“What was Nina right about?”
“That I have a thing for heroes with a penchant for taking risks to save lives. And that was why my ex and I would have never worked out anyway.”
I note the way she carefully avoids saying his name, but I’m curious about the rest. “Who else have you had a thing for, if not him?”
“Not a thing, exactly. It was just an observation she made about how close I always was to Dad and Chris. How she expected me to follow in Dad’s footsteps. He runs a medical NGO that provides trauma care to citizens of developing countries. I think he’s somewhere in East Africa right now, saving lives. He and Mom have been divorced since shortly after Chris . . .” She trails off with a wince. That says a lot, both about her and the senator.
“Is it a dealbreaker?” I ask with a tilt of one eyebrow.
“What? Oh god, no. Seriously. Nina does know me well. If anything, I’d want to go with you to Mexico to help get your daughter from Zavala, but I really hope the killing part isn’t necessary.”
“Trust me, I hope it isn’t, either.”
She pours us both refills, then faces me, bending her legs and propping her feet against my thigh. “So, I hope that clears the air on all the secrets we both have. Any more deep, dark confessions? Do all your tattoos have a story like that one?”
“Probably,” I drawl, then tilt the mug to my lips, watching her over the rim. The warmth has finally permeated to my center and parts of me have begun to wake up to her proximity. “But where would be the fun in telling you all of them at once? You know the big ones now. I’d like to know if there’s a story to your lonely little piece of ink beyond the obvious.”
“Lonely? How do you know it’s the only one?”
“I have seen you naked. Every motherfucking beautiful inch of you, as a matter of fact. And I enjoyed all of it. But I know for a fact there were no other tattoos. Just a pretty beauty mark or two. I especially like the one you have right underneath your left ass cheek. It’s kind of heart-shaped, if you look at it from a certain angle.”
Her hand reflexively drifts down to the back of her thigh, as if she doesn’t quite believe she has a mark there. I, on the other hand, was up close and personal with that part of her anatomy last night and enjoyed every second of it.
But I don’t stop there. “And you’ve got one on your left hipbone, mirroring your tattoo. Just a freckle, really, but it’s cute as hell.”
I reach out and tease my fingertips up the side of her neck. She braces herself, realizing exactly where I’m headed next. I pause, lightly caressing the skin behind her left ear. Her breathing quickens, and my blood heats in response.
My voice is gruff when I say, “And this one. A birthmark, I think. It’s shaped like a rosebud.”
Evidently it’s a little too much for her. She grips my hand, pulling it away from her neck, and holds it tightly, shaking her head. “How the hell do you remember all that? It’s a little creepy.”
“I have a good memory for details. It’s one of the things that makes me good at my job. All the Santos kids have it, to some degree.”
“Really? If that’s so, I guess you know the name of my downstairs neighbor.”
“Hoffman. There was no first name listed on the buzzer, though.”
“What about my upstairs neighbor?”
“Van-something. It was a complicated Indian name. I don’t know how to pronounce it. I could spell it for you, though.”
Callie laughs. “No, don’t. It’s a tricky one, Vankayalapati,” she says, carefully enunciating until it’s clear and I repeat it back.
“So, am I off the hook for being creepy?”
“Not sure yet . . .”
I extract my hand from hers and wrap my fingers around her knee. “I also remember that you seemed to like it when I did this.” I tease a fingertip along the tender spot at the back of her knee through her thin leggings. She inhales sharply, then licks her lips, but doesn’t move. I’ve got her now.
In a breathy voice, she asks, “Oh? So . . . what . . . else did you . . . learn?”
I set my empty mug on the table and shift, turning to face her. Sliding my hands up the outsides of her thighs over her leggings, I pause with my palms resting at her hips. Her tart apple scent permeates the air between us, but beneath it is an earthy aroma that makes my cock twitch.
“You mean besides the fact that you scream when I make you come?”
Her blue eyes flash with humor. “You knew that already. Is that all?”
“Well, I learned that even if there had been a raging blizzard outside this afternoon, it wouldn’t have stopped me from seeing you again.”
She leans a little closer, a wry tilt to her lips. “Is that so?”
I swallow and suppress a primal urge to push her back, rip her clothes off, and mount her. Instead I just murmur, “As true as the night is long, sweetness,” as I brush my lips over hers.
A soft sigh escapes her throat a moment before I take her mouth. I squeeze her hips while I slide my tongue against hers, tasting the whiskey flavor left behind.
She leans in, slipping her hands down over my chest, exploring slowly with a gentle, silken touch that stokes the heat building low inside me. Rising onto her knees, she pushes against my shoulders, giving me no choice but to lean back onto the throw pillows at the end of the sofa.
I swallow hard as I stare up at her, bewildered by her radiant beauty, at how fucking lucky I am to have found her again.
“What do you like?” she
