Page 112 of Dancing in the Dark

“Sera?”

“I want to show her something. It’s kinda special,” she rasps. “Kind of private.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Would that be okay?” Gulping, she drags her eyes up again. “It’s a dance thing. Something I hope might help her after tonight. You could come, too, if you want. But I⁠—”

“It’s fine.” I fold over her legs and cup her jaw, drawing her nearer until our noses stop a mere six inches apart. “I trust you.” I feather a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard sharing is an important habit we’re supposed to learn by first grade.”

She grins.

I kiss her a second time. “And it’s not like Archer and I don’t have enough work to keep us busy. What time do you want her till?”

“Uh…” She glances momentarily toward the ceiling. “We have to stay out at least until dark. Then we’d be back maybe an hour after that.”

I whistle under my breath. “She’s only five, yet her social life is more exciting than mine.”

“Stop.” She brushes my hand away, but only to make room so she can drag herself over my lap and straddle my thighs, all without spilling a single drop of wine. “How’s that investigation going, anyway? Before this one, I swear it felt like I saw you and Detective Malone on the news at least every other night, boasting about another closed case.”

“Every night, actually.” I massage her thighs. Her ass. The small of her back. “We were on a helluva roll, and then we caught this one.” Anderson fucking Markum. That’s what happened. But I refuse to bring him into our home when we already have so much stacked against us, so I shrug. “This is how it goes sometimes. Some cases take longer than others.”

“You haven’t shared very many updates since it began.”

Yeah. Because they’d all sound something like your bitch-ass ex-boyfriend is escalating his complaints like he thinks he gets a free pan pizza when he hits fifty. “There’s not much to update you on yet. Dead girl. Party boat. Sounds like they had a bit of an orgy, to be honest.”

Stunned, her brows shoot high on her forehead.

“Well… perhaps orgy isn’t the right word. More like a game of musical chairs, where our vic was the chair, and the guys that night bickered over who got to sit next.”

She scrunches her nose. “Gross.”

“Mmhm. But if we ignore the fact she was drunk, it’s all sounding pretty consensual.”

“Do you know who hurt her?”

“Uh huh.” I lean forward and press my face to the warm pulse on the side of her neck. “Pretty sure we’ve got it figured out, but there’s not much we can do until we have the correct paperwork in place.”

She combs her fingers through my hair and gently tugs me back. “What paperwork?”

Don’t say his name. Don’t say his name. Do not say his name! “Just all the regular boring procedural stuff. If we jump and make an arrest too soon, we risk a judge tearing our case apart. Fortunately, Arch and I agree that no one else is in imminent danger, nor do we feel our suspect is a flight risk, so…”

“So you have time to get it right.” She takes a slow sip of her wine and closes her eyes, swallowing as if the entire experience is akin to something holy. “This is really tasty.”

“I picked good?”

“Mm.” She brings her fatigued gaze back down to mine. “You picked really well. Don’t think I didn’t notice you got this especially for me.”

I tilt my head to the side and consider biting her neck, right where her pulse thunders. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t drink wine, but you have some in the fridge. That means you went out and bought it for me.” She presses a gentle kiss to my lips. “I haven’t said it yet.”

“Said what?”

“That I love you.”

Stunned, I stop. Breathing. Moving. Massaging. Existing. I stare into her eyes and work desperately to silence the voice in my head that swears I don’t deserve good things. “W-was that a statement that you do, in fact, love me? Or just that you haven’t said it yet?”

“I don’t know if I’m qualified to use those words and mean them,” she rasps. “My only experience with love has been when someone else wanted to manipulate me with it.” She licks her lips and nervously swallows.