“Yeah. It’s getting pretty close to being true right now.”
“Then before we sleep, you could show me one of the more stuff.”
“I could do that.” As he angled down to kiss her, he slid his hand down her body, between her legs.
“Oh! I like this stuff!”
He laughed, even as he made her come again.
In the morning, Sawyer headed outside for calisthenics feeling like a man who could run twenty miles—all uphill—without getting winded, then polish that off by e
ating the equivalent of a team of horses.
He found Doyle leaning against the outdoor table, drinking coffee while the sky went pale and pink.
“The others should be right along,” Sawyer said.
“Mmm-hmm. You got lucky. It’s all over you, brother,” Doyle added. “And if it wasn’t, I’m next door. Your mermaid’s enthusiastically vocal.”
“Oh.” Sawyer studied his water bottle, then looked over at Doyle. “Sorry?”
“No, you’re not, and can’t blame you. But you owe me.”
“How you figure?”
“She used me to get you worked up—classic strategy. She’d owe me, too, but she taught me a couple of solid moves, so she and I are even.”
Sawyer thought of the damn handsprings, and the jealousy crawling over his skin. “Didn’t see it coming.”
“They never do. So, payback? Take it up to her room, then I don’t have to think about how I’m not getting laid.”
“Done. I was pissed at you.”
“Yeah.” With one of his rare smiles, Doyle lifted his coffee. “Can’t blame you there either. You’re a lucky man, Sawyer. She’s like no other.”
“I know it. It’s why I pulled a muscle in my willpower not to go there with her.”
“Brother, when beauty falls into your hand, you hold on to it while you can. You could be dead tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s . . . inspiring.”
When the others came out, Annika walked straight to Sawyer, moved in for a kiss—the sort that made him wonder just how soon they could take it up to her room.
“Are you passing those out?” Doyle asked her.
On a quick laugh, she turned to him, laid her hands on his shoulders, kissed him lightly, sweetly on the lips. “This is how you kiss family. Sawyer is family, too, but it’s different. We have sex.”
“I heard.”
“I had stars in my head. It’s very good sex that makes stars. And I learned about the more stuff. Did you know in the foreplay—such a good word—a man can—”
“Okay.” Hastily, Sawyer grabbed her hand. “We should get started.”
After nearly an hour of squats, shuffles, push-ups, pull-ups, and whatever other torture Doyle could devise, Sawyer made a mountain of pancakes. His call as breakfast chef, and he was in the mood.
Halfway through the meal, and the discussion on how and when they’d case Malmon’s rented villa, Riley’s phone signaled. She took one glance at the readout, rose, and moved off, speaking rapidly in Italian.
When she came back, she picked up her plate, shoveled food in while she stood. “Okay, I scored us three SPP-1Ms, with twenty-four cartridges. Best I could do for now, and the third’s a bonus. We’ll need to hit the kitty,” she told Bran.