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Adele stood, her face red and her shoulders squared. “We can. I’ll start a list. We won’t stop until we get answers.”
“Adele.” Henri sighed. “You can’t torture confessions out of our employees. It’s bad for business and it won’t stand up in court.”
“I don’t give a fuck about court.”
Hazel stepped close to Adele, putting a hand on her forearm. They were physical opposites, but both women were fierce in their own ways. “Give me some more time. There is a lot more to look into. And I think I need to go up to camp, see how things work, how everything is laid out. Maybe talk to some folks. I can ask questions that the rest of you can’t in the name of research.”
My brothers nodded, but Adele still looked dubious. “Take her to camp,” Henri said, his hands on his hips. “Give her whatever she needs.” He turned to Paz. “And you work on finding someone to investigate. We’ll find out what happened to Dad. And we’ll make sure whoever is responsible gets justice.”
Chapter31
Hazel
“We should get out of bed,” Remy rasped, burying his face in my hair.
“Oh yes,” I added, snuggling against his bare chest, eyes closed. “Definitely. We should go be productive.”
We lay like that for a long moment, soaking in the feel of one another’s warm skin. Finally forcing my eyes open, I peeked up at him, taking in his scruffy beard and wild hair. He was so absurdly sexy. How on earth had I resisted him for so long? Being in his proximity had me fighting the urge to switch the topic of my dissertation and instead focus on the science behind how even the most superhumanly self-controlled woman is no match for the raw masculine appeal of Remy Gagnon.
He pulled me to his chest again and kissed me, morning breath be damned. “Shit, you are gorgeous.” His hoarse morning voice sent bolts of desire arcing through me. “Like Snow White with glasses and a genius IQ.”
With that, I pushed him away. “Ugh. That’s my problem. Cute and sweet and harmless.” I crossed my arms over my naked chest. Story of my life. Always the character who’s seen as weak, who needs to be saved. Never the one doing the saving.
“You, my sweet wife, are completely missing the point. Snow White ishot. Smoking hot.” He sat up and pulled me on top of him, his desire poking my thigh. “That little dress. Sexy as fuck. And the headband?” He threw his head back. “Unreal.”
My husband was ridiculous, but the way he palmed my breast, brushing back and forth across the nipple, had desire pooling in my core, despite our discussion about a 1930s Disney princess.
“You’re beautiful and playful and so fucking sexy,” he whispered, nipping at my earlobe. “So beautiful. Like birds and forest creatures help you get ready in the morning.”
I giggled. “I’m sure as shit not doing laundry for a bunch of creepy men who live in the woods.”
“I’m a creepy man who lives in the woods,” he quipped, kissing my neck.
“But I don’t do your laundry anymore.”
“Thank God. I’d have no clothes left. We both know your talents are not in the domestic arts, wife.”
“I have many skills,” I argued, relishing the feel of his lips on my skin as he worked his way down my chest.
“Mm-hmm,” he agreed, gently biting my nipple and tugging.
I moaned, getting more and more worked up by the minute. “Data analysis.”
“And building statistical models.”
“And blow jobs.”
He pulled back and raised one eyebrow. “Is that right?” He rubbed his chin. “I may require a demonstration of your skills.”
I pushed at his shoulders until he was resting against the pillows, then shimmied my way down his body and settled between his legs. His erection strained as I ghosted my lips over the tip. “I’d be happy to oblige.”
* * *
My life had changed in so many ways over the last several weeks. Living with Remy and sleeping with Remy. And not the platonic, opposite sides of the bed sleepovers we’d had before. Naked snuggles and orgasms and late-night snacks and waking up every morning to his handsome face smiling at me.
It was intoxicating. Remy had been part of my life for twenty-eight years, and I’d thought I knew everything about him. But he continued to surprise and delight me.
And I’d never seen him this focused. He trained nonstop, working with Henri late at night and getting up early to run before work. I had even learned to cook. Well, sort of. I had perfected his favorite post-workout protein shake, and it made me feel like Goddamn June Cleaver to hand it to him after his run every morning.
