Twenty-five

TWO hours later, I was finally headed for bed.

My ex-husband had agreed to take over downstairs. Thank heaven for small favors. Matt really was a good guy—especially after he’d had great sex—and his night at the “uh-hem ball” with his Cinder-swiped Millennial Marilyn had given him enough take-on-the-world energy to cover my entire shift.

Lucky for me, my lieutenant was off the NYPD clock until the second tour (3:00 PM). Before he hit the sack, he said he’d set my alarm for early afternoon, so we could both get some rest.

Now I was freshly showered and ready for shut-eye. Shuffling my slippers across the bedroom rug, I was glad to see Mike had already closed the drapes against the dawning sun. He’d also set a fire in the hearth. But by now it had burned down to embers and a creeping chill filled the darkened room.

I noticed his sports jacket hanging on the chair by the closet. The straps of his leather holster were wrapped around his weapon, which he’d placed on the nightstand next to his wallet and Catholic medal—St. Michael, patron saint of police officers.

Mike had carried that silver charm since his early years, when he kept it tucked into his uniform hat. These days he kept it in his breast pocket, next to his heart.

My own heart was aching to be near him again. When I’d left to open the shop, the disappointment in his expression had been almost painful. Like me, he was sorry we’d missed a chance to make love.

Now, as I approached the bed, I could hardly wait to cuddle up to his big, warm body. Unfortunately, my feline friends had beaten me to it. The purring pair had curled up beside the man. As I slipped beneath the covers, I gently nudged Java and Frothy to the bottom of the four-poster. They mildly complained, but I wasn’t buying it.

Shoo, girls, he’s mine!

Mike had showered before sacking out, his bare skin betraying faint aromas of clean soap and citrusy aftershave. Inhaling deeply, I closed my eyes, still grateful to him for staying by my side through the night, helping me find the evidence that (I prayed) would stop the dangerous game of a monstrous young man who’d made a sport of hurting and humiliating women—and possibly even murdered one.

“How can I thank you?” I quietly asked Mike’s sleeping form.

I could still see the disappointment on his face as he’d headed up to bed. After all he’d done, he didn’t deserve to end his day that way. But what could I do?

Inspiration struck when I recalled the words he’d used to subdue that mugger in Hudson River Park . . .

With renewed purpose, my hands and lips gently roused my fiancé. His sleepy blue eyes came slowly awake, then quickly gleamed with hungry interest.

As he pulled off my nightshirt, delicious sounds rumbled from his throat. Then his mouth and hands began to roam, exploring new ways to make me melt . . .

But this was my collar!

I didn’t have handcuffs, but I did have strong hands, so I captured his wrists the old-fashioned way before moving my body over his. A thrilling gasp escaped him when he realized my intentions. Then a slow smile spread across his face as I put my lips to his ear and whispered his favorite order—

“Stay down. Stop moving.”