In Death 22 - Memory in Death

wasn’t often she felt The only word she could think of was “abashed.” She tugged off her coat,
    left it pooled around her. “You’d think a person could wallow a little in her own bed.”
    “It’s my bed, too, and there’s been quite enough wallowing. Want to try for something else?”
    She picked up the cat, plopped him in her lap. “No.”
    “Go ahead and sulk, then, it’s a step up from wallowing.” He rolled off the bed. “I want some wine.”
    “He could’ve been scarred for life.”
    “Please.”
    She narrowed her eyes as he opened the liquor cabinet. “He could’ve become a career criminal, all because of that one frame job.”
    “There’s a thought.” He selected a nice white out of the cooler section. “Maybe you’ve put him away. Wouldn’t that be some lovely irony?”
    Her lips twitched, but she bore down on the laugh. “You could’ve done business with him in your nefarious past. He’s probably a kingpin somewhere in Texas right now.”
    “And he owes it all to you.” He came back to the bed with two glasses of wine, gave her one. “Better?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe. I’d forgotten about it, you know, the way you do even if it’s all normal. And
    when it came back, it just rushed in with all this guilt. He was only about fourteen, fifteen. He felt sorry for me. I could see it on his face. No good deed goes unpunished,” she said, toasting before she drank.
    “I can find him if you want. You can see what he’s up to, other than being a Texan crime lord.”
    “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
    “Meanwhile, I’d like to ask you for something.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t have any pictures of you from before we met.”
    It took her mind a moment to catch up with the non sequitur. “Pictures?”
    “Yes, from when you were a nubile young girl, or a green rookie in uniform, which I’m hoping you’ll put on again one day soon. I do love my woman in uniform. I could access older ID photos, but I’d like it more if you could find something for me.”
    “I guess. Maybe. Probably. Why?”
    “Our lives didn’t start when we met.” He touched her face, just a feathering of those wonderful fingers over her skin. “Though I like to think the best of them did. I’d like to have a piece or two of you, from before.”
    “That’s pretty sappy.”
    “Guilty. And if you come across any photos of yourself at, oh, around eighteen, scantily clad, so much the better.”
    She couldn’t stop the laugh this time. “Perv.”
    “Again, guilty.”
    She took his glass, scooted over, and set both it and her own on the bedside table. She shoved the black butter of her coat carelessly onto the floor.
    “I feel like doing something else.”
    “Oh?” He cocked his head. “Such as?”
    She was quick, and she was agile. In a flashing movement, she rolled, reared up, and had her legs clamped around his waist, her hands fisted in his hair, and her mouth fused hotly to his. “Something like this,” she said when she let him breathe again.
    “I suppose I’ll have to make the time for you.”
    “Damn right.” She flipped open buttons on his shirt, leaned down to take a sharp nip at his jaw. “You scolded me. Counting my session with Whitney, that’s the second knuckle rap I’ve had today.”
    Her hands were very busy, and by the time they reached his zipper, he was hard as steel. “I hope you didn’t have the same reaction with your commander.”
    “He’s pretty studly, if you go for the big-shouldered, careworn type. Me, I like ‘em pretty.” She took another nip at his ear as she overbalanced them and shoved him to his back.
    The cat might have been fat, but he was also experienced, and dodged aside.
    “You’re so pretty. Sometimes I just want to lap you up like ice cream.” She tugged his shirt open, spread her hands on his chest. “And look at this, all that flesh, all that muscle. All mine.” She scraped her teeth down the center of his torso, felt him quiver. “Now that’s something to make girl yummy noises over.”
    His hands were on her, little thrills. But he let her lead, let her set the pace. He would let her, she knew, for the moment at least. And not knowing when he might take her over was another thrill.
    She yanked open her own shirt, put her hands over his to slide them up her body, close them over her breasts. And cruised on the sensation of those long, strong fingers against her. Then bowed back, eyes closed, as his hands skimmed down to unhook