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Sloane’s cheeks flushed and he shrugged. “I’m not saying you should, just that I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“Uh-huh.” Dex held back a smile. He knew his partner had a bit of a kinky side. Not that he was complaining. He loved it when Sloane got all bossy in the bedroom or talked dirty to him. Now he had sinful images of Sloane dressed in leather in his head. Guess he knew what he’d be thinking about in the shower later. Sloane dressed in nothing but a pair of tight black leather pants with maybe some straps around his beefy biceps. Oh yeah. He needed to get off this train of thought before he ended up poking his partner with a different part of his equipment. “We’ll see. So, will you stay with me and let me nurse you back to health?”

Sloane’s expression turned serious, and he removed his hand from Dex’s leg. “I have some terms and conditions.”

“All right. Lay them on me.” Dex braced himself. He half expected Sloane to whip out a monocle and unfurl a list of rules long enough to reach the end of the room.

“I control the music.”

Dex gasped. He might have whimpered a little too. “Does that mean no Retro Radio?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. It means I’ll decide when and how often we tune in to Retro Radio. I would rather give up my left testicle than sit through another one of their Musicians with Mullets marathons.”

Dex let out a snicker. “You were so ready to lose your shit.”

Sloane smiled pleasantly and booped the end of Dex’s nose. “And that’s how serial killers are made.”

“Okay,” Dex said with a laugh. “Okay. No mullet music marathons. Anything else?”

Sloane grinned widely. “You bet your cute little ass. I’ll give you my list of demands after I’ve settled in.”

“Hold up. So I have to accept the terms and conditions without knowing what they are first?” So not fair! And pure genius. Why the hell hadn’t Dex thought of that?

“Yep.”

“Are you going to make me regret asking?”

“Quite possibly.”

Dex eyed him suspiciously before pretending to think about it. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Good.” Sloane let out a yawn, his eyelids growing heavy. “You’ll need to pick up some clothes and toiletries for me at my apartment.”

“No, prob. I’ll drop by on the way home.”

Sloane let out another yawn. “Can you pick up my mail?”

“Sure thing.” Dex gave his cheek a kiss, earning himself a contented smile. It was most likely the meds putting Sloane in such a sappy mood. Dex might as well enjoy it. He ran his fingers through his partner’s hair. It was starting to grow long again after he’d been forced to get it cut, thanks to Tony finally carrying through with one of his famous “get it cut before I cut it for you” threats. Poor Sloane. It had been a traumatizing experience for his Felid Therian partner. Sloane hummed and turned his head toward Dex. When he opened his eyes, he looked uncertain.

“You really want me to stay with you? I mean, you’ll have enough to deal with at work without having to worry about me.”

Shit. Work. For a moment, Dex had forgotten about work and the case. The case he’d been pulled from. He leaned in to kiss Sloane, being gentle while at the same time trying to show Sloane how glad he was they were together. Sloane placed a hand to Dex’s cheek, his thumb stroking softly, and a lump formed in Dex’s throat. He smiled up at his partner, a guy who was quickly taking over his world. How could Dex tell Sloane their team was no longer out there searching for the bastard who’d done this to him?

Dex kissed Sloane once more before carefully getting off the bed. “I’m sure. I’d worry if you weren’t there.” He clipped his holster back into place, along with his badge before he picked up his jacket.

“You’re leaving?”

Sloane’s pout was adorable, and Dex was tempted to hang around longer, but he wanted to pick up a few things before taking his partner home. “Yeah, I’m going to stop by your apartment and finish a couple of reports. I’ll be back tonight. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Sloane nodded with a yawn. “Okay.”

Dex was about to head out when his phone rang. Distracted by Sloane’s sweet face as he wrinkled his nose at something he saw on TV, Dex answered without checking the caller ID.

“Daley here.”

A PR agent rattled off excitedly about all the possibilities for their upcoming brainstorming session and a host of dates he could come in, plus a load of other words Dex wasn’t quick enough to make sense of. The PR department was either on a constant caffeine high or crack. Nothing else could explain the earsplitting grins or unrelenting excitement.

“Yep, okay, sure. Pencil me in whenever. Okay. Send it to my diary. I’m looking forward to it as well,” he forced out before hanging up. Sloane gave him a questioning look as Dex returned his phone to his pocket before walking over to the window and knocking on it.

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