“Come in.” She stepped aside.
We entered a foyer area with a set of steps to the right and bamboo wardrobe to the left. Ahead of us, hanging on the wall, was a large circular mirror, ringed by glass dolphins.
The housekeeper held up a finger. “Wait here.” She disappeared up the steps.
I still felt cold. I burrowed under my sweater.
Flint opened the wardrobe. There were several windbreakers hanging inside.
A fishing pole rested against one side. Next to the fishing pole were a pair of black galoshes. They looked too clean to have ever been worn.
I shivered. This place didn’t look like Alastair at all. It was too warm and beachy. Alastair liked things cool and clean and sleek, with sharp angles.
Maybe he’d had the place decorated by someone else? Paid a decorator to do it?
I couldn’t picture him relinquishing control in that way.
Footsteps.
Coming down the steps.
Suddenly, I wasn’t cold. I was hot. I was sweating and the sweater was cutting off my circulation. I had to get it off. Now.
I struggled with it, yanking it off of my sleeves, pulling it away from my body.
And when I looked up, there he was.
He saw me and he froze on the stairs there. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a linen shirt. His feet were bare. He looked the way he always had. Too beautiful for words.
My heart stopped.
My mouth got dry.
My nipples pebbled against my bra and heat started to gather between my thighs.
He was tall with wide shoulders and a little bit of dark hair scattered over his upper chest. It peeked out where his shirt was unbuttoned. He had some dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. It made him look tousled and male and gorgeous. His eyes were green and open and twinkling.
I thought about the way he kissed.
I thought about the way he fucked.
I thought about riding him, his hands on my breasts, his thick cock spearing me as I bucked against him and cried out and came and came and came and—
“Mr. Cooper, my name is Detective Lachlan Flint. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Penny?” Alastair’s voice was hoarse.
“Mr. Cooper,” said Flint.
Alastair started toward me.
I held up both hands to ward him off. “Don’t,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. There was the sex, sure, but there were other memories too. Him standing over me, my blood smearing his fists, sneering, Don’t get up. If you get up, it means you want more. Do you want more, Penny?
I shuddered.
Flint stepped between us. “She wanted to come along. Sorry if it’s a shock.”
“I thought you were dead.” Alastair had yet to even acknowledge Flint.
“You knew I wasn’t dead,” I said. “I served you with divorce papers.”
“Mr. Cooper,” said Flint.
Alastair finally looked at him. “Who are you?”
“I understand you saw Sophia Ward on February twelfth?” said Flint.
Alastair just shook his head. He turned back to me. “Penny, let’s talk. All I want is to talk. Just you and me. Please, I know that I screwed up, but I’ve changed. You can’t imagine how horrible it’s been without you. I miss you so much, baby.” He reached his hand out, around Flint.
Flint chuckled. “See, that’s not going to happen.”
My body wanted him. My body was aching for his touch, for the feel of his mouth on me. I wanted to press myself against him, breathe in his scent, rip open his shirt and kiss my way down his stomach.
But that was all it was.
Whatever else that had been there, the love for him, the desire to do what he asked or to make him happy? All of that was gone.
“I need you to stop trying to get closer to Ms. Caspian,” said Flint.
“Her name is Cooper. She’s my wife .” Alastair looked at Flint, and I could see that he was starting to get angry.
“Sophia Ward,” said Flint. “You saw her that night?”
Alastair’s nostrils flared. He narrowed his eyes and focused in on Flint. “You want to to step out of the way,” he said softly, but there was an echo to his voice that
We entered a foyer area with a set of steps to the right and bamboo wardrobe to the left. Ahead of us, hanging on the wall, was a large circular mirror, ringed by glass dolphins.
The housekeeper held up a finger. “Wait here.” She disappeared up the steps.
I still felt cold. I burrowed under my sweater.
Flint opened the wardrobe. There were several windbreakers hanging inside.
A fishing pole rested against one side. Next to the fishing pole were a pair of black galoshes. They looked too clean to have ever been worn.
I shivered. This place didn’t look like Alastair at all. It was too warm and beachy. Alastair liked things cool and clean and sleek, with sharp angles.
Maybe he’d had the place decorated by someone else? Paid a decorator to do it?
I couldn’t picture him relinquishing control in that way.
Footsteps.
Coming down the steps.
Suddenly, I wasn’t cold. I was hot. I was sweating and the sweater was cutting off my circulation. I had to get it off. Now.
I struggled with it, yanking it off of my sleeves, pulling it away from my body.
And when I looked up, there he was.
He saw me and he froze on the stairs there. He was wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a linen shirt. His feet were bare. He looked the way he always had. Too beautiful for words.
My heart stopped.
My mouth got dry.
My nipples pebbled against my bra and heat started to gather between my thighs.
He was tall with wide shoulders and a little bit of dark hair scattered over his upper chest. It peeked out where his shirt was unbuttoned. He had some dark stubble on his chin and cheeks. It made him look tousled and male and gorgeous. His eyes were green and open and twinkling.
I thought about the way he kissed.
I thought about the way he fucked.
I thought about riding him, his hands on my breasts, his thick cock spearing me as I bucked against him and cried out and came and came and came and—
“Mr. Cooper, my name is Detective Lachlan Flint. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Penny?” Alastair’s voice was hoarse.
“Mr. Cooper,” said Flint.
Alastair started toward me.
I held up both hands to ward him off. “Don’t,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. There was the sex, sure, but there were other memories too. Him standing over me, my blood smearing his fists, sneering, Don’t get up. If you get up, it means you want more. Do you want more, Penny?
I shuddered.
Flint stepped between us. “She wanted to come along. Sorry if it’s a shock.”
“I thought you were dead.” Alastair had yet to even acknowledge Flint.
“You knew I wasn’t dead,” I said. “I served you with divorce papers.”
“Mr. Cooper,” said Flint.
Alastair finally looked at him. “Who are you?”
“I understand you saw Sophia Ward on February twelfth?” said Flint.
Alastair just shook his head. He turned back to me. “Penny, let’s talk. All I want is to talk. Just you and me. Please, I know that I screwed up, but I’ve changed. You can’t imagine how horrible it’s been without you. I miss you so much, baby.” He reached his hand out, around Flint.
Flint chuckled. “See, that’s not going to happen.”
My body wanted him. My body was aching for his touch, for the feel of his mouth on me. I wanted to press myself against him, breathe in his scent, rip open his shirt and kiss my way down his stomach.
But that was all it was.
Whatever else that had been there, the love for him, the desire to do what he asked or to make him happy? All of that was gone.
“I need you to stop trying to get closer to Ms. Caspian,” said Flint.
“Her name is Cooper. She’s my wife .” Alastair looked at Flint, and I could see that he was starting to get angry.
“Sophia Ward,” said Flint. “You saw her that night?”
Alastair’s nostrils flared. He narrowed his eyes and focused in on Flint. “You want to to step out of the way,” he said softly, but there was an echo to his voice that
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