"Strawberries and passionfruit and a hint of something spicy. I can never place what it is. Every time I think I know what it is, it eludes me."
"Cloves," she murmurs.
"Cloves?"
"It’s in my shampoo. A special concoction that nourishes my hair. It’s so thick, I need something more tailor-made to tame the bulk."
"I love your hair." I bury my fingers in it and tug.
She shivers.
I drag my fingers through her scalp, and she moans.
I follow the curve of her skull to the base where it meets her neck and scratch gently.
"Oh, god." A quiver grips her. "That spot… How did you find it?"
"I know everything about you, baby."
"I hope not. A relationship without any secrets would be so boring."
I still. "As long as it’s not the kind of secret that involves life and death."
Her forehead furrows, then she crawls onto my chest. I hook an arm around her waist and hold her close. "I don’t envy Michael right now. If it had been you in her place—" I shake my head. "I’m not sure how I would have dealt with it."
"She wanted his child. I understand why she did it."
"She should have told him. He deserved to know how much danger she was putting herself in."
She cups my cheek. "She wanted to be a mother. It’s something only a woman would understand."
I turn my head and kiss her palm. "If something were to happen to you, I’m not sure I’d be able to bear it."
"Nothing’s going to happen to me," she murmurs.
Something in her voice makes me glance toward her. "What?" I growl.
"What?" she says in an innocent voice.
"Oh no you don’t. I know when you’re overanalyzing something. Out with it, girl."
"So, it’s girl when you’re trying to steamroll me into toeing the line, hmm?" She traces a line down my jaw.
"Do you think I can steamroll you into anything? Also, I’m not going to let you distract me." I twine my fingers through hers, then place a kiss on each of them. "Now tell me, what’s on your mind."
She hesitates.
"You can ask me anything, you know." I search her features. "You do know that, right?"
“I was wondering about the turtle in your bedroom.”
“Solomon.”
“Eh?”
“His name is Solomon. I rescued him when I was fifteen. And he’s been my only constant companion—” I bend and kiss her lips “—until now.”
I pull back, and she chases my lips with her own. Another long, drugging kiss later, I search her eyes. “Now tell me what your real question is.”