"Then get rid of it." He stopped her by putting a hand to hers, lifting the flower. "What's this?"
"I think it's a very sick, mutant rose. I bought it for you."
It was so rare to see Roarke taken by surprise, she nearly laughed. His gaze met hers and she thought—hoped—it might have been baffled pleasure she saw there before he looked down at the rose again. "You brought me a flower."
"I think it's sort of traditional. Fight, flowers, make up."
"Darling Eve." He took the stem. The edges of the bud were blackened and curled from the cold. The color was somewhere between the yellow of a healing bruise and urine. "You fascinate me."
"Pretty pitiful, huh?"
"No." This time his hand cupped her cheek, skimmed into her hair. "It's delightful."
"If it smells anything like the guy who sold it to me, you might want to have it fumigated."
"Don't spoil it," he said mildly, and touched his lips to hers.
"I do that—spoil things." She backed away again before she gave in and grabbed on. "I don't do it on purpose. And I meant what I said this morning, even if it pisses you off. Mostly, I think cops are better off going solo. I don't know, like priests or something, so they don't keep dragging the sin and sorrow home with them."
"I have sin and sorrow of my own," he said evenly. "It's washed over you a time or two."
"I knew it would piss you off."
"It does. And by God, Eve, it hurts me."
Her mouth dropped open, trembled closed again. "I don't mean to do that." Hadn't known she could do that. Part of the problem, she realized. Her problem. "I don't have the words like you do. I don't have them, Roarke, the kind you say to me—or even think, and I see you thinking them and it—my heart just stops."
"Do you think loving you to excess is easy for me?"
"No. I don't. I think it should be impossible. Don't get mad." She hurried on when she saw that dangerous flash in his eyes. "Don't get mad yet. Let me finish."
"Then make it good." He set the flower aside. "Because I'm damn sick and I'm tired of having to justify my feelings to the woman who owns them."
"I can't keep my balance." Oh, she hated to admit it, to say it out loud to the man who wobbled it so often and so easily. "I get it, and I cruise along for a while, realizing this is who I am now, who we are now. And then, sometimes, I just look at you and stumble. And I can't get my breath because all these feelings just rear up and grab me by the throat. I don't know what to do about it, how to handle it. I think, I'm married to him. I've been married to him for almost six months, and there are times he walks into the room and stops my heart."
She let out a shuddering breath. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. In my life, you're what matters most. I love you so much it scares me, and I guess if I had a choice about it, I wouldn't change it. So…now you can get pissed off, because I'm done."
"A fat lot of room you've given me for that." He watched her lips twitch into a smile as he went to her. His hands slipped over her shoulders, down her back. "I've no choice either, Eve. I wouldn't want one."
"We're not going to fight."
"I don't think so."
She kept her eyes on his as she tugged at the belt of his robe. "I stored up this energy in case I needed it to fight with you."
He lowered his head, bit her bottom lip. "It's a shame to waste it."
"I'm not going to." Slowly, she backed him toward the bed, up the short steps to the platform. "I drove through the city tonight. I felt alive." She tugged the robe away, closed her teeth over his shoulder. "I'm going to show you."
She tumbled to the bed on top of him, and her mouth was like a fever. The frantic burst of energy reminded her of the first time they'd come together on this bed, the night she'd thrown all caution and restraint aside and let him take her where they'd needed to go.
Now she would drive him, with fast, rough hands, hot greedy lips. She took exactly what she wanted, and what she took was everything.
The light was gray and weak, trickling through the sky window overhead, filtering down on her. His vision blurred, but he watched her as she destroyed him. Slim, agile, fierce, the bruises from the hideous night blooming on her skin like the medals of a warrior.
Her eyes gleamed as she worked them both toward frenzy.
Then, and then again, skin glowing, breath ragged, she lowered over him, sheathed him, surrounded him.