Page 137 of Lorenzo

I kiss her.

She meets me with the same hunger as before, but there is something different in it now. Less panic. More decision.

Her mouth opens beneath mine, and I take my time with her. I taste the wine on her tongue. Feel the tension leave her body by degrees as I hold her face between my hands.

She rises onto her toes, pressing herself against me.

I slide one arm around her waist and lift her.

She gasps into my mouth.

Her legs wrap around me without hesitation.

“Where?” I ask against her lips.

“Bedroom.”

I carry her out of the kitchen.

Mocha appears near the living room and watches us pass as I head to the stairs.

Donna looks over my shoulder at him.

“Stay,” she orders him.

He gives me a look I understand perfectly.

“I will return her safe and sound,” I say.

Donna bites my lower lip.

“Do not talk to my dog right now.”

I laugh against her mouth and keep walking.

I take the stairs quickly, and she directs me to a room at the end of the hall.

I push the door open with my shoulder and carry her inside.

The bedroom is hers in every way. Practical furniture. Dark bedding. A chair near the window with clothes folded across the back. A lamp left on beside the bed.

I lower her onto the mattress.

She sits there looking up at me, her sweater hanging loose over her bare skin and her leggings still somewhere in the kitchen.

The sight nearly ends whatever patience I have left.

She reaches for me.

I catch her hand before she can pull me down.

“What?” she asks.

“I want to look at you.”

Her expression shifts to one of wariness.

The private investigator. She is unused to being watched as she watches.