Devoted in Death (In Death, #41)

by J.D. Robb

“He’s really, really pretty,” Peabody said, “and he’s really, really a fuckhead.” “The pretty fuckhead didn’t have anything to do with Campbell going missing—other than piss her off so she was out alone. I’d give him a couple weeks in a cage for that, if I could.” “He wouldn’t last a couple,” McNab muttered. “Exactly.” “You were staring.” He scowled at Peabody as they trooped downstairs. “When he was naked.” “Well, duh. Naked. And built. If he’d been a girl, you’d have been staring.” Eve cast her eyes to the ceiling, quickened her pace from a walk to a jog down the steps. But she could still hear them. “I bet he bought that body.” “He got a really sweet deal if he did. But I like yours, right down to your bony ass.” Eve didn’t have to see—thank God—to know Peabody gave that bony ass a squeeze to highlight her point. “Total skeeze.” Apparently McNab couldn’t give it up. “And he totally hit on you, Dallas. Roarke would squash him into skeeze juice.”

“Sometimes when you’re not here I do this. Just float like this and think how I’m in this big-ass pool in this big-ass house, and if that isn’t enough to blow up your skirt, I’ve got you working upstairs or coming home soon, or better yet . . .” She reached out, felt his fingers link with her. “Better yet, right here. It’s a really good deal for me.” “For me as well. I’ll think, Look at her, just at her, and she’s mine. My one thing I wanted long before I knew to want her.” She turned, treaded water, then slid in to twine around him. “I really love you.”