Trust Fall

subtle, warm glow.
Devlin yawned again, disrobed, and tossed the fluffy garment over the back of a chair. After taking off her leather jacket, revealing a white low-cut blouse and deep cleavage, she draped the coat over the robe.
“Whoa. You weren’t wearing that when you left this morning.”
Still in her miniskirt, fishnet stockings, and knee boots, she glimpsed her attire and eyed the man, her husband, lying in her bed, bedcovers up to his waist. “Yeah,” she drew out the word. “I was,” unbuttoning the shirt, she drew closer and sunk one knee into the mattress, “on a stakeout...pretending to be a,” she wavered, “lady of the night shall we say.” She undid the last button and the shirt opened a bit, showing a black push-up bra. “I...” she tipped her head toward the robe she had used for concealment, “didn’t want Cassie to see me in this outfit.”
On his back, bare chested, “Well I,” the man curled hands around her lower back and pulled, “certainly don’t mind seeing you in it.”
Sniggering, Devlin planted hands on his pectoral muscles to stop her fall. “Did I wake you?”
He flexed his biceps.
Relaxing her arms, letting him reel her in, she admired the twenty-seven-year-old in the faint light—black hair, dark eyes, long eyelashes, and a square jaw. His rugged good looks had caught her attention the first time she laid eyes on him. She kissed him long and slow. The prickly stubble on his cheeks and chin tickled her face.
Seconds later, their lips parted.
He smiled. “Feel free to wake me up anytime.”
Smiling, she went to her left side and nestled against his warm body.
He wrapped his right arm around her shoulders.
She lifted her top leg and carefully rested a bent knee on his stomach. “How was your day?”
He took hold of the leg she offered, his pinky and ring finger touching the shaft of her boot. “Good.” His thumb played with her fishnets. “It was good.”
“And Cassie?”
He chuckled. “We had fun.”
Hearing the joy in his voice, she looked up at him. “What did the two of you do?”
“We made cookies. And we ate cookies. Lots...and lots of cookies. In fact,” he patted the side of her knee, “your leg is resting on a good dozen of them.”
She laughed. “So what you’re saying is you fed my daughter junk food all day?”
He nodded. “Yup...and we had a blast.” He hugged her tighter. “She’s a great kid.” A moment passed. “So tell me about your day? Take down any bad guys?”
Devlin propped herself onto her left elbow and gazed at her mate.
He scrunched his eyebrows at the tenderness on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She shifted her focus to his chest. Her fingers toyed with the hair that obscured the muscular physique beneath. “I’m lucky to have you, Curt.”
Wedging a hand between his hair and his pillow, former FBI Special Agent Curtis Ashford cocked his head to get a better view of her. He let a skimpy half grin come and go. “Where’s this coming from?”
“After Jonathon died,” she ran fingernails across his torso, “I guess a part of me thought I’d never find someone again...especially someone who’s so good with Cassie.” She faced him. “She loves you a lot.”
“And I love her.”
For the next several seconds, the six-month newlyweds regarded each other without saying anything, their physical expressions conveying more sentiment than any words could have carried.
Ashford rubbed the back of her arm.
Devlin walked two fingers up his sternum. Still resting on her elbow, she rocked forward, lightly pinched his chin between her thumb and forefinger, and pecked his lips. Pulling away an inch, she scanned his face for a few moments before going in for a second smooch, a romantic lip-lock.
He pulled her body closer, and the two exchanged a deep, long, passionate French kiss. A heartbeat later, he threw back the covers and rolled her. On top of his wife, kissing her, his right hand sandwiched between the mattress and her back, Ashford slid his free hand to her hip and gently squeezed.
Devlin flinched, “Ouch,” and set her jaw, nearly biting his lower lip.
He did a one-armed push-up, and their torsos parted. “I’m sorry. What did I do?”
“No—no. You didn’t do anything.” She held his face in her hands. “It’s just a sore spot...from earlier tonight.”
Ashford frowned.
Devlin ran a thumb over his mouth. “You asked me about my day. Well, I jum—” seeing herself jumping off a building, she bit her lower lip and regarded her protective husband. “I...” she flashed a smile and straightened his hair, “took a little tumble...and got banged up a bit.”
Placing a foot on the floor, “What happened?” his upper body going vertical, he gave her figure the once-over and gaped at her. “Did you get hurt?”
“It’s okay.” After stealing a glance at his swelling boxer briefs, she pulled him to horizontal again and kissed him. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”
He craned his neck. “Are you sure?”
She forced him back toward her, “I’m positive,” and nibbled his earlobe.
“Maybe,” Ashford lifted his head, “maybe we should forgo having—”
Squeezing his ribcage between her knees, Devlin trundled him onto his back and hovered above him, her boots straddling his legs. Her hair fluttered from side to side once and settled. “Trust me, Curt. I’m all right.” She sat on his thighs. “So how about you just,” she removed her shirt, “let me...” slid bra straps over her shoulders and unhooked the front-closure lingerie, “take the lead tonight?” The apparel opened.
His gaze shifted downward.
She felt him stir beneath her while she slipped out of the undergarment.
His eyes met hers. “I do like it when you,” a slow grin poured over his face, “take the lead.”
Curling up one side of her mouth, Devlin tossed the bra and gripped his shoulders. “I know you do.”
Ashford massaged her lower back.
Her breasts brushed over his chest, as she leaned forward and planted palms on his pillow, each hand next to an ear. The tip of her nose wandered near his lips