that narrow-eyed expression but he really did know me.

What I should have done was call him back. There was no rule that said we had to pay attention to the rest of the world. Frankly, whoever it was could just fuck off.

The thought was childish, irresponsible, and deeply attractive. I rolled onto my side and pulled his pillow against me. It smelled like him.

I was considering whether I could get away with another ten minutes of refusing to participate in reality when Flint's voice carried from the other room.

“Dammit.”

I pushed onto one elbow. “Flint?”

Silence.

I waited.

Then he said, “It's Brewster.”

Every pleasant, languid sensation in my body disappeared.

I sat up. “What?”

“Brewster.”

Well.

Fuck.

I dragged myself out of bed.

My legs lodged a formal complaint about the decision, which I chose to ignore as I padded into the living room.

Our clothes were everywhere.

His jeans were beside the sofa.

The shirt I’d borrowed had somehow landed near the kitchen. There was a sock beneath the coffee table. I had no idea where the other one was.

Flint stood naked at the intercom panel near the door, one hand braced against the wall beside it.

I didn't bother dressing either. Modesty seemed ridiculous at this point. Especially when I was definitely enjoying the view.