Page 123 of Bulletproof

“God, I love your ass,” he said, kneading it before he bit the other cheek, harder, and I shuddered. “Maybe I need to show you, huh?” he asked, yanking me up at the same time the hammock tilted, twisted, and finally turned, flipping me out of it and Sam over it as he fought to grab me.

We wound up tangled up together underneath it, Sam’s arm caught in it, along with my ankle. I was laughing so hard that my ribs hurt.

“Shit, that wasn’t sexy at all,” Sam groused, tugging at his wrist.

Tears rolled down my face.

“You’re really annoying—you know that?”

I nodded because, yeah, I knew.

I wanted to take him everywhere I had already seen and then go all over the island with him. My plans were huge, but after I took a shower and changed, I found him asleep on the righted hammock. I stretched out close on the chaise and just stared at the water.

“I let you lie for me.”

Turning my head, I found Sam’s heavy-lidded eyes. “What?”

“I did come see you, and I did put the entire investigation in jeopardy because of what I wanted and needed. I didn’t give a damn about anybody else, and then I let you dig me out of it.”

“That’s what married people do. They take care of each other.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“And what should I have done, Sam? Let you get caught? Let your reputation and your career go down the toilet because of something I was one hundred percent a part of?”

“Jory—”

“It’s like when the bad guy asks the cop who’s undercover, Are you a cop? The cop never says, Yeah, I’m a cop. He lies.”

He smiled at me, and the way his lips curled, the way he was looking at me—so full of adoration—sent that flutter of anticipation through me.

“If I had let Cristo Liron win, if I had said it was you, if I had done any of that, who would that have served, Sam?”

“I just never wanted you involved at all.”

“No, of course not. Why would you?”

“I just wanted you to be safe.”

“I know that.” I squinted at him.

“You have a question. I can tell,” he sighed, smiling at the same time.

“Why isn’t it entrapment when a guy asks if they’re a cop and the cop says no?” I asked, having thought about my example and realizing it had not really been a good one.

“It wouldn’t be much of an undercover operation if everyone knew who everybody was, now would it?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry though for that whole scene, J, and I’m sorry you had to have confession time—completely fabricated, I might add—in front of everybody.”

“When people miss the people they love, I’m sure they all get busy with their toys and stuff, Sam. I just stretched the truth a little bit.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that I did my missing of you at home alone and not in a big, noisy club,” I told him.

“So, you had to take care of yourself while I was gone.”