In Death 26 - Strangers in Death

right. Say I want to change frequencies. I decide I want you to suck your thumb and call me Mommy while I paddle your cute ass.” She shifted her gaze to his profile. “What do you say?”
    “I would probably suggest a reasonable compromise, such as I’d like to suck on something else, preferably something attached to you, and I’ll call you whatever you like. If spanking must be involved, we’ll just have to take turns there.”
    “See.” She poked his shoulder. “That works for me.”
    “I sincerely hope not, but we can see.”
    “No.” She snorted out a laugh. “I mean it works for me that you’d say let’s modify a little if I came up with something weird.”
    “Remember that the next time I want to tie you up with your own underwear and slather your naked body with raspberry sauce.”
    She slid her eyes toward him again. “Was there a first time?”
    “Could be.”
    The man, she mused, continued to surprise her. “Back to the point. I can’t see a marriage staying solid if one or both partners enters into an intimate relationship elsewhere. And profession aside, the LC–client relationship is intimate.” She considered, mulled, as Roarke drove through the gates. “Maybe, for instance, you’re married to this guy, everything’s frosty, then he turns out to be gay as an Easter basket. You got a problem. Maybe you stick it out because of those reasons you named—money, habit, whatever. And maybe you go to a professional to get off. But is that a marriage or just an arrangement?”
    “Is there love? Your view on this is narrow. That’s how you’re built.”
    It didn’t feel narrow to her. It felt right. “Marriage is a promise. That’s one of the ways you talked me into it. If you break one part of the promise, it’s going to crack other parts.”
    “Even if both parties agree?”
    “I don’t know.” She got out of the car. “But I’m interested to hear how Ava Anders explains it.”
     
    I nside, they started upstairs together. “It seems to me,” Roarke said, “that if she’d wanted to hide the payments to Charles, she’d have paid in cash. And speaking of Charles, did he seem distracted tonight? Even before he understood why we were there?”
    “Yeah, something. Maybe some trouble in paradise, even though he said everything was fine.”
    “That would be a pity. They work together very well.”
    When she started to turn toward her office, he took her hand, tugged her in the opposite direction. “What? I’ve got work.”
    “We both always have work. Now, it’s nearly midnight, and you’ve had a very long day.”
    “I just want to—”
    “So do I. I’m thinking of ordering up some raspberry sauce.”
    “Funny guy. You’re a funny guy. Look, I just want another hour to—”
    “I have other plans for your next hour.” Shifting position, he began to back her into the bedroom. “Here’s that compromise. That…modification.” He depressed the release on the weapon harness she’d strapped back on to go out.
    “Maybe I’m not in the mood.”
    “Then…” He trailed a finger down her throat, flipped open the first button of her shirt. “I suppose you’re going to be bored. Fire on.” He opened the next button as the flames flashed in the hearth. “Lights off.”
    He continued to back her toward the platform, and the lake-sized bed it held, watching her eyes when her harness and then her shirt fell to the floor. “Step up,” he warned when they reached the platform. “And again.” Then he gave her a light shove so she fell back on the bed.
    “I guess I’ll just lie here and take it.”
    “You do that.” He lifted her leg, pulled off her boot.
    “Don’t take it personally if I nod off.”
    “Of course not.” He tossed the second boot aside. He ran his hands up her legs, smiling at her quiver when they stroked over her center on the way to the hook of her trousers. He drew them down her legs, let them drop.
    Eve faked a yawn, tapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”
    He cocked a brow. There wasn’t another woman in the world, he thought, who could amuse, challenge, and arouse him as she did. He pulled off his sweater, tossed it aside, then sat on the side of the bed to remove his own boots. Behind him, she made exaggerating snorting sounds until he pinched her.
    “Oh, sorry. Was I snoring?”
    He stood, unhooked his trousers, stepped out of them. “Go back to sleep,” he said as he slid onto the bed, slid onto her. “This won’t take