She grins. "You know. After all those orgasms."
I burst out laughing. "You're unbelievable."
"Is that a yes?"
"No."
"No, you've never interrogated a serial killer? Or no, you won't tell me?"
"Yes."
She gasps. "BRONSON!"
I laugh as she smacks my chest. "You're impossible!"
"Sweetheart, you've spent the entire evening trying to get me to reveal confidential information."
"That's not true!"
I raise an eyebrow. She considers this.
"Fine. But I thought we might have reached a new level of intimacy."
"We have."
"Then tell me about the serial killers!"
I shake my head. “Save it for your podcasts, sweetheart.”
She groans dramatically and collapses against my chest. "You're no fun."
I roll her onto her back.
"Really?"
Her eyes widen. "Oh."
I brush my mouth against hers. "Because I don't recall you complaining about that approximately twenty minutes ago."
She smiles.
"Well, Detective, perhaps we need to conduct a follow-up investigation."
I grin. "Is that so?"
"Absolutely. I believe some additional evidence might be required."
I kiss her. Distracting Rachel might just become my favorite investigative technique.
As we tease each other with kisses and touches and words, I know for absolute certain.
I don't want another date. I want a thousand.
I want mornings. And weekends. And nights curled up in bed watching overly dramatic true crime documentaries.
Because I’ve finally found something worth investigating for the rest of my life.
SEVEN