I adore you.

He couldn’t say it; he was beyond speaking. Murphy could feel his blood pulsing through her body even as he moved in her. The combination was intoxicating. Body, blood, amnis. His mate. She had claimed him in the most elemental way. In every way.

They said nothing as the room filled with the sound of their breathing and the smell of their blood. Both their bodies dripped with water as their amnis swirled over them, building in the space between and filling the void that loss had hollowed out so many years before.

Anne gasped as her swollen flesh tightened around him, and Murphy let himself go, taking her body roughly as his control snapped. He heard a crack from the marble and pulled back just as he came, crushing her body to his chest as he buried his face in her neck. Anne’s nails dug into his neck, and she pulled his hair as she groaned again, the small aftershocks of her pleasure wringing the last from Murphy.

He held her, breathing in her scent, reveling in her possession as he walked them to the edge of the pool.

“Patrick?”

I adore you.

I love you.

You are mine.

You have always been mine.

He thought she knew it, but he couldn’t say it. Not yet.

Soon.

Murphy smiled a second before he tipped them in, laughing as she squealed.

Chapter Fifteen

“THERE WERE TWO SISTERS, a blonde and a redhead. The redhead tells her sister, ‘Guess what, I slept with a Brazilian.’ The blonde says, ‘You slag! How many is a Brazilian?’”

Murphy buried his face in the tangle of Anne’s damp hair and laughed.

“That’s very bad.”

“I have worse ones.”

“I’ll remember.”

They were stretched out on one of the lounge chairs next to the pool, both wearing nothing but skin. Anne was replete. Murphy lay at her side, one hand running up and down her back as he tried to untangle her hair with the other. He smoothed it away from her face, only to twist it around a finger or tuck it behind her ear. He was toying with her absently, his heart beating a slow rhythm in his chest.

“I think we ruined your suit,” she said, looking at the sad scraps of grey wool that were scattered over the limestone deck.

“It was a noble sacrifice.”

“It was a nice suit.”

“I have others. Feel free to ruin them all.”

She lifted her chin and propped it on his chest. “You won.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m fairly sure we both did. At least four times for you and twice on my side.”

“You really counted, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

Anne pinched his waist. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“It should be.”

“Patrick—”

“Can we not?” He lifted both hands and framed her face, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. “Allow me to explore my sensitive side as I ask you to wait on the postcoital analysis, Dr. O’Dea. I know we have things to talk about. I know not everything is resolved.”

She said, “I wasn’t going to analyze—”

“Yes, you were.” He kissed her forehead. “And Anne, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to be someone else. You’ll analyze. I’ll be contrary for the sake of disrupting your analysis.”

“All I want to—”

He put a finger over her lips, and she resisted the urge to bite it. Barely.

“For now, I’m asking you to wait. I want… No, I need you to give me this night. Give me a day of sleeping next to you. Give me a night waking up with you in my bed. Let me make love to you again. Let me do all that without thinking of every consequence.”

Anne thought for a moment and then asked, “Why?”

Murphy frowned. “I work hard to maintain that devil-may-care attitude I show the world because it’s useful. But from one night to the next, I do not make a single move without considering how it will affect my children, my city, and all those under my aegis. I deliberate every angle. I debate every eventuality. For once—with you—let me… enjoy.”

Lying on his chest, the weight of water in the air covering them like a soft blanket, she found it all too easy to give in. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

Anne nodded.

“Thank you,” he murmured, exploring her face with his lips, teasing kisses across her eyes and down her cheek. “You smell lovely when you smell of me.”

She stretched against him, pressing her curves along the hard ridges and angles of his body. It was purely a side benefit of the man he was, but Murphy had an exceptional form and she enjoyed showing her appreciation.

His body was naturally lean, but the fighting he’d done during his human years had shaped his arms and torso with an extra layer of muscle. Most vampires of his age were thinner, nothing like the sculpted humans Anne saw in modern advertisements. Murphy was the perfect balance, a man who had worked with his body in human life, but not for vanity.

And his blood…

Her lover tasted of the woods and sweet water. His blood hummed within her, his amnis mingling with her own. When she drank of him, she smelled campfires and pine.

“I missed you,” she whispered against his shoulder. “So much, Patrick.”

He paused. “I missed you too.”

Silence fell between them, and it was so laden with unspoken truths that Anne could feel them like a weight upon her body.