After they stepped out of the shower, they grabbed towels and dried each other off. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said.
Hunter wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the bedroom and onto the bed. He crawled on top of her, supporting himself on his elbows.
He brushed aside a wet strand of hair. “You are an amazing woman, Kerry Herlihy.”
“Ditto, Detective Markum.”
He rolled off her and stroked her face. “When you were in that grave, I thought I’d lost you.”
She’d been about to interrupt when he cast his gaze downward and his chin trembled.
“I offered all my possessions to God if you’d be alright. Did you know that?” he asked.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Hunter placed two fingers on her lips. “I never thought I’d find someone who understands me the way you do. I can be a jerk or treat you like a princess, and you still are wonderful to me.” He brushed his mouth across her lips before leaning back again. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a bad job of it, is that I love you.”
She’d waited a lifetime to hear those three words. “I love you too.”
She wanted to hold him—forever.
Without saying a word, he slid down between her legs and ran his fingers along the inside of her thighs. His tongue flicked her sensitive spot, causing her to nearly climax.
Kerry dragged her hands through his soft air then ran her fingers over his muscular shoulders. When Hunter continued his assault, she climaxed more times than she had in her entire life. She explored his face and then his broad shoulders, angry she didn’t have ten hands to touch all of him at once.
“I can’t wait any longer, Kerry.”
Hunter crawled on top of her and eased into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he let her set the pace. Her rhythm sped up and her breaths turned ragged. Someone moaned, but she couldn’t tell if the sound came from her or Hunter. Lost in her own world, the blood pounded in her ears and she let loose all her anxieties and all her anger toward those who’d wronged her. She loved Hunter with her whole being.
Clawing his back, Kerry pumped her hips until he ejaculated, just as she reached another mind-blowing climax.
“Oh my God, Hunter, that was amazing.” Kerry closed her eyes to catch her breath.
He smiled. “Well, if you get pregnant, I hope you’re ready to name our son after my father.”
“Our son?”
“Okay, if it’s a girl, you can name her after your mother.”
“What are we talking about here?”
He looked at her like she was a dimwit. “I guess I suck at proposals, but if in a few months, you’re still able to stand me, I figure a nice little wedding ceremony in oh, Hawaii, would be nice.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “You want to marry me?”
He laughed and hugged her. “Absolutely. I don’t want to spend another day without you. Been there, done that, and I didn’t like it one bit.”
Hunter’s phone trilled. “Damn it.” He didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to answer it? It could be important.”
He sucked her hard nipple. “If you insist.” Hunter rolled over and picked up his cell off the nightstand. “Markum.”
He turned his back to her and spoke in hushed tones. She wasn’t sure she liked being out of the loop. After all, they were partners. Hunter dropped the phone on the nightstand and rolled over.
“You won’t believe who that was.” He stopped for a moment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I sound like Phil. Let me rephrase that. Besides being able to spend the next gazillion years of your life with me, what would make you very happy?”
She took a moment to think. “Finding the identity of our last Jane Doe.”
“Well, your wish is granted. That was most likely #3’s mother. She’s positive the model is that of her daughter.”
Kerry threw her arms around Hunter and hugged him again. “That’s the best news I could have gotten.”
“I thought the best news would be if you got pregnant.”
“That too.”
He ran a calloused palm over her sensitive nipple. “Then I say we spend the next few years trying to achieve that goal.”
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I hoped you enjoyed Kerry and Hunter’s story. Next up is Buried Secrets. Here is the first chapter.
The smart moon had blanketed itself between two big, fluffy clouds, probably to keep warm. Jenna Holliday tugged close her police issue jacket wishing she could do the same. “Damn.” Florida wasn’t supposed to be this cold in December.
From outside the closed cemetery’s gate, she peered in at the faintly lit mausoleum that housed her mom’s remains. “Hey, Mom. I just finished the late shift, which was why I didn’t make it in time for your birthday. I’m sorry.” Jenna leaned her forehead against the wrought iron bars, gripping them tight. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to talk to you. No, I needed to talk to you. I missed passing the exam to make detective by five freaking points. Can you believe that?” She huffed out a breath. “Dad will be ballistic when he finds out. Not that I care.” She slapped her palm against the cold metal, the guilt of what she’d done so many years ago welling inside.
Let it go. You were only twelve. You had to tell Mom you saw Dad with another woman.
Keeping her gaze focused on her mother’s crypt a few hundred feet up the path, she stepped back from the fence and waved goodbye. She coughed into the sleeve of her jacket as she glanced around, hoping no one caught her talking to the dead. All clear. The lot was empty.
A loud crash came from the other side of the mausoleum that sounded like rocks breaking. Jenna spun back to the cemetery. A flashlight traced an arc across the lawn. What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
Not thinking about her safety, she hopped onto the hood of her car and scaled the six-foot high cemetery gate, landing onto the paved walkway. Ouch. Her sore knee screamed.
Move. Halfway up the concrete path, more rocks exploded. Was that granite breaking? Ohmigod. They better not be touching Mom’s grave—or anyone’s grave for that matter. Her fingers shot to the gun on her hip.
Someone cursed. From his high-pitched voice, it sounded like a kid. She darted down the middle aisle of the mausoleum, trying to make as little sound as possible despite her breaths coming out hard and fast. She plastered her back against the far wall before making her move. The biting wind whooped and howled down the corridor.
“Let’s get out of here. We already got five heads.” The kid sounded scared.
“No, dumb ass. We don’t get paid until we have seven.”
They were stealing skulls? Not with her around they wouldn’t. She checked around the corner. Two teens, one blond and scrawny, the other beefy and dark, hovered over a coffin that was halfway out of the bottom vault with the lid partly off. The granite faceplate lay in pieces on the ground. Dear God. Half the coffins in the bottom row were out and exposed. The smaller kid had what looked like a king-sized pillowcase slung over his shoulder. She could take both of them if she had to.
Jenna stepped into the open, her finger on her holstered gun. “Police. Put the sack down and get on your knees—both of you. Hands behind your head.” She counted the coffins. Her mother’s grave was sixth from the end. Dear God. They’d broken into Mom’s vault. Her stomach tumbled, but she kept her hand steady.
Before they did as she’d asked, something hard came down on the back of her head. Her knees buckled, sending her to the concrete. Her cheek planted on the ground, and a tsunami-sized ache raced down her body. When she tried to pop to her feet, her attacker delivered a sharp kick to her hip.
“Bitch.” The voice was deep, ugly, mature, and quite unforgettable.