Page 79 of Our Daughter's Bones

He chuckled, “I agree with my wife. The slave that I am.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

The kiss lingered. His fingers unbuttoned her blouse. Moments moved quickly. One kiss bled into another. The next thing she knew, her clothes had been peeled off, and she was spread-eagled on the counter. She turned off her brain and surrendered to her desire. She knew she would hate herself later. But old habits were easy to fall into. Making love to your husband was one of them. But as they moved against each other, she knew that their kisses were not steeped in promise or love. They were steeped in denial.

When they were finished, Mackenzie lay, spent, catching her breath.

“Haven’t done it in here in a while.”

She forced herself not to think about what just happened and why. “What was the interesting news you had?”

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot about that. I heard from Ron that Lieutenant Peck is retiring.”

“What? Seriously?”

He placed a long finger over his lips. “It’s very premature, Mack. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Who would I tell?”

“I don’t know. Nick, maybe?” he said, guarded.

“Yeah. No, I won’t.”

“I thought Murphy would retire first.”

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“You do?” he asked, amused. “Baby, you rant about Murphy all the time.”

“Sure, I do. He doesn’t want to retire because he doesn’t have a life outside of work. It’s sad.”

“Really?Youare saying that?”

She buttoned her blouse, deftly. “Yeah, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“No, tell me. What?”

He put aside the spoon and shrugged. “Kind of like you?”

“I have no life outside of work?” she repeated, feeling her stomach burn like gasoline.

“What do you do besides work?”

She fluctuated between the urge to scream and to whack him. It was irrational, but her fuse fizzed. There were sharp words she wanted to throw at him, which would blow their relationship to smithereens in an instant. “What doyoudo besides work?”

Samantha Walker. She wanted him to say the name.

“Okay, you’re overreacting. I didn’t mean––”

“You said those exact words, Sterling. Why would you say something without meaning them?”

“Mack, please. Let’s not fight. I just meant you are obviously the workaholic between us. But you know that about yourself.”

“Workaholic? We work the same amount!” Her face was mottled crimson. “Do you remember the Dane case two years ago? We didn’t talk for weeks. I never complained––”

“I’m not complaining! I was just stating a fact. You’re more obsessed with your work than I am. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Sounded a lot like an accusation, Sterling. Considering I called Murphy sad for being like that.”