“What makes you think you’d survive?” Rubin asked.
His voice was so dry that Jonquille pressed her forehead to his chest and laughed so hard her stomach hurt. He threaded his fingers through hers and pressed her hand to his thigh. She could see his answering laughter in his mind, but he kept his features expressionless as he faced his brother.
“I’m made up of the same DNA as you are,” Diego said. “You survive an explosion, I’m going to, and that means you’ll make me do the paperwork. You always bow out with some excuse, even if it’s your mess. And kissing Jonquille and lighting up the swamp is definitely your mess.”
“Is that true, Rubin?” Jonquille asked, unable to resist, kissing his chin. He had the most delicious stubble there. She nibbled at it. At him. He tasted … wonderful. Like love.
“Sadly, he speaks the truth. I do make him do the tedious paperwork. And if he isn’t around, you will have to be prepared to do it, because I won’t. As for the mess of kissing you …” He bunched her hair in one hand and pulled her head back, his dark eyes moving over her face.
Her heart nearly stood still at what she saw there. Stark, raw love. For her. She knew he saw the same mirrored right back at him. Then his mouth was on hers and lightning struck, white hot and perfect.